Page 53 of Deeper Than the Dead

Besides, Vera had someone working on the text messages. Bent couldn’t do any more than what she had already set in motion.

“Someone left an ugly message on the front door,” she said, rather than hello. “Luna’s very upset.” She turned to her sisters, who huddled near the door, staring at the assault on their home as well as their senses. “Eve’s taking it fairly well, but it takes a lot to faze her.”

“Yeah,” Bent agreed, “she’s pretty unflappable.” He studied Vera as they made their way up the porch steps. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” She saw far worse than this all the time in Memphis.

“I’m sure you’ve seen way worse,” he said, reading her mind, “but this is personal.”

Maybe he was right. She should be more affected. But it was difficult, knowing what she knew. “I’m trying to keep my reactions in neutral territory until we know more. And for them.” She nodded to her sisters. “As well as the vultures on the road.”

Vera didn’t dislike reporters in general. Just this one. Many reporters were helpful during investigations. Not Patricia Patton.

“That’s smart—if you can manage it,” Bent commented.

She scoffed. “Believe me, I’m an expert.”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted having said them. Statements like that could come back to haunt a person. Thankfully this investigation had not pointed to Vera and Eve just yet, but it very well could eventually.

It was all these extra little surprises—like three additional sets of remains—creating havoc deep inside Vera.

Her instinct was to start questioning people who had known and been friends of the family during that time period. Find out if anyone worked on the farm for her father. Cut hay or trimmed trees. There was a time when they had horses and a few head of cattle. It was possible someone had helped with the animals. Vera had no memory of a handyman or a helper of any sort.

As she and Bent neared, Luna and Eve stepped apart, clearing the path for him to see the message left on their front door.

“Afternoon, ladies,” he said, his gaze fixed on the words spelled out in red paint across the yellow front door.

The house was white, and the door had once been a pale green—their mother had loved green. Sheree, wanting to put her stamp on at least a few things, insisted it be painted her favorite color—yellow. After Sheree was gone, Vera and Eve painted it green again. Looking back, it seemed a bit childish, but it had made them feel better. Later, when Luna was twelve, she noticed a photo of her mother standing on the front porch and saw that the door was yellow. Their father had told her how Sheree loved the color. Luna begged him to repaint it that bright daffodil.

Vera had been immensely grateful she was long gone by then. Eve had been furious about the change.

Since neither of them would hurt Luna by commenting negatively, the door remained yellow evermore. Besides, after Sheree disappeared, Luna had become Daddy’s little girl, while Vera and Eve had become irrelevant. She supposed it was understandable to some degree, since Luna had been a baby. Within a year Vera was off to college and Eve was in trouble all the time. Luna was by far the easiest to love, and it didn’t hurt that she had adored their father. Vera and Eve hadn’t done that in a very long time. Not since he brought home a woman to take their dead mother’s place.

“Do we have a time frame when someone may have done this?”

“It had to be between eleven thirtyish,” Vera said, “and whatever time Luna arrived, because I was here until then.”

“I got home about ten after twelve,” Luna said. “I come home for lunch a couple of times each week.”

“We can assume then that it was someone who knows your routine,” Bent suggested. “Otherwise, they were taking a big risk on being caught.”

Vera agreed with this to a point. “Whoever vandalized the door had to be watching the house, because my being here is not part of the routine.”

Bent nodded. His gaze meeting hers. “Good point.” He shifted his attention to Eve and Luna. “I’ll have someone drop by and check for prints in case the perp touched the doorknob or some part of the door. I’m doubtful we’ll find anything, but we’ll try.”

Luna shook her head. “Can we just cover it up?” She glanced farther down the road, beyond the trees that provided some amount of cover for them. “I don’t want more of those reporters rushing over here.”

“We can,” Bent said. “If that’s what you prefer.”

“Luna’s right,” Vera agreed. “Since it’s unlikely you’ll find anything useful, the harm those reporters could do represents the bigger threat.”

“All right then.” Bent looked from one to the other. “Any yellow paint around here?”

“I’ll get it,” Luna offered. “But if it’s all right, I’ll go back to the library and have lunch there. I can’t be here right now.”

“I should get back to work too,” Eve said. She turned to Vera then. “If that’s okay.”

Vera waved her hand in dismissal. “Sure. I can handle this.”

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