While Bent rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher, she poured healthy shots of Gentleman Jack into two glasses. By the time he joined her on the sofa, she was already making headway on hers.
Bent picked up his glass and sipped the whiskey. He didn’t say a word, just watched her with those assessing blue eyes. Her own eyes were blue but not like Bent’s. His were that incredible blue of the sky ona clear, sunny day. The color that everyone noticed. And those amazing eyes were set in a face even more handsome now than when they were so damned young and so crazy in love. That he wore his hair longer, the way he did back then, and still looked amazing—maybe more so even—made her entire being feel lighter somehow.
“You trying to start something besides a conversation?”
His deep voice rumbled through her, and she would love nothing more than to absolutely start something. But that would only be putting off the inevitable.
“We both know,” she said pointedly, “the way her head hit the wall, and that broken spindle tells a story of its own. The woman didn’t just fall down the stairs.”
There, she’d said it. That part, anyway.
“I can’t argue the assessment.” He took a swallow of Gentleman Jack. Licked his lips as if savoring the taste.
Vera could hardly shift her attention away from those lips. Damn, this man made her want him so easily. “The drive from Luna’s house to town and back is maybe twenty-five minutes. Add to that the time to select the paint, have it shaken, and then to pay for it. I’m guessing she was gone an hour and fifteen minutes or so. Maybe a little longer if she took her time to avoid going back to face Jackie any sooner than necessary.”
“You think someone else stopped by while Luna was out?”
It didn’t help that he sounded skeptical. “It is possible,” she argued. “If we’re looking at potential scenarios, that could be one.”
“You’re right.” He swept a wisp of hair from her cheek with his fingertips, making her shiver. “Are you thinking the husband?”
Vera forced her full focus on the conversation rather than the man who she just noticed smelled so damned good. Hard to ignore with them seated hip to hip. He’d worn that same subtle, earthy aftershave for as long as she had known him. The scent made her restless.
“Why not? Statistics show it’s more often the spouse than another family member or a stranger. Maybe that’s why he had a heart attack?”Hope dared to sprout. “They may have argued. He pushed her—whether by accident or on purpose. Then he rushed home and had a heart attack.”
Vera tightened her fingers around her glass, had another sip.
Bent did the same. “Has Luna mentioned trouble between Jerome’s parents?”
“No, but she wouldn’t.” Vera shrugged. “Eve and I tell each other everything, but Luna’s much more private. I’ll ask her. In light of what’s happened, she should tell me whatever she knows.”
“Any news on the father-in-law?”
“If he remains stable, they’ll do the surgery he needs in the morning.” Vera opened the last text she’d received from Luna. “Still in and out of consciousness. Vitals are fairly stable. Jerome is staying at the hospital until his father is out of surgery and stable.” She met his gaze once more. “Sounds guardedly optimistic.”
“Certainly could be worse.” Bent finished off his whiskey. He set his glass aside and turned toward her, reaching again for a strand of hair. “What about other theories?”
A shiver rushed over her skin as his fingers trailed along her neck. “I get the feeling you’re not really in the mood to discuss scenarios.” She was rapidly losing the mood for conversation as well.
“As true as that is”—he grinned—“I agree we should consider all options when and if we find solid evidence to believe the woman was pushed.”
Vera’s gaze narrowed, and that warm feeling vanished as the meaning behind his words penetrated her weary brain. “You asked the ME to have a look at the body, didn’t you?”
He shrugged. “After Fanning’s theatrics, I figured we should cover that base. So yeah. I did.”
Vera couldn’t deny it was a good move. “I actually intended to suggest as much.”
“That’s because you’re good at your job.” He glanced at her lips, then sighed. “Any new thoughts on Erwin and the triple homicide we have hanging over our heads?”
“The jury’s still out on Erwin.” Vera placed her empty glass next to his. “I’ll do some digging. See if her past really looks as unremarkable as she would have us believe. We need more on Alicia and who she was before she became Mrs. Wilton. Finding out who Seth Parson was to her might give us something on Alicia as well as the unidentified female vic. We also need to know what Alicia was set to inherit if her husband died.”
“You have your work cut out for you.” Bent teased another lock of her hair with his fingers. “I’ll have Hastings assist you with that, if you’d like.”
“Let me do the background digging. Hastings can focus on the present and local sources.”
“All right.” Bent nodded. “We’ll concentrate our efforts on that and whatever Conover can give us from the scene. By the way, I sent Deputy Lenora Pinckard to Vanderbilt to keep watch on Alicia Wilton just in case the killer isn’t finished. The Davidson County sheriff is providing a deputy to rotate twelve-hour shifts with her. I wanted one of ours close by for the duration.”
“If she wakes up and can tell us what happened, that would be optimal.” But Vera and Bent both understood that was not likely. With the kind of head trauma the woman had sustained, she might not remember anything. The best they could hope for was one or more fragmented pieces of the puzzle.
