The Silent Dolls: An absolutely gripping mystery thriller (Detective Ellie Reeves Book 1)

by Rita Herron

  Susan protested about leaving but Ellie insisted on driving her home. By the time they reached the woman’s house, Susan looked glassy-eyed and wooden, shock setting in. Heath’s dark green Pathfinder was already in the drive.

  Thunder boomed in the sky, storm clouds steadily rolling in. As Ellie climbed out, her gaze was drawn to the side yard and the playset. The creak of the empty child’s swing echoed in the wind as it swung back and forth, just as ghostly as the rocking chair on her parents’ porch.

  Behind the fifties ranch house, the North Georgia mountains rose like giant rocky statues. The sharp ridges and cliffs looked even more ominous now that Penny was lost out there in the dark.

  Ellie surveyed the property. The yard was neatly kept, the azaleas on the verge of blooming. A child’s bike lay overturned near the carport. Trampoline alongside the swing in the side yard. Soccer ball against the fence. No warning signs just yet.

  Suddenly a voice called Ellie’s name, and high-heeled footsteps clacked on the driveway behind her. “Detective Reeves, it’s Angelica Gomez from WRIX Channel 5.”

  Ellie exhaled sharply. Gawd. She’d known the press would pounce—the AMBER alert was supposed to get their attention. She just wasn’t ready to face them. And the verdict was still out on whether Angelica Gomez was a vulture or one of the rare good ones.

  A slender man with a full beard trailed Angelica, his camera poised to capture the drama.

  Heath suddenly appeared by the Jeep, eyes narrowed as he looked at her for direction.

  Stepping in front of the reporter and cameraman, Ellie shielded Penny’s mother.

  “Take Mrs. Matthews inside,” she told Heath.

  Susan looked startled when the camera’s light was switched on, and Ellie cursed. “Get that camera away from her,” she shouted. She was tempted to shove it into the leech’s face.

  The cameraman scowled at her but backed away, and Heath ushered Susan to the front door.

  Knowing she couldn’t avoid the press entirely, Ellie licked her dry lips and faced the tall, athletic woman. Angelica’s hair was black, short and spiked, her skin a golden bronze. Attractive, and judging from the determined look on her face, a go-getter. “You got here quickly.”

  Angelica gripped the mic with blood-red fingernails. “Actually, we’ve been waiting for over an hour. We understand a child from Crooked Creek has gone missing?”

  Ellie schooled her expression. She couldn’t reveal any details. Not yet. “Yes, I’m sorry to say that seven-year-old Penny Matthews disappeared today after a family picnic. At this point, it appears she wandered off and lost her way.”

  Angelica started to cut in, but Ellie threw up a warning hand. “All of Bluff County law enforcement, including both Crooked Creek and Stony Gap’s police departments, are on the case, working alongside Search and Rescue teams to search the woods for the child.” She displayed a picture of Penny on her phone, directing it so the cameraman could capture the image. “This is Penny Matthews. She was last seen wearing black leggings, a pink t-shirt with a unicorn on the front, and neon pink sneakers. Anyone with information regarding the child’s disappearance should call local police.” She gestured toward the mountains beyond the house. “Night is on us and a winter storm is barreling in. We’re doing everything possible to find Penny and bring her home before morning.”

  Angelica thrust the microphone towards Ellie. “Do you suspect foul play?”

  The million-dollar question.

  Ellie gently eased the microphone away from her face. “At this time, we have no evidence of that, but are considering all possibilities. We ask you to respect the family’s privacy during this traumatic time. Now, I need to get to work.” Without waiting for a response, she hurried up the sidewalk, her muddy boots pounding the concrete in her haste to avoid the inevitable question on the tip of the reporter’s tongue.

  8.

  Ellie hesitated on the stoop of the Matthews’ house. A tattered wreath made of dried leaves, berries and branches hung on the door. So unlike her own mother’s designer decorations. Not that her parents were wealthy, but appearances meant everything to Vera Reeves. Score one for Mrs. Matthews indulging her daughter’s creativity.

  The creak of the swing echoed in the wind and drew her gaze again. For the briefest moment, she thought she saw a little girl sitting in it. Penny with her blonde curls bobbing up and down. Penny home safe, laughing as she pumped her legs, her hair flying in the wind. Her laughter tumbling across the yard as a butterfly flitted around her face.

  Before she could ring the doorbell, Heath opened it, his expression troubled. Susan Matthews’ tears had probably taxed him to the limits. He was young, late twenties, and a little green, but if he wanted to do police work, he had to grow a pair.

  “Where’s Susan?” Ellie asked as her gaze swept the entryway into the den.

  “In her daughter’s room,” Heath said with a sigh. “She’s in bad shape.”

  Ellie hissed between her teeth. “It’s been a long day.” The night ahead would be even longer.

  “What did you tell the reporter?” Heath asked.

  “The basics.” She paused, then handed him Penny’s mother’s phone. “Working on getting the husband’s. See what you can find on here.”

  He nodded. “On it. I’ve been looking at their financials. The couple was strapped. So far, no secret accounts, deposits or withdrawals.”

  Stepping into the living room, Ellie said, “I want to look around the house, see Penny’s room.” And talk to Susan again. A wife’s account of her marriage might change without her husband hovering over her.

  “Father admitted they had fertility issues and resorted to IVF. Nearly bankrupted them.” As well as fertility treatments being expensive, she’d heard they took an emotional toll on couples. Sometimes even destroying marriages.

  “Stan also claims he had an accident last year. See if they owe money for hospital bills or if he’s taking pain meds.”

  The opioid epidemic was rampant. People suffering from long-term injuries often became hooked on prescribed painkillers. As prescriptions ran out, they became desperate, resorting to any lengths to get hold of their next fix.

  “Also verify they don’t have a trust fund hidden somewhere, or a life insurance policy on Penny.”

  Heath entered the list on his phone. The deputy was organized to the point of being OCD. He was also tech-savvy. Definitely a helpful skillset in an investigation, and not her strong suit.

  Footsteps sounded, and Susan appeared in the doorway from the hall. Her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen. “It’s night. Penny hates the dark,” she said in a choked whisper.

  So did Ellie.

  As if to punctuate Susan’s concern, thunder clapped outside, and raindrops pinged against the windows. The storm would only make the situation more frightening for a child, and Ellie knew that better than anybody. The growl of bears, mountain lions and wolves reverberated through the black forest, sounding terrifyingly closer than they really were. It was impossible to see your own feet, much less if you were stepping in a hole or off a cliff. As if the wild animals weren’t dangerous enough, some claimed there were even man-eating plants hiding among the vegetation.

  “I’m sorry, Susan, so sorry.” Ellie motioned for the woman to join her in the living room.

  Penny’s mother collapsed into a big, tattered club chair and began to chew on her fingernails.

  While Heath went to do the research, Ellie found two glasses in the cupboard, filled them with water and carried one to Susan.

  Dirt and dust from the trail still clogged Ellie’s throat, and she gripped her water glass, downing half of it. “Stan mentioned that his leg was hurting. Did he take medication for pain management?”

  Susan brushed droplets of perspiration from her forehead. “Just ibuprofen. Nothing stronger.” Her eyes widened. “You’re not implying he was doing drugs?”

  “Just asking routine questions. Remember, it’s important that I have a clear picture of
everything that happened today.”

  Susan fidgeted and tapped her foot on the carpeted floor. “I shouldn’t have taken a nap. Shouldn’t have closed my eyes for a second.”

  “You thought Stan was watching her,” Ellie murmured. “I know Stan was upset about losing his job, and his leg was hurting. Is it possible that Stan nodded off? That the two of you both fell asleep at the same time?”

  Susan glanced into her glass as if she might find answers in the clear liquid. “I don’t know. I mean, maybe. But Stan is usually so responsible when he watches Penny. He loves that little girl more than anything in the world.”

  “I’m sure he does,” Ellie said. “But if he fell asleep, maybe more time passed than he realized. That could mean that Penny may have been missing longer than you originally believed.”

  Susan sucked in a deep breath. “I… suppose that’s possible.”

  It meant someone could have taken Penny from right under their noses. But she didn’t point that out. Yet.

  Now to the touchier matter.

  “You mentioned being financially strapped,” Ellie carried on. “Did that strain cause problems in your marriage?”

  Susan leaned forward, clearly agitated. “Listen to me, we were happy. You’re wasting time if you think Stan is to blame for this.” She strode to the back door and looked outside into the night. Lightning zigzagged above the treetops, splintering the dark with jagged lines.

  Susan’s defensive attitude toward her husband could mean they had a loving relationship and family. Although abused women often defended the very men who hurt them.

  “I’m sorry if I upset you,” Ellie said. “I really am just trying to find your daughter. May I see Penny’s room?”

  The woman gestured for Ellie to follow her. The house was old, with worn-out beige carpet and fading yellow paint on the walls, but the rooms appeared to be clean, neat, orderly.

  A spare bedroom held baseball cards, framed sports posters and a Tom Glavine jersey on the wall, indicating Stan was a serious collector of baseball memorabilia. Passing it by, they reached a cotton-candy-pink room. Dozens of stuffed animals were piled on a white iron bed covered in a pale pink coverlet adorned with dancing fairies. A bulletin board hung above a white wicker desk and held numerous childhood drawings of the sun, rainbows and unicorns. On a bookshelf beside the desk were shoe boxes full of seashells Penny must have collected on family vacations. Another contained pinecones, feathers, rocks and a bird’s nest. Penny clearly liked nature.

  Much to her mother’s consternation, Ellie had similar interests at that age. She’d balked at making hair bows and painting headbands with her mother. Instead, Ellie had brought home arrowheads, frogs and turtles.

  Susan scooped up a yellow teddy bear and pressed it to her chest. “Penny wanted to take Toby today, but I wouldn’t let her.” Her voice broke. “She can’t sleep without him and her blankie.”

  Ellie’s chest tightened. Toby was the teddy bear in the picture with Penny.

  A wall of sketches caught her attention. Penny’s portrayals of fairy tales, princesses, and butterflies were bright and colorful. Odd though that the family picture wasn’t quite so cheerful. And in it, Penny’s father was standing far away from his daughter. Could mean something, or simply that at her age, she had no perspective of distance.

  “Show me where Stan punched the wall.”

  Susan’s eyes flickered with unease again, but she led Ellie to her bedroom. The imprint of the man’s fist in the shattered sheetrock looked stark, and dots of blood spattered the plaster. Ellie scanned the room for signs indicating a struggle or fight. A broken lamp or overturned chair. But everything else appeared to be in place.

  Still, she had to press while Stan wasn’t around. “It’s just you and me now,” Ellie reminded her. “Be honest, for Penny. Has Stan ever hit you? Or his daughter?”

  Anger flashed in Susan’s eyes. “No. Stan is not abusive. Stop asking me about him and find Penny.”

  Susan ran into the bathroom, her sobs drifting through the closed door.

  Guilt nagged at Ellie for pushing the woman.

  But she had to do her job. If someone had taken the little girl, her room might hold a clue.

  Studying it again, she noted children’s puzzles, books, toys, and art supplies filling the shelves. No diary or any disturbing drawings. Collages of leaves and pressed flowers hung on another wall. Her closet held only assorted shoes and clothes.

  The main bathroom came next. Green child’s toothbrush, toothpaste, children’s Tylenol, antibiotic ointment, Band-Aids. No prescribed medications. Nothing out of the ordinary.

  Returning to the den, she glanced out the front window. Gomez and the cameraman were still there—they were broadcasting or filming a piece to camera, but at least they were keeping their distance.

  Ellie stepped out onto the back deck, looking for signs that Stan Matthews was not the loving husband and father he purported to be, or signs someone else could have hidden out back, waiting for the little girl.

  Whispers of evil rippled through the forests, trees rattling in the wind. Voices called to Ellie. A child’s. Penny crying. Begging to come home.

  That creaking swing drew her gaze once again. Only this time it wasn’t Penny she saw in it.

  It was Mae. Sandy blonde hair, ponytail soaring in the breeze as she pumped her legs. Her big eyes wide with fear.

  Ellie’s lungs strained for air. God… Mae, her imaginary friend. Her childhood therapist said she invented Mae as a substitute for the sister she’d never had.

  Medication and hypnosis had helped rid Ellie of the hallucinations and the nightmares. Finally, she’d sent Mae back to the fantasy world where she belonged.

  Why was she seeing her now? Because Penny was getting under her skin? Or because Ellie’s mother dragged up the past earlier?

  Something’s wrong with Ellie. She’s seeing things that aren’t there…

  Ellie pressed her hands over her ears to drown out the sound of her mother’s disapproving voice.

  She sure as hell couldn’t allow Mae to come back and haunt her now. Not when she had to prove her father and Bryce Waters wrong.

  Determined to stay focused, she pulled her phone from her belt and texted her captain: Get subpoena for Penny Matthews’ medical records. Let’s find out if she suffered any suspicious injuries.

  The little girl needed her to be strong.

  9.

  Decatur, Georgia

  Special Agent Derrick Fox was bone tired. Coming off a manhunt where he’d been tracking an escaped felon meant no sleep for days.

  Thankfully though, the wife-murdering bastard was on his way back to Hayes Prison, Georgia’s maximum-security facility, where he’d spend the next weeks in solitary confinement and finish out his life sentence.

  Derrick let himself inside his Decatur condo, desperate for a shower, a pizza, then a much-needed uninterrupted night’s sleep. But first he popped the lid on an IPA, carried it to his living room and flipped on the evening news. Just as he’d expected, a recap of the manhunt was playing. His boss, Supervisory Special Agent Aiden McDaniels, stood in front of the camera assuring residents in and around metro Atlanta they were once again safe.

  As safe as anyone in a big city like Atlanta could be.

  The segment ended, immediately rolling into a breaking story in north Georgia.

  Derrick’s gut tightened. Just the mere mention of those mountains stirred bad memories and ghosts from his past.

  “A seven-year-old little girl, Penny Matthews, disappeared in Bluff County between Stony Gap and Crooked Creek today around one o’clock,” reporter Angelica Gomez said. “Her parents say they were enjoying a family picnic and had been fishing when the little girl wandered off. After an initial search of the area, they called for help. Local law enforcement and search and rescue teams have been combing the area ever since.”

  A photograph of a smiling, gap-toothed little blonde-haired girl appeared on the screen clutching a
pink blanket and a yellow teddy bear to her. “Penny was last seen wearing black leggings, a pink t-shirt with a unicorn on the front and neon pink sneakers. Police are asking anyone with information regarding the missing child to please call law enforcement.” The numbers for Bluff County sheriff’s office and the Crooked Creek police department flashed on the screen.

  Derrick sat stone still. His head swam with memories of his own sister disappearing on that trail. Precious Kim, who liked jumping rope and playing hopscotch. Kim, the hula hoop champion in first grade. Kim, who’d just lost her first tooth and broke her toe when she’d kicked a bully at school. Kim, who’d set up a lemonade stand to raise money for the animal rescue shelter.

  Kim, who he was supposed to be watching the day she disappeared. Instead, he’d told her to sit on a rock while he waded in the creek. He’d been so engrossed in trying to catch a fish with his bare hands he hadn’t realized she’d wandered off.

  Vanished without a trace.

  She’d never been found.

  It was all his fault. He should never have taken his eyes off her.

  Concern welled in him as he thought about Penny Matthews. The reporter had mentioned Bluff County. Kim had disappeared near the same area.

  His IPA forgotten, he strode to the wall-length whiteboard in his home office. Perspiration beaded his neck as he studied the photographs and the map tacked on the board.

  Photographs of more than a dozen other little girls who’d disappeared along the numerous towns and states from north Georgia to Maine. All the families had similar stories. All suffering, laden with guilt, what ifs and horrific images of what might have happened to their precious daughters. Some hanging onto embers of hope that their loved one was still alive. Embers of hope that dwindled as each day passed with no answers.

  He’d been tracking the disappearances for the last ten years.

  There was a pattern. At least he thought there was. Only he had no proof. No clear profile of the killer or suspect, or where or when they might strike again.