Deeper Than the Dead (Vera Boyett, #1)

by Debra Webb

It’s like a cone-shaped tower—like the one at the Twistee Treat shops we stopped at for ice cream when we went to the beach in Florida.”

“Surrounded by the dead. It’s so much more peaceful than being crowded by the living.”

“If he tells me we have another set of remains, I might just scream.”

Then her mother stared at the stones and whispered something Eve almost missed. The cancer is my punishment.

Except she wasn’t a star. A star would have spotted the trouble before it happened.

Whatever else he had done, he’d damned well been in her house, possibly twice, caused her to take a tumble down the stairs, and scared the hell out of Luna. Unless, of course, there was some other pretentious ass in this little town who wore $2,000 aftershave.

George, ninety if he was a day,

“Now, now, Lyn. No need to speak ill of the dead,” her husband warned. Lyn made a tsking sound. “Live by the sword, die by the sword.”