“I’ll be fine,” Vera said tightly.
“Are you sure? You really look—”
“Ms. Erwin,” Bent interrupted as he ushered Vera toward the exit. “Deputy Houser is waiting in the ER drop-off lane to take you to your car. I’m sure you’ll want to get home after the morning you’ve had.”
Erwin blinked. “Thank you. Yes. I am overwhelmed and exhausted.” She suddenly looked the part, when the moment before she’d been over-the-top exuberant. “And my head, it really hurts.”
Outside, Erwin waved as the deputy drove her away. Vera scowled as she climbed into Bent’s truck and fastened her seat belt. “That woman is in this up to her eyeballs.”
Bent started the engine. “Is that your anger talking or your professional opinion?”
“Right now”—Vera shoved on her sunglasses—“they are one and the same.”
Bent would wager the Wilton case was mostly solved already. Vera’s instincts were always on the money—even after a severe blow to the head. He glanced at her profile, fear mingling with his worry now.
How in the world would he ever protect her from herself?
12
Wilton Residence
Giles Hollow Road, 1:40 p.m.
Vera was astounded at the very idea that Bent had for one second been naive enough to believe she would go home and rest. He should’ve known better.
She might stay seated on the leather settee in Thomas Wilton’s home office, but she would be a part of these interviews if she had to be propped up with the Sherpa-covered throw pillows the decorator had deemed a perfect complement to the room. Bent had finally recognized he was fighting a losing battle and relented—as long as she drank the water and ate the chips he had insisted on picking up after they left the hospital. She had no idea what purpose he thought the chips served, and she didn’t care. As long as he agreed to her terms.
Once they’d reached a compromise—mostly on his part—he’d given her a folder containing his latest notes and background info on Wilton’s household employees to review while he checked in with his team of deputies to see how the search here was going. The ones he had sent to her house had found nada, of course.
As for the Wilton home, the interior of the house was done, and all were focused on the grounds now. By the time Bent returned to the elegant office with the next staff member to be questioned, Vera had devoured the chips and drunk most of the bottle of water. She hadto admit that the combination of salt and water was helping with the nausea and the weakness. She might even thank him for the suggestion.
Later, of course.
Today a whole slew of reporters had been waiting outside the gate to the property. No surprise, Nolan Baker had been front and center. Vera was pretty sure he’d taken a photo of her as she and Bent rolled past. The man was relentless. It was a miracle he hadn’t shown up outside her house already.
“This is Helen Carter.”
Vera snapped to attention as Bent gestured for the woman he’d introduced to have a seat. Carter took the chair on the left of the desk.
“Vera Boyett is my associate,” he explained as he settled into the chair on the right. “She’ll be assisting with the investigation.”
Vera looked from Bent to Carter. “Thank you for agreeing to speak with us, Ms. Carter.”
Even with the full head of gray hair, Carter looked to be no older than mid-forties. But the background info sheet Bent had provided stated she was fifty-nine. Maybe it was the trim figure or her manner of dress, but she looked great. She was a widow and had been in charge of the kitchen in the Wilton home since it was built.
“I’m happy to help any way I can.” Carter studied Vera as she said this. “I’ve worked for Mr. Wilton since he moved to Fayetteville. He was an excellent employer and a fine man. We’re all devastated by this tragedy.”
“You knew his first wife then.” The statement was Bent’s way of leading into queries about his second wife. A strategy Vera employed regularly.
Since his second wife was the latest big change in Wilton’s life and the only survivor of the weekend killing spree, she would be the subject of close scrutiny. Based on Erwin’s statements alone, Alicia Wilton was a definite suspect. Not to mention finding the murder weapon under her.
Carter shifted her attention to Bent. “Of course. A lovely woman. Really lovely. Nothing like ...” She cleared her throat as if she’d caught herself before saying too much.
“Ms. Carter.” Bent removed his hat and placed it on the desk. “If there is anything about Alicia Wilton that will help with this investigation, I hope you’ll share the information with us.” He glanced at Vera before meeting the other woman’s gaze once more. “Mr. Wilton was brutally murdered. We need to find the person or persons responsible. I’m not suggesting Mrs. Wilton had anything to do with what happened, but it’s important that we look into all potential avenues.”
“Alicia,” Carter began, “is not a nice person. I can’t say that she is capable of murder.” She shrugged. “But ...” She paused to swipe at the tears that had slipped past her lashes. “But she is hateful and self-centered. No one on staff has been excluded from her insensitivity. She treats us like lower-class citizens. She never asks for anything. She demands everything.”
“Did you or one of the other members ever speak to Mr. Wilton about this?” Vera hoped the answer would be yes. She had no tolerance whatsoever for those who treated anyone as if they were lesser humans.
