Vera cringed. Hopefully.
6
Wilton Cabin
Giles Hollow Road, 3:00 p.m.
A stop at the hospital before going to the Wilton cabin had given Vera a chance to check in with Luna about her father-in-law while Bent followed up on Alicia Wilton’s condition. The sole survivor from the cabin murders was being airlifted to Nashville’s Vanderbilt Hospital. Unfortunately, Mr. Andrews’s heart attack had been a major event, and he was being airlifted as well to Nashville’s Saint Thomas Hospital. Jerome would be heading in that same direction to be with his father, at least until the man had stabilized.
Luna would be staying behind. The added stress of hanging around a hospital waiting room wouldn’t be a good thing, Jerome had insisted. Vera had promised him she would stop by later to check on Luna. Between her and Eve, Luna would be well taken care of. Jerome appeared to appreciate Vera saying so. It was difficult to tell how Luna felt. That was the part that currently worried Vera the most.
Luna wasn’t the type to avoid conversation. But whatever she was thinking amid this crisis, she didn’t want to talk about it. Maybe Eve could prompt her to share her feelings. Vera shook her head. She should know better than to hope for that. The only people Eve enjoyed conversing with were dead ones. Maybe all the really good morticians did.
Vera was immensely grateful their quick stop at the hospital was pulled off without a hitch. She and Bent were able to slip in and then out through a rear maintenance exit, avoiding the cluster of reporters in the main lobby. It was rarely so easy to steer clear of encounters with the news media, particularly with a high-profile victim like Thomas Wilton. Word of his murder would be the talk of the town already.
From there they left Vera’s SUV at Bent’s office and drove to the Wilton property. Vera struggled to keep her mind off Luna’s nightmare and on the homicide case as Bent briefed her on his interview with Valeri Erwin, which unfortunately provided little insight into the murders.
By the time they were through the main gate and deep in the woods at the crime scene, Vera was more than ready to dive into the investigation.
Frankly, this—Vera surveyed the cabin as she and Bent climbed the steps to the front porch—was a much-needed break from the sister situation.
She waited while Bent unsealed the cabin’s front door. The forensics folks had done their work, and the bodies had been moved to the morgue. Dr. Jenny Collins would be a busy lady for a few days. Collins was from Franklin County. She had moved here specifically to take the position of medical examiner. The mayor had appointed her, and no one in the legislative body dissented. She was newly forty, a few months younger than Vera, and single. The best Vera could tell, the woman had her eyes set on Bent.
But Vera wasn’t jealous.Right, keep telling yourself that.
She kicked the notion out of her head as she followed Bent inside. “Have you notified next of kin?”
The odor of death instantly smacked her in the face, filled her lungs and made her want to gag. You just never got used to that smell.
“No one to notify as far as we know.” He flipped on the overhead lights. “Wilton’s parents are deceased. No siblings or other extendedfamily that we are aware of. As for the wife, Alicia, Deputy Hastings is trying to track down any family she may have.”
“Hopefully Mrs. Wilton will wake up and give you all the information you need.”Like what the hell happened here.Vera tried to sound optimistic since the wife, though in a coma, was in stable enough condition to be transferred to Vanderbilt Hospital. That was something. Assuming the killer was still nearby, the news would no doubt make him—or her—damned nervous.
“We should be so lucky,” Bent agreed. “Unfortunately there are no cameras here at the cabin, but the upside is there’s only one entrance onto the property, and that’s back at the main house where there are cameras. Olson is there right now, reviewing the footage. A couple of other deputies are conducting a walk-through just in case whoever did this”—he gestured to the room at large—“went there before or after.”
“The killer may have been looking for something more than money or jewelry if robbery was the intent.”
“There’s a hell of a lot to choose from at the main house. Not so much here,” Bent allowed, then he walked toward the sofa, where a pool of blood had dried like long-forgotten, spilled spaghetti. “The first victim was here.”
“Stabbed?” Vera studied the positioning relative to the nearest egress.
“Three times in the chest. He had defense wounds on his right forearm and left hand.” Bent’s gaze rested on hers. “A coyote, according to Erwin, was chewing on his arm when she arrived. The door was ajar, and when she opened it, the animal took one look at her and vamoosed.”
Vera shuddered. “Is that normal behavior for coyotes?”
“Generally”—Bent pushed his trademark cowboy hat up his forehead—“they avoid interaction with humans. But they will dine on a carcass, human or otherwise, if the opportunity presents itself. With the door open and no one stirring about, it was an opportunity for a fresh meal.”
Vera learned something new every day, no matter that she’d grown up here—on a farm, no less. “Have you identified the other victims yet?” Bent had told her that everyone in the place had been naked. No ID handy generally went along with being naked.
“We found a wallet with a driver’s license in a drawer in one of the bedrooms. The photo is a match to the male. Seth Parson from New Orleans. Nothing on the female yet. No cell phones for anyone who was here.”
“Maybe there was a rule of no phones for this party. They could be locked in a safe somewhere.” People often had rules when having private parties of this nature. Based on what Vera had heard so far, this one certainly had all the earmarks of averyprivate party. She followed Bent and the bloody footprints into the kitchen area, where another pool of blood as well as significant arterial spray warned that the second victim had fallen there. “Looks like someone hit an artery.”
Bent tapped his abdomen. “There were two stab wounds mid-torso and lots of defense wounds on both arms and hands. Final strike was a jab at the shoulder. I think the pullback on that one is how the nick to the neck happened. Just deep enough to open up that artery.”
Vera turned back to the living room area. She visually measured the room at large. Anticipation of a puzzle, and this was definitely a puzzle, tingled along her nerve endings. “Whoever did this was prepared. Walked right in without warning and went to work. No prolonged struggles. No chase.” She studied the footprints. “Bare feet. Are you thinking the killer left these tracks?”
“The tracks lead to the fourth victim, the wife, and the knife was found under her, so on first look it would appear she was the killer. But I have a hard time seeing her overtaking all these victims—especially the males—without more of a struggle, or at least injuries to herself.” He shrugged. “I suppose the vics could have been inebriated beyond the ability to react. But I’m far from convinced.” Bent gestured to the bloodstains near the fridge. “The unidentified female may have been less so than the rest, which allowed her to put up a better fight.”
