Page 38 of Closer Than You Know

If the person who’d taken Marshall, Randall, and Honeycutt was not the same person who’d taken Nolan Baker, then he was in trouble. Serious trouble. Because the sheriff’s department was looking for the same perpetrator ... not someone different.

As much as she did not want to entertain the idea even for a second, it was there, waiting on the edge of her thoughts. And it tore at her insides.

If, by some bizarre twist of fate, the Messenger was involved in Nolan’s abduction ... if he had for some reason chosen this time to come after Vera through some other means—a surrogate, maybe someone he’d met in prison—he might capitalize on an ongoing situation. It was the perfect path to worm his way into her life. With the Messenger, nothing was outside the realm of possibility.

And if that was the case, Baker would last two or three more days at most, depending on his ability to keep the bastard entertained, and then his throat would be cut. He would bleed out on the ground or wherever he was left to die—some place that had meaning for him.

If the Messenger was in any way involved, it would turn everything—not just this case—upside down. No one, least of all Vera, wanted to learn that Solomon had found a protégé interested in creating heinous crimes similar to those of his past.

Because if there was a new partner, the bigger question was, What the hell had that deviant been doing all this time? Watching his idol ... waiting for his turn ... training for the big production? Whatever the case, he, too, might very well have left in his wake a trail of mayhem that hadn’t been found yet.

Or was Nolan Baker to be his first?

16

Baker ResidenceMulberry Avenue, Fayetteville, 4:50 p.m.

Bent wasn’t looking forward to how this would likely turn out. Elizabeth and Carl Baker were high-profile citizens, and if by some chance he and Vee were wrong ... this could be a real pain in the ass for a very long time to come. People like Elizabeth Baker didn’t forgive and forget.

But he and Vee weren’t wrong ... he was damned certain of that conclusion now.

He glanced at Vee as he knocked on the door. She tucked a stray blond hair, which had loosened from her ponytail, behind her ear. He should know better than to worry in the first place. She wouldn’t be wrong. The woman was very, very good at figuring out the real story behind all the layers. She had been extensively trained in collecting crime statistics and predicting patterns in criminal behavior, as well as coming up with deterrents. She was good ... damned good.

Vee looked at him suddenly, as if sensing his attention on her.

She scowled. “What?”

When she snapped at him that way—which was fairly often—a little line formed between her eyebrows. But it was the way her lips pursed that really got to him. Didn’t matter how often or why she got mad at him ... he loved every minute of it.

Maybe his low-down daddy had been right—he wasn’t too bright.

Bent banished thoughts of his father and lifted one shoulder in a purposely vague shrug. “Nothing.” He knocked on the door again.

“You think I’m wrong.” She crossed her arms over her chest and eyed him with a narrowed gaze. “I hope I am. It would be far better for Nolan and his family if that’s the case.”

“The thought never crossed my mind,” he insisted, his attention fixed on the door, which he hoped would open now. Maybe he had resisted the idea at first, but deep down he had known she was onto something.

She made a disagreeable sound.

Lucky for Bent the door flew open just then. Elizabeth stood there, her eyes red and swollen from hours—no, days—of crying. Man, this was really going to suck.

Fear stole over her face. “Have you found him?” she asked, her voice trembling.

Bent figured she used the pronounhiminstead of her son’s name because it hurt less. Oh hell. Unless Nolan Baker was suddenly released in the next few hours with obscure drawings all over his body, this would not end well for anyone involved.

“No, ma’am. We have not, but we feel another look in his apartment is in order. If you’re good with that.”

She seemed to shake herself, as if she’d expected different news and wasn’t quite sure how to process Bent’s words. “Oh. Well ... sure. Sure. I’ll get the key.”

Elizabeth disappeared into the house.

“Are you going to ask her, or am I?” Vee demanded quietly.

He glanced at her. “I’m thinking we should wait until we’ve had that look. It’ll make things easier.”

She made another of those ornery grunts. “Chickenshit.”

His lips twitched with the need to smile despite present circumstances. The last time she’d called him that, she’d been seventeen years old and had dared him to kiss her. He hadn’t wanted to—well, no, he had wanted to. But out of respect for her mama—no matter that she’dbeen dead for months by that time—he hadn’t wanted to cross that line. Even at twenty-one he had known there would be no turning back. But Vee had lugged him right across it with her fearlessness. She had been the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. And the most intriguing.

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