“Nothing I noticed. Perhaps the autopsy will give us more.”
“If we’re lucky.” Vera straightened. “Thanks, Jenny. I appreciate your time and your insights.”
The ME walked toward the door with Vera. “We should have a girls’ night sometime. Share war stories.”
Vera wasn’t sure she was ready to share war stories with the woman, but she smiled anyway and lied. “Sounds great.”
Vera exited the building and climbed into her SUV. As worrisome as the additional information about Jackie’s injury was, the business with the Xanax nagged at her. She dug her phone from her bag and called Nola Childers’s mother. The woman answered on the second ring. “Hey, Mrs. Childers, it’s Vera Boyett again.”
“Hello, Vera. I hope you’re doing well.”
“I am. Thank you. I hope you don’t mind me asking another question about Nola.”
“Not at all. I love talking about Nola.”
Vera wasn’t so sure she would love this part. “Did Nola ever mention needing an anxiety medication like Xanax?”
“Let me think. No, I don’t think so. Wait, now.” She hummed a note of uncertainty. “No, I’m wrong. Well sort of. Nola told me that she went to the doctor and asked for a Xanax prescription because Valeri was having some terrible anxiety issues and, you know, the poor girl didn’t have any health insurance. So Nola got it for her.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Childers. That clears up a little mystery for me.” Vera hesitated but then decided to go for it. She needed to understand why the Xanax wasn’t mentioned in their previous conversation. “Mrs. Childers, did you or your husband view a copy of Nola’s autopsy report?”
The older woman sighed. “I suppose we should have, but the truth is neither of us could bear the idea of reading the details. We just couldn’t.”
“I understand, thank you again. I’ll call you when I have more news.”
“Looking forward to hearing from you, Vera.”
Vera shook her head as she ended the call. Every instinct she had was screaming at her. Valeri Erwin killed that poor girl.
Her cell vibrated, and Vera jumped, almost dropped it. She stared at the screen. A Louisiana area code. “Vera Boyett.”
“Vera, it’s Larry Parson. Look, I had this weird visitor waiting for me when I got back from lunch. I think we need to talk about it if you ... if you’ve got a few minutes, I mean.”
“Sure. Who was this visitor?” Vera climbed into her SUV and prepared to back out of the parking slot.
“This woman. She wouldn’t give me her name. I met her before but ... look, I ... I’m not trying to be creepy or anything, but can we do this in person? You don’t have to come into my room. We can talk outside ... you know.”
Vera frowned. Had he been drinking? “Be there in five minutes.”
Before leaving the town square, she shot off a text to Bent about the call from Parson. Bent was likely still in the press conference postmortem, but she had learned the hard way not to barrel into risky situations without telling anyone. It never ended well—for her.
“Been there, done that,” she muttered to herself. Hell, she’d bought the T-shirt.
31
Regency Inn
Huntsville Highway, 1:00 p.m.
Vera spotted the VW Bus that belonged to Parson. She parked a couple of slots from his vehicle and got out. There were a few other cars scattered along the front of the motel but no sign of Parson, or anyone else for that matter.
Maybe he hadn’t expected her to get here so fast. She pulled out her phone and called him. After the fourth ring, it went to voicemail. Vera turned all the way around. The place was quiet, other than the traffic noise from the highway. Pool area was empty.
“Damn it.” She tucked her phone into the pocket of her jeans and headed toward the room. There were two floors on this end. Stairs several yards away led up to the second level. Parson was on the first.
She paused at the door, listened for a few seconds. No sound except the hum of the air conditioning. Worry started its nasty dig into her gut. “Mr. Parson,” she called out as she knocked on the door. “It’s Vera Boyett.”
Still nothing. Vera didn’t like this. His vehicle was here. She’d spoken to him just over five minutes ago. Was this his way of getting her into his room? Sweat, mostly from the damned heat, dampened her skin. She glanced around the parking lot, then reached for the doorknob. It turned without resistance. Vera pushed the door inward and scanned the dimly lit room without stepping inside. It took a momentfor her vision to adjust. Bed was made but slightly rumpled. Television was on but muted.
