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A mother who’d been fully engaged with raising her children. One who loved life deeply and treasured the smallest of things—like butterflies and flowers and the perfect stone for creating artistic beauty. A father who worked hard and somehow found endless patience no matter how tired he was when he came home from work each evening.
This had not been home for a very long time, yet somehow, it always would be. Funny how life was like that. You spent years dreaming of escaping a place, and no matter how far and fast you ran, you could never get completely away. It was part of you. Entrenched on a cellular level.
She’d lived in the South her whole life, so one would think she would be used to the heat and the swelter. Who could possibly acclimate to this level of misery?
I like dead people.” She breathed a laugh. “At this point, maybe more than the living.”
What kind of big sister left her little sister behind to deal with all the fallout? One like me. Evidently. Did that make her a bad sister? Maybe. But she couldn’t go back and do it differently.
Hope welled in her sister’s eyes. “You’ll help me?” “Of course, dummy. I’m your sister.”
Bent set his hands on his hips. Since he couldn’t exactly punch an old man, he felt like he needed to do something.
Bent went first. Vera insisted. She really didn’t want to get down on all fours and stick her butt in the air while he watched.
“Things are getting too interesting around here. It’s like a streaming family drama. I can’t wait for the next episode.”
Anytime your emotions were out of control, it was better to say nothing at all. A single misspoken or slipped word could cause irreparable damage.
“A secret isn’t a secret if anyone else knows.”
Vera froze. Oh hell. “You killed him?” “He was a really bad guy, Vee. I wouldn’t have—” “Holy shit! What’re you now? Dexter?”
Vera followed him to the door. “I appreciate you playing bodyguard last night.” “Any time.” He settled his hat into place.
If he found out who did this . . . there would be serious hell to pay, and that was after he’d beaten the ever-loving daylights out of the driver.
She had never liked needing anyone else, especially when she was angry.
“I feel like,” he said slowly, “I should come over and babysit you.”
