Page 85 of Deeper Than the Dead
“Sheriff Fraley.” She smiled. “You remember me? Vera Boyett.”
“How could I forget you?” He chuckled, then coughed. “You’ll have to excuse me for not standing.” He gestured to the chair.
“I understand, sir.”
“Bent.” Fraley gave him a nod of acknowledgment. “Y’all have a seat.”
“Thanks for seeing us without notice, Walt.” Bent waited for Vera to sit first.
Fraley chuckled. “It’s not like my calendar is full.”
Vera perched on the edge of the sofa nearer to Fraley. His wheelchair was parked next to a side table only a few feet away.
Bent settled at the other end, giving her much-appreciated space.
“I was sorry to hear,” Fraley began, “about Sheree. Course this is the outcome I expected when she first went missing.”
“You never considered the possibility that she ran off with another man?” Vera was interested in the former sheriff’s reasons for the conclusion.
Fraley contemplated her for a moment. “I did, of course, but deep down it didn’t feel right. Mostly because she had it made with your daddy. He gave her anything she wanted and seemed oblivious to her running around.”
This was accurate, for the most part. Toward the end there had been some arguing between the two, generally instigated by Sheree.
“Did Beatrice mention that she and I talked this morning while you were resting?”
He frowned. “She didn’t, but then at our age things slip our minds more easily than they once did.”
Regret and frustration nudged Vera, but she let it slide. No need to press the issue.
“Can you walk me through your investigation?” Vera asked. Bent shifted his position, and she glanced at him. “Bent has gone over some of it with me, but not the finer details.”
He didn’t look at her, kept his attention on Fraley. Just as well, he wouldn’t have liked the look she fired back.
“When Sheree didn’t come home that first night,” Fraley said, “Vernon came to see me. I told him we needed to give her another day to see if she showed up before we panicked.”
Her father had panicked anyway. He’d searched all night. She and Eve were scared to death. They both had to miss school the next day to take care of Luna. Then they had the weekend to figure something out for the baby. Their father was in no condition to do anything for his daughters, not even baby Luna. Beatrice arranged a rotating lineup of sitters among her ladies group from church. Vera appreciated the help, but the sympathetic and sometimes judgmental looks from the volunteers were not what they needed. The unpleasant attitudes hadn’t bothered Vera as much as they had Eve. She’d been devastated by all of it.
Understandable, given what had happened in that bathroom.
“Vernon and I,” Fraley went on, “discussed anyone who might be considered close to Sheree or a friend, but to tell the truth, she didn’t really have any friends. Most of the women in town didn’t like her for reasons I’m sure you’re aware of.”
As Fraley spoke, Bent checked the screen on his cell phone, then stood and walked out of the room.
Vera’s gut knotted. Probably something else about the case.
Strong-arming her attention back to the former sheriff, she asked, “What about this Garth Rimmey?” Vera vaguely recalled him coming to the house once and arguing with Sheree. Her father wasn’t home, but Vera called him. Afterward, she wished she hadn’t. The two, her father and Rimmey, argued fiercely. They didn’t come to blows, but Vera and Eve were terrified. Evidently their father had called Sheriff Fraley en route, and he showed up just in time.
“I grilled that man,” Fraley said with a shaky nod. “I even kept him in holding for nearly seventy-two hours. Nowadays you couldn’t get away with that without an arrest, but things were a little different back then. He got himself a lawyer and complained that we’d tried to beat a confession out of him, but the truth is, he was all beat up when we picked him up.”
The memory of a hushed conversation between her father and the sheriff whispered through her mind. The sheriff demanding to know if her father was sure and him insisting that if Rimmey had known anything, he would have talked.
“Don’t you just hate the ones who do that sort of thing.” Vera smiled, no matter that the remark was a bit on the sarcastic side. Fraley or one of his deputies had likely beat the hell out of Rimmey. Then again, she supposed it could have been her father. He had been out searching for Sheree that whole night after she disappeared.
Not that Vera had any sympathy for the scumbag either way, but there were laws protecting those suspected of crimes. No matter how undeserving.
You mean like you, a little voice said. Vera dismissed it. She hadn’t committed a serious crime ... she’d only cleaned up after what might have been one. No. It was an accident.
“You’re satisfied,” Vera asked, moving on, “with the people you interviewed and the extent to which you went to determine what happened to Sheree?”
