by Rita Herron
If there was any truth to her father’s suspicions, Derrick wouldn’t be here now driving this investigation, would he?
Derrick seemed adamant that a serial predator had taken Kim, that she was his very first victim. If that was true, Kim couldn’t still be alive.
So, what had the killer done with her body? And with the other children’s?
28.
Ellie thumped her fingers on the table as Derrick reentered the conference room. “You mentioned discrepancies?”
“In some of the statements,” Derrick pointed out. “According to your father’s notes, our neighbor Ned Hanline claims he saw Dad spanking Kim. But my father never laid a hand on us. Ever. And when I questioned Hanline, he denied making that statement.” Derrick rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “Also, my mother’s assistant supposedly said Mom mentioned marital problems. Tammy insists that statement was false, that she told your father my parents were happy.”
Ellie frowned. That didn’t make sense.
“What bothered me most is a conversation one of his deputies had with a youth group camping nearby,” Derrick continued. “One of the boys claimed he saw a little girl with another teenage boy about a mile from our camp. The girl looked lost and was crying, but the bigger boy dragged her along. At the time, the kid thought they were brother and sister, but when he heard about Kim, he thought he might have been wrong.” Derrick hesitated. “But your father didn’t release that information. Instead, he focused on my dad.”
“Have you spoken with the teens in that youth group?”
Derrick shook his head. “No. Their contact information wasn’t taken down properly.”
Ellie flattened her hands on the table. “I’m sure that was just an oversight.” Although at the very least, he should have followed up with the group.
There had to be an explanation.
She stood, collected the notes and handed them back to Derrick.
His jaw tightened. “You’re not even going to consider that I’m right? How can you dismiss the evidence in front of you?”
“I’m not dismissing it.” Ellie gestured toward the door. “We’re going to have a talk with my father.”
Surprise flashed on his face, followed by a look of relief.
She thought her father might be in the woods searching for Penny, so she texted him and asked where they could meet.
He replied straight away: Home now. Come on over.
Hurrying into her office, she snagged her jacket and keys. Derrick followed, a gust of wind rocking the traffic light in the center of town as they stepped outside. As predicted, the rain had turned to a light sleet, pinging off the store roofs and sidewalks, the skies ominous and dreary.
She pointed to her Jeep. “I’ll drive.”
Derrick climbed in the passenger side without comment. Bryce Waters for Sheriff signs were dotted around as they drove through town, each boasting a picture of Bryce’s smiling face.
Nausea threatened, but she tamped it down. Bryce was the least of her worries right now.
The Jeep hit an icy patch, causing her to skid slightly as she turned onto the road leading to her parents’ house. Just yesterday, she’d driven this same way with high hopes for her father’s announcement.
Today she was heading there with a knot in the pit of her stomach and accusations screaming in her head. A little girl had been missing now for twenty-four hours. Another little girl had gone missing twenty-five years ago in a similar manner, and her father had failed to mention it.
If Derrick Fox had made a connection between the two, why the hell hadn’t her father?
29.
Stony Gap
The blustery wind tossed debris across her parents’ lawn as Ellie threw the Jeep into park. The cold made her skin tingle. A loose shutter flapped, and sleet slashed the windows. Wet earth sucked at her boots as she climbed from the vehicle and the bitter breeze blasted her in the face. It was too cold for Penny to be exposed in the elements. Hypothermia was far more dangerous than the wild animals on the trail.
Derrick stuffed his hands in the pockets of his coat and followed her up to the door, his eyes scanning the property as they made their way up the porch steps.
Ellie’s mother was just coming down the staircase when Ellie stepped inside.
“Honey, I’m glad you decided to drop by.”
Ellie gestured to Derrick, who’d paused behind her. “This is about the case, Mom. I texted Dad.”
Disappointment flitted in her mother’s hazel eyes. “All right then. But he’s tired. He was out all night trying to find that child.”
Ellie brushed past her. “That’s the reason I’m here. This is Special Agent Derrick Fox. He may have insight into the case.”
Her mother’s face paled slightly, then she stepped aside, and Ellie led Derrick into her father’s study.
Like so many times before, he stood in front of one of his maps, studying it as if it held the answers to the world. Maybe it did.
Maybe it could tell them where Penny Matthews was.
He turned at the sound of their footsteps, then his breath hitched when he saw them.
30.
Derrick had been waiting for this day for a long time.
He should have come to see Sheriff Reeves sooner. But his theory had been shot down so many times when he’d spoken with local law enforcement on the other cases, and Randall’s quick dismissal over the phone had held him back. He’d wanted concrete evidence to connect them all before proceeding.
They didn’t bother with pleasantries. He wasn’t in a cordial mood.
“Dad,” Ellie said. “You remember Derrick Fox?”
“Of course.” The sheriff gestured toward the two wing chairs facing his desk. “Remind me which agency you’re working with now.”
“The FBI.”
Sheriff Reeves exhaled. “I didn’t realize you’d brought in the feds, Ellie.”
“Actually, she didn’t call me, sir. I came on my own.” Derrick set the folder containing duplicate photographs of the girls and his notes on the desk. “Ten years ago, when I joined the Bureau, I reviewed my sister’s case. I hoped to find some new evidence or something you’d missed that might help me learn what happened to her.”
The sheriff crossed his arms. “Did you?”
“I found discrepancies in your notes. Statements that contradict each other. I also searched for other similar cases, and as I stated when I tried to discuss my theory with you before, I found some.”
Irritation snapped in Randall Reeves eyes. “Go on.”
Derrick opened the folder and spread the pictures across the sheriff’s desk. “All of these girls are between the ages of five and seven. All disappeared somewhere along the AT.”
Randall sank into his desk chair and thumbed through the pictures, his throat muscles working as he swallowed.
Derrick studied the man’s reaction. Not surprise. Not recognition. Confusion? Wariness?
Finally, the sheriff lifted his head, a frown marring his face. “None of these cases have been solved?”
Derrick shook his head. “Local law enforcement investigated, but as in my sister’s disappearance, they cleared the parents, never pinned the crime on anyone, never found the girls, and the cases went cold.”
“And you believe they’re connected,” Sheriff Reeves said. Not a question, but an observation.
“I do. And I think Penny Matthews may be another victim.”
Ellie’s father rustled through the notes again, a vein throbbing in his neck as he skimmed the information. Ellie sighed. “Dad, missing children’s cases make national news. Didn’t you see the news about any of these girls and wonder if they were taken by the same person?”
The sheriff’s look turned to annoyance. “Of course. I even talked with a few of the investigators. But no one saw a connection. The families weren’t related, the girls disappeared in several jurisdictions and there was no consistency with the timing.” He aimed his look at Derrick. “Wh
y would a perpetrator kidnap one child and then wait another year before taking another?”
31.
“I asked the same question,” Ellie said. “But there could be reasons. Maybe there are more victims that we don’t know about. Or he was incarcerated, or something happened in his life to make him stop for a while, then he started up again.”
Her father’s expression flattened. “If the same person abducted each of these girls and kept them hostage, someone would have seen him with one of them by now.”
“Not if he lives in isolation or off the grid,” Derrick pointed out.
Or if he killed them and left their bodies somewhere they wouldn’t be found. Ellie’s stomach churned.
“I have two agents working this angle, specifically looking at human trafficking rings, which is probably the likeliest link. But some small towns have antiquated systems and others fail to report in a timely manner. Others lost reports, one office had a natural disaster that destroyed all their files, and a couple of families refused to cooperate. They’d had enough of being treated like suspects.”
“So, the alleged abductions occurred in different jurisdictions and with no time pattern. Have you at least found a potential person of interest who was in all those places? Either someone acting alone or with links to an organized ring?” Randall asked.
Derrick shifted, as if he had an idea but didn’t want to say. “None that could have been in every single location.”
Ellie twisted her mouth in thought. “Perhaps one of the crimes was personal, and the killer took the other girls to throw off the investigation.”
“That might happen with one or two, but it would be far-fetched to kidnap a string of girls to cover the abduction or murder of one,” Randall said matter-of-factly. “An organized crime ring is more probable. If it’s an individual, he’d likely have been in his twenties or thirties when the first girl disappeared—that’s when most serial killers start their sprees. Although some start in their teens.” He shot Derrick a challenging stare.
A muscle ticked in Derrick’s jaw. “I’m here because I know I didn’t hurt my sister, and I want justice.”
“Which raises the question about that youth group your team talked to when Kim disappeared, Dad,” Ellie interjected. “Why didn’t you track down their contact information and follow up?”
Randall’s lips thinned. “There was no need. The boys had nothing to do with Kim’s disappearance.” He aimed a questioning look toward Derrick. “Have you shared this theory with your father?”
A coldness washed over Derrick’s face. “My father killed himself nine months after you closed Kim’s case.”
Ellie sucked in a breath.
But her father showed no reaction. “Are you certain he’s dead? I heard his body was never found.”
Derrick clenched his hands into fists. “It wasn’t, but he left a suicide note.”
“In that note, he said he couldn’t live with the guilt, didn’t he?” Ellie’s father asked.
“You knew?” Surprise and anger hardened Derrick’s voice.
“I did. A serial killer’s first victim is usually significant. Since you’re tossing around the theory that the same person abducted all these little girls, and that it started with your sister, maybe you need to ask yourself if that person could be your father.”
32.
Ellie stared at her father for a heated moment as Derrick stalked from the room.
At the sound of the front door slamming behind him, she folded her arms, torn between trusting her father and questioning him. Derrick seemed so convinced Randall had messed up. “Do you really think Derrick’s father did something to Kim?”
The vein in his neck throbbed the way it always did when he was angry. “I never found proof, but as you know, I had to interrogate him. His suicide made me wonder if he took his own life out of guilt.”
Ellie wasn’t quite ready to believe her father’s theory. “At the time of his suicide, did you look into the possibility that he could have faked his death?”
Her father shook his head. “Not then. But Derrick is the one connecting the cases. I simply pointed out one possibility. Derrick blamed himself back then. He could have accidentally hurt his sister, then the family covered it up.”
Ellie didn’t want to believe that either, although what did she really know about Derrick Fox? She’d read about cases where a cop or rescue worker was actually the perpetrator. “If that was true, why would he bring attention to the other missing girls?”
“If you knew anything about serial killers, sometimes they escalate because deep down they want to get caught.”
His condescending tone irked her. She didn’t see Derrick as a killer.
And she’d never seen her father so unsympathetic toward a victim’s family. To hell with his suspicions. She didn’t understand anything her father had done lately. He was becoming more and more of a stranger.
Her phone buzzed on her hip. The captain. “I have to take this.”
“I’m going to join the search teams.” Her father reached for his keys, anger radiating off him in the stiff set of his shoulders.
On her way out, Ellie nearly ran into her mother, realizing she’d been listening to their conversation.
Ignoring her disapproving look, Ellie answered the phone and stepped outside.
“Tell me you’ve got something,” Captain Hale barked.
Fox was already in the Jeep, so she stayed sheltered from the worst of the stinging rain on the porch. She needed to talk to the captain alone.
“Ellie?” he snapped.
“I’m here. And… yeah, I may have something.” She explained about Derrick showing up and his theory.
“Son of a bitch,” Captain Hale muttered. “We can’t have a serial killer in our county.”
“I hope not,” Ellie said. “But I’ve seen the files, and he could be right. Which means Stan Matthews is innocent.”
A tense silence passed, the captain’s breathing filling the awkward quiet.
“Work the angle,” he said in a commanding tone. “And by the way, not sure if it’s the same couple Matthews saw, but a man and woman checked in two days ago at the Crooked Creek Inn and left yesterday. I ran their tag and got a pop at a Quick Mart near Dahlonega. Local deputy said the couple claim they saw a man with a little girl that could have been Penny.”
Ellie headed toward her Jeep, where Derrick sat looking into the mountains. “Where was that?”
“Near Rattlesnake Ridge.”
Gray tornado-looking clouds moved across the sky, and sleet was starting to fall, slivers of ice hammering down.
They had to hurry. They needed to find Penny before Tempest unleashed the worst of her fury.
“And Ellie,” Captain Hale said. “I think you’re right about Matthews. The officer showed the couple a picture of the father. The man they saw with the little girl was not him.”
“Did they describe him?”
“They didn’t see his face. Said he was tall, dragged one leg slightly, wore an old tattered coat, gloves and a ski cap.”
She needed more. “I’m on my way.”
It looked like Derrick was right. A serial killer might be stalking the AT right in her own backyard.
33.
Somewhere on the AT
Penny scooted as far away from the doorway of the cave as she could. But the space was so tiny and dark she couldn’t see very far.
Goosebumps skated up her arms. It smelled bad in here, like rotten bananas when they turned brown and slimy and the fruit flies swarmed around them.
The ground was hard and damp. And the sharp edge of the rocks jabbed at her back.
She clutched the little wooden doll in one hand and hugged it to her. He’d carved it just for her, he’d said. A treasure she could add to her other dolls. Only she didn’t have many dolls, mostly rocks and stones and things she found outside.
But she had thought it was cool when he said he’d made the doll out of wood from a
fallen tree. Stuck here in the black hole, she wanted to trade it for Toby, her yellow squishy teddy bear with the soft fur and fluffy ears. When she whispered her secrets to Toby, he listened. And sometimes he whispered back.
But this doll said nothing. It just stared up at her with its hollow empty eyes.
She’d been a bad girl. She had wandered off from the picnic site. Had been mad at her daddy because he didn’t want to play with her.
So she’d snuck off on her own. That was stupid.
Where was Mama now? Was she awake? Would she come looking for her?
The sound of water trickling down the rocky wall echoed nearby. Something skittered across her arm. A spider? Rat?
Tears filled her eyes. But she blinked them back. She couldn’t let him see she was scared. Then he’d get mad like before. She didn’t like it when he was mad. His eyes got big and scary like the monsters that peered at her from her closet at night.
The grating sound of his knife against the wood made her shiver. She pictured the knife piercing her skin. Blood dripping down. Red on the floor. Dots and dots of it like paint splattering.
A cry lodged in her throat.
Don’t be a crybaby, he’d said.
Pressing her fist to her mouth, she pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. She tried to remember what had happened. She’d stumbled, twisted her ankle. Her foot slid over the edge. She was falling. Dropping further and further. But then he’d jerked her up and saved her.
He’d said she had to learn a lesson. Had to be punished.
She’d been punished before, and she didn’t like it. Not one bit.
She closed her eyes and tried to think happy thoughts like Mama taught her to when Daddy was in one of his moods. In her mind, she felt Mama’s hand stroking her hair. Wiping away her tears. Singing softly a silly song she made up about chasing puppies in the backyard.
