“One of them is lying. That’s for sure.” Bent’s money was on Erwin with that one.
“They’re all lying.” Vera looked up at him. “Erwin, Carter, Hernandez, and Martinez. You heard what she said about Martinez. He basically threatened her in that barn.” She shook her head. “All those loyal employees.”
“Loyalty sometimes only lasts for as long as it’s beneficial to one party or the other.” Bent had learned that during his military days.
“Another thing,” Vera pointed out. “The killer wanted Alicia to look guilty. Like she set the whole thing up and there would be no one to confirm she was telling the truth when she said otherwise—assuming she survived. Christ, and the way he banged her head on that step. I don’t think he expected her to be around to tell anything.” She shook her head. “The way I see it, one or all had to know about the will and the move. That has to be the reason this whole thing was set in motion.”
“We know it wasn’t a burglary,” Bent agreed. “Not one thing appeared to be taken. Not the Rolex lying on the bureau in the bedroom or the wallet filled with cash next to it. That leaves the will and the move, like you said. Those with the most to lose had to act before it was too late.”
“The burner phone and the innuendos from the staff would leave Alicia—dead or alive—looking like the killer,” Vera said almost to herself. “A jury would believe it, too, considering she’s the only one who didn’t get stabbed. The drugs and the lack of clothing would all serve to confirm it was a wild sex party—just as we assumed. It has to be Erwin and the others.”
And like always, Vera was on the money with her conclusions.
Benton Ranch
Old Molino Road, 11:50 p.m.
Bent collapsed onto the mattress. He was spent. “That was ... well ...” He laughed. “Damn, I can’t find the right word.”
Vera rolled to her side to face him. “I think the one you’re looking for isout of this world.”
“That’s four words.”
“Whatever.” She flopped onto her back and appeared to admire the authentic historic beams he’d added to this room’s cathedral-styleceiling. “You know, I really do love this house. I know I’ve told you this before, but your mother would be so proud of you.”
He rolled toward her, a smile stretched across his lips. “I can say the same about you and your mother.”
Bent was grateful he had known Vera’s mom. She had been a very special woman. She had helped him when he had no one else. He wished Vera could have known his mother, too, but she died when he was just a little boy. They had both lost someone very important to them, and somehow they made it anyway.
“You absolutely can.” Vera smiled, traced a fingertip down his jaw. “I love looking at your face.”
Her words did things to him that made him want to ... but they’d already done that a couple of times since getting back from Nashville. First in the shower and then just now. “You know if you love this place so much, you should just move in. Let Eve and Suri move to the farm.”
Vera made a face. “What makes you think Eve or Suri wants to live on the farm?”
“Because they love it. Remember last Christmas when you hosted dinner. It was all they talked about.”
More frowning. “You’re right. They love the grandfather clock. The fireplaces. Eve should have just said so.”
“She would never say anything to make you feel like you had to accommodate her.”
“You might be right.” Vera rubbed at her forehead.
“Your head hurting?” He wanted to kill the guy—or woman—who’d hurt her. But first he had to confirm their damned identity.
“No. It’s just too full of case notes and faces and scenarios.”
He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Stop thinking about the case. We talked out all the scenarios and details we know on the drive back from Nashville.”
“You’re right,” Vera agreed.
“We’re not talking about work anymore.” He tugged at a strand of her silky hair. “Do you want to move in here with me?”
She studied him again in the dim light the bedside lamp managed to cast across the bed. “You really want that, don’t you?”
“Don’t you?”
“Just say that you do,” she tossed back at him, “and then I’ll say.”
