Page 76 of Deeper Than the Dead

“We’re thinking,” Vera pressed on, “this friend may have taken advantage of the situation and continued to use the cave for his own personal dumping ground.”

“For his victims, you mean.”

“Sorry, yes.” Vera forged on. “We can’t, of course, be certain if my father knew what the friend was doing—assuming the theory pans out. Obviously, he can’t tell us now, considering his dementia.” Vera looked to the former schoolteacher. “Long story short, I need your help putting together a list of people who were close to my father.”

Beatrice stared at her for a long moment.

Vera felt the urge to shrink into herself. The woman clearly thought she was mad.

“Of course.” Beatrice nodded. “In fact, when Walt wakes up, I’ll have him help me. He might actually know better than me when it comes to your father’s friends.”

Relief rushed through Vera. “That would be so helpful. Really, when you cut through all the rumors and the innuendos, don’t you think this perpetrator had to be someone my parents knew? You and the sheriff and my parents were friends for so long, you know what I mean. Who could possibly believe that either of them was capable of murder?”

Beatrice reached over, placed a hand on Vera’s. “You don’t have to convince me. Your parents would never have harmed anyone.”

The relief at hearing that confirmation made her want to hug the woman.

Before she could ask about any unsolved disappearances from the time frame the victims were put in the cave, Vera’s cell vibrated against her hip. She’d forgotten it was in her pocket.

“Excuse me.” She fished it out and checked the screen. A text from Bent.

Meet me at the Church of Christ on Washington Street. Important.

Seemed an odd place to meet, but maybe going to his place today wasn’t feasible, and the FBI was likely hanging out at his office or the cave by now.

She sent him a thumbs-up and turned back to Beatrice. “Thank you so much for understanding and agreeing to help. I really appreciate it. I have a meeting with Bent, so I have to go.” She stood.

Beatrice pushed to her feet a little slower. “You go on and don’t worry. Walt and I will do all we can to help.”

Thank God for friends like the Fraleys.

Church of Christ

Washington Street, Fayetteville, 11:30 a.m.

Bent waited for Vera in the parking lot behind the church. There was another truck parked next to his. Dark in color. Black or dark blue. Not one she recognized.

Vera parked nose to nose with Bent’s truck and climbed out. “What’s going on?”

She imagined Higdon had already called to complain that he hadn’t been able to get his hands on the photographs. Mentally, she was working at getting prepared for what came next. Her conversation with Eve had reminded her of all the reasons Higdon’s suggestion about their father harming their mother was impossible. She would fight him over the exhumation.

“There’s something I need to show you.”

She walked closer to where he waited between his truck and the other one. As she neared, she noted damage on the front end of the other truck. Not blue, she decided. Black, maybe.

“I think I’ve found the truck involved in the incident with your sister’s car.” He gestured to the damage on the front end.

Now that she was closer, it was obvious the blackish color was actually a really dark green. Vera looked from the truck to the church. “Did a member of the church leave it here?” That was one way to avoid having the damage spotted. She doubted the police perused church parking lots in search of hit-and-run vehicles. Except, here they were.

“It belongs to Willard Carmichael. You might remember him. He’s a deacon here.”

Vera made a face. If this was the Willard Carmichael she remembered, he was old. Like ninety. “Does he still drive? Maybe he allowed someone to borrow it.”

Bent shook his head in answer to her suggestion. “He said it’s been sitting here for nearly two weeks. There’s a mechanical issue, and the man who’s making the repairs is waiting on parts.”

How was that possible, considering the truck ran into Eve’s car just the day before yesterday? She said as much to Bent.

“It won’t start,” Bent explained. “Carmichael gave me the keys, and I tried myself. It’s been sitting right here all this time.” He pointed to the pavement directly in front of the truck. “If you’ll notice there’s a bit of a skid mark. Like another vehicle made a sudden stop right there.”

---