Chapter 25
Regency Inn
Vera had to wait an extra ten minutes since Bent had insisted on meeting her at the motel.
He didn’t want her alone with this guy in his room.
She would let that one go, since she was still a little weak and off kilter.
The concussion symptoms were considerably better.
However, the ache from the blow was far from gone but nothing she couldn’t handle.
No matter that the dizziness and brain fog were mostly gone, she wasn’t herself just yet, and she wasn’t going to pretend otherwise.
Being overtaken by a guy Parson’s size would be a piece of cake just now.
She doubted she had it in her at the moment to kick a gnat’s ass.
She was pushing the limit at this point in the evening, and her body was reminding her she needed rest. And food.
Bent reached her car door, opened it and waited for her to climb out. “You look tired.”
“Thanks, Sheriff.” She squared her shoulders and tried her best not to appear exhausted, even though her every muscle and bone said otherwise. “You look damned good, as always.”
He shook his head and closed her door. It was true.
Damn it. Gray Benton always looked amazing.
He was the kind of handsome that couldn’t be denied, no matter the circumstances or his condition.
Naked, clothed, clean, dirty, happy, sad, pissed off.
The man simply was as sexy as hell. It was his natural state.
It just wasn’t fair. Women couldn’t pull that off without help.
That barely there grin of his made her heart—as tired as she was just now—react. “I didn’t say you don’t look amazing, Vee. Because you do. You always do. But I know when you’re tired. I also know when you haven’t taken time for a meal.”
She shoulder-bumped him as they walked to the door of Parson’s room. “Does that mean you’re going to take extra-good care of me again tonight?”
He hesitated before knocking, looked directly into her eyes. “You know it.”
She did. And that was the God’s truth. From the moment she reappeared in her hometown, this man had not once let her down.
He was her friend, her lover, and the one man she would not want to do this life without.
The realization unsettled her just the tiniest bit.
But it was the truth, and there was no point denying it.
In fact, it was time she owned that reality in the bright light of day .
. . not just in the dark or when no one was watching.
Bent knocked on the door, and Vera shooed the thought away. She was really, really exhausted.
The door opened, and Larry Parson looked from Vera to Bent and back. “Come on in, Sheriff. Ms. Boyett.”
Once he’d closed the door, Bent looked to Vera since this was her episode of the ongoing drama. “Mr. Parson, we really need proof of when you left New Orleans and headed in this direction.”
Parson settled his hands on his hips. “I left New Orleans about five this morning.”
“Why so early?” Bent matched his stance, hands on hips. “Did you have an appointment with someone?”
Parson shook his head. “I don’t know anyone here.
Like I said before, I’ve been trying to get in touch with my brother since Monday night.
Sandy wasn’t answering her phone either, and I was getting damned worried.
I found that message”—he directed this at Vera—“you left. I didn’t even realize I had a message on that old answering machine until I was going to bed last night.
It was late, so I planned to call you back this morning.
” He stared at the floor a moment. “Anyway, about three thirty I woke up in a cold sweat. I guess it was a combination of your message and all those unanswered calls. I tried to walk off the bad feeling, but I couldn’t, so I decided to make the necessary arrangements and drive up here.
I figured that was the best way to find out what the hell was going on. ”
“Do you have any proof?” Bent pressed. “A receipt of any sort that proves what time you left?”
Parson frowned. “I stopped for gas not long after I left, then I made a quick pass through a drive-through around noon. Let me check my Bus and see if I kept the receipts.” He grabbed his keys and headed for the door.
Bent exchanged a look with Vera. She felt confident he was thinking that he was glad the guy didn’t close the door so he could watch him dig around in his vintage Bus to ensure he wasn’t going to drive away.
Vera’s overtired brain stuck on that damned hardware store receipt and how she had to figure out how the timing on the day Jackie died could be wrong—it had to be wrong.
She sucked in a big breath and pushed the thought away.
Parson returned to the room with a bag from a Wendy’s. He kicked the door shut. “Okay, I didn’t find the gas receipt. I may not have grabbed it. I usually don’t. There’s generally no reason to keep it. Just something else to throw away.”
He sat down on the bed and prowled through the bag. The stale odor of fries made Vera’s stomach sit up and pay attention. Obviously she really did need to eat.
“Here we go.” Parson thrust the receipt at Bent. “That should show what time and location I grabbed lunch. Will that work for you?”
Bent accepted the receipt and looked it over. He glanced at Vera. “It’s a Huntsville location at 12:15 p.m. today.” He handed the receipt back to the man. “Thanks. That tells us you were nearby today at noon, but it doesn’t really confirm when you left Louisiana.”
“Wait.” Parson appeared to have had an epiphany. “When I left, I sent a friend of mine a pic of where I hid the key so she could come over and take care of my cat.”
Vera would never have taken the guy for a cat person. “What’s your cat’s name?”
He opened the photo app on his cell. “Felix.” He showed Vera a pic of a flowerpot containing a dead plant. “I left a key under that pot.”
“The date shows it was taken this morning at 4:49,” she said as Parson flashed the screen at Bent.
“I sent the pic to Rhonda in a text.” He showed the next screen first to Vera then to Bent.
Rho, key is here. Thanks for this. Felix appreciates it.
His friend Rhonda had replied at 4:55.
“Do you typically text your friends at that hour?”
“Rhonda works early, so I knew she’d be up.”
“You mind giving me her number?” Bent reached into his shirt pocket and retrieved the small notepad he carried with him. “We can confirm what you’ve told us with her.”
Might have been quicker and easier if the guy had just mentioned his friend when Bent first asked for confirmation.
“Once you arrived in Fayetteville”—Vera moved on to the next question—“where did you go first?”
“I went to the Wilton house. But the deputy wouldn’t tell me anything. He wouldn’t even tell me how to find you.” He looked to Vera. “I had to look that up myself. I googled you and found a story from a local newspaper about your farm. Something about bodies discovered in a cave.”
Damn Nolan Baker. Vera kicked the little shit out of her head. “Was anyone else at the Wilton home when you stopped?”
Parson nodded. “Some chick. Short.” He held his hand about shoulder level. “Dark hair. She came to the door while I was talking to the deputy, but she didn’t say anything.” He frowned. “Who is she?”
Vera ignored his question. “One last question, Mr. Parson. To your knowledge did Seth have any contact with Alicia prior to two or three weeks ago?”
He shook his head resolutely. “When he got that first text from her, he told me he hadn’t heard from her in almost two years.
I mean, he was seriously torn up about it.
I can’t tell you exactly what day it was—two, two and a half, maybe three weeks ago tops—but I can tell you that it turned his world upside down. ”
“Thank you.” Vera had all she needed from him at this time. “We’ll get out of your way for now.”
Bent said, “I’m sure we’ll have more questions.”
Parson held up his hands. “Like I told you, I’m not going anywhere until I know why this happened to my brother.”
Something about this man’s answers—his brother’s past drawing him into trouble—unsettled Vera. Maybe because she knew better than most how the past could do just that. Old ghosts were rarely laid completely to rest.
When they were outside, Vera warned Bent, “I’m following you home. I don’t want to be at the farm tonight.”
He shot her a heart-stopping smile across the hood of his truck. “Good.”
Benton Ranch
Old Molino Road, 9:00 p.m.
Not only had Bent prepared dinner, but he’d gone to her house and picked up everything she would need for tomorrow while Vera soaked in his big old claw-foot tub. Although she kept a set of her usual toiletries and cosmetics here, she’d run out of clothes and underthings.
By the time she was out of the tub, had blown her hair dry and pulled on her favorite nightshirt (that old Bon Jovi tee he’d bought her a million years ago), he already had dinner prepared.
Now, that was a man who understood how to treat a woman.
Seated at the table, Vera poured herself another glass of wine.
He kept a decent selection, no matter that he was definitely not a wine man.
For guests, she supposed. She’d have to remind him to get more merlot.
He also kept a bottle of Gentleman Jack on hand for those evenings that required a little more bracing. Vera was a big fan of Jack.
Bent checked his cell, then left it on the counter and rejoined Vera.
“That was a text from Conover. He lifted a good many prints from Erwin’s apartment and confirmed the locks did not appear to have been tampered with.
” He picked up his glass of tea. “You know how this goes. The chance of finding a comparison print not belonging to someone she knows in one of the databases is unlikely. More frustrating, whoever broke into Erwin’s place apparently used a key and probably wore gloves. ”