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

by Rita Herron

  Rocking herself back and forth, she tried to think of sunshine and rainbows and unicorns, but she couldn’t see them in the dark. She wanted to go home to Mama. Feel her arms around her. Sniff the strawberry bodywash she used when she took her bath.

  Her body shook as the tears spilled over. She tried to hold back a sob, but it screeched from her throat and came out like a balloon popping.

  The knife went still. He stopped carving. He was listening.

  She buried her head in her arms and squeezed her eyes shut. But she heard his footsteps and knew he was coming for her.

  34.

  Crooked Creek

  “What’s wrong?” Derrick asked once he and Ellie were back on the road. Wind banged Bryce’s campaign signs back and forth. Posters with Penny’s picture on them covered the store fronts and light posts, although the wind tore at them, ripping one into shreds and tossing it across the ground.

  Others advertised the upcoming Cornbread Festival. Even with the storm threatening, vendors were erecting booths and some tourists remained, wandering the quaint stores, hunched in their coats and hats, faces shielded by thick wool scarves.

  Ellie relayed her conversation with her boss.

  “I’ll tell Cord to direct the search toward Rattlesnake Ridge. I can drop you at your car.”

  “No, I’m going with you.”

  “Are you sure about that? A city boy like you might have a hard time on the trail.”

  His eyebrow rose, eyes flashing with irritation, and she almost smiled. “Don’t worry about me,” he said darkly. “I’ll keep up.”

  “Your call,” she said with a shrug. She gestured toward his dress slacks and shoes. “Do you have hiking boots or winter gear with you?”

  He frowned. “Yeah, I have boots, insulated pants, gloves and a jacket in my car.”

  “Then we’ll swing by and get them. I’ll grab us something to eat while you change.”

  Her phone buzzed—Deputy Landrum. “What’s up, Heath?”

  “I ran down Pauline Shore. She confirms Stan Matthews’ story about the one-night stand. In fact, she moved to Atlanta a couple of weeks after they hooked up.”

  “So that eliminates her, and Stan’s motive of wanting to leave his wife.”

  “Yeah, and I can’t find anything on Zimmerman to point to him. In fact, he was coaching a little league game when Penny went missing. And everyone I talked to said he had an exemplary record.”

  Now Derrick had arrived, Ellie felt safe dismissing Zimmerman as well.

  “What now?” Heath asked.

  She explained the information Derrick had presented. “Right now, it’s just a theory, Heath. So keep it between us.”

  “Copy that. And let me know what else I can do.”

  She murmured she would, then ended the call. Ten minutes later, she parked at the station and Derrick retrieved his duffel bag from the trunk of his vehicle. After he quickly changed inside the building and she grabbed them sandwiches, they got back on the road, the thick gray clouds overhead threatening more ice and snow, trees shivering, the wind howling. Ellie drove north, about fifteen miles from the park where the Matthews had picnicked. When they’d arrived, she radioed Cord, who said he’d meet them at the ridge with Wilson, the SAR dog he worked with.

  She retrieved her backpack, which held a sleeping bag, extra compass, her own hand-drawn maps of various sections of the trail, flashlights and other necessary supplies. Then she and Derrick donned jackets, ski hats, and gloves, and she yanked on her hiking boots.

  Derrick looked somber as he scanned the mountains ahead. She guessed he was reliving the trauma of losing his sister in the hills.

  The memory of her own ordeal flashed back, making her break out in a sweat. One night alone in the woods had traumatized her. What would it do to Penny?

  Derrick’s gruff voice interrupted her thoughts. “Which way?”

  “Northeast,” she said, then gestured toward the trail. “Rattlesnake Ridge is about six miles from here.”

  Wind gusts whipped through the trees, gaining momentum, the temperature dropping by the hour. “Let’s go.”

  She took the lead, the two of them weaving through the overgrown brush and endless trees. Even though it was only mid-afternoon, daylight was waning, the dark clouds casting shadows and robbing what little sunlight remained. The fragrance of southern balsam and Fraser fir filled the air, a reminder of the holiday that had passed, when her family had gathered to celebrate, and she’d been hopeful about her future at the sheriff’s office.

  Though Ellie was no botanist, her father had taught her enough to avoid the thick patches of poison ivy growing in the woods and along the riverbank, where the water rippled and gurgled, slashing the jagged rocks that led to the falls.

  Ellie used the makeshift bridge someone had erected across the water where it overflowed the bank, then veered around a cluster of hemlocks and froze. For a second, she thought she saw a wisp of a child peering from behind the rocks ahead.

  Blonde hair like Penny’s.

  Big blue eyes, tormented-looking as they peered at her through the foliage.

  Mae.

  Her stomach clenched, and she blinked away the image. But the sound of Mae’s cry lingered in her head.

  “Ellie?”

  Derrick’s deep voice jerked her attention back to the present, and she sucked in a sharp breath.

  “What’s wrong?” Derrick asked.

  “I… thought I saw something, but it was nothing,” she said, grateful her voice sounded steady when her heart was pounding.

  Was she starting to hallucinate again?

  God, no. It was just this case. It was getting to her. Making her see ghosts.

  She gestured toward a thicket ahead. “Come on, let’s keep moving.” One foot in front of the other, they maneuvered their way up the steep hill toward the ridge. Tree roots, vines, brush and broken limbs impeded their trek, and they hiked without talking.

  Tension thickened between them as the chill in the air intensified, dead brown leaves raining down on them, mingling with the icy precipitation. She wanted to reach the ridge and find Penny before the snow started falling and blurred her vision. Wind beat at her, and her boots sank into the wet moss and mud. She pushed through the thicket, scanning every turn for signs of Penny or footprints indicating where the man had taken her.

  After several miles, night descended, the lone howl of a wolf shattering the deafening silence. The acrid scent of decay led them to a dead deer and a campfire that had been snuffed out. Using her flashlight, she searched for footprints, a man’s or child’s, but if they’d come this way, the rain of the last twenty-four hours had obscured the tracks.

  Rattlesnake Ridge stood tall and ominous, with a steep drop of over eighty feet, and was known to be a hotbed of snakes. When they reached it, they divided to search the surrounding area.

  No AT shelter here, but Ellie discovered a small cave.

  Branches had been piled in front of the opening. She quickly began to pull them aside. Somewhere in the distance a coyote howled. Thunder clapped. Rain beat down like drums, mingling with pellets of ice.

  Yanking away the limbs, Ellie aimed her flashlight into the dark opening and was assaulted with the strong smell of something rotten.

  Heart pounding, she stooped down and peered inside. But an icy fear immobilized her.

  Terrifying memories of crawling into a dark hole when she was little paralyzed her. A tunnel. Like the one in her nightmare. She’d thought it led… where? Dammit, she couldn’t remember.

  Help me.

  A child’s cry whispered to her in the darkness.

  “I’ll go,” Derrick said, as if he sensed her resistance.

  Cold sweat beaded the back of her neck. Her stomach lurched. Nausea rose to her throat.

  She had to fight it. Save Penny.

  Summoning her courage, she called Penny’s name and crawled into the dank, black interior.

  35.

  Rattlesnake Ri
dge

  Halfway into the cavernous opening, Ellie suddenly felt a viselike grip around her neck.

  She hoped she’d outgrow her fear of the dark, but her phobia lingered, the suffocating sensation wrapping its tentacles around her throat and squeezing hard, cutting into her windpipe.

  Stop it, don’t be a baby. Penny might be in here. She needs you.

  Forcing herself to breathe through her nose, she closed her eyes and meditated for several seconds. Think of your safe place, the therapist had taught her. The treehouse daddy had built for her. It was nestled between the oaks, high above ground so she could see across the backyard. High enough the wild animals couldn’t reach her if they roamed on the property from the woods beyond. Foxy was there, too, cuddled in her arms, listening as she whispered secrets in his ears.

  Then she was tucked in her iron bed with her grammy’s quilt covering her, snuggling her just like Grammy’s arms used to do before she died. So many times, she’d watched her plump body bent over the scraps of fabric squares, nimble hands shifting and arranging the different prints into a beautiful design like pieces of a puzzle.

  Slowly the terror subsided, and she opened her eyes and released a calming breath. “Penny, are you in here?”

  Dead silence met her call.

  The musty scent of damp earth, moss and decay filled her nostrils as she belly-crawled a few feet in. One inch at a time. Find Penny. That’s all that matters.

  Finally, the ceiling of the cave grew taller, the opening wider, and she pushed up on her hands and knees, then stood. Her head almost brushed the ceiling, but at least there was more air.

  “Penny, are you here, honey?” She scanned the interior of the space and saw footprints ahead. A man’s. Adrenaline churning through her, she hurried forward, examining the floor for a button or garment, an indication Penny had been inside.

  More prints lay ahead, and she moved toward them, discovering a set of smaller ones. Definitely a man and a child.

  Penny and whoever had taken her had been here.

  Scrambling ahead, she followed the tunnel as it wound into a small clearing. Water trickled down the interior wall, pooling on the ground. Damp moss dotted the rock. Slimy mud collected on her boots.

  But no one was inside.

  Still, someone had been here. She scanned the widest section, and her flashlight beam fell on something in the dirt.

  Pulse pounding, she crossed to it and illuminated the rocky floor. It was a small piece of wood. With gloved hands, she dislodged it from where it was half-buried in the dirt and held it up to the light.

  It was smooth, hand-carved, carefully crafted. A tiny wooden doll like something a child would play with.

  Déjà vu struck her, and for a second, the world turned black and tilted. She felt dizzy again. Her vision blurred. The doll with the little round head and thin arms and big eyes carved deep into the wood… it seemed familiar, as if she’d seen a figure like this before.

  She shook her head, but she couldn’t place where she might have seen it.

  Susan hadn’t mentioned that her daughter had a doll with her, had she? Was it Penny’s? Or something her abductor had given to her?

  Knowing it needed to be analyzed, she removed a baggie from her pocket and stowed the toy inside to send to the lab. If they found prints matching Penny’s, she’d know the little girl had been here. And if her abductor had given it to her, they might lift his prints, too.

  Hope fueled her. Maybe they were getting close.

  She searched the area again and noticed a section of leaves piled together. They looked crushed, as if someone had used them as a pillow.

  After snapping a photograph of the pile, she crawled back through the tunnel, holding her breath the whole way. The sound of the wind whistling assaulted her as she pushed through the opening, and sleet pelted her, stinging her cheeks.

  Gripping the doll, she stood and brushed dirt and debris from her pants. “Derrick, where are you?”

  “Over here!”

  When he broke through the clearing, his dark gaze latched onto hers.

  “Did you find anything outside?” Ellie asked.

  He shook his head. “Some broken tree limbs a few feet ahead. Footprints, but they disappeared into the creek.” He glanced at the cave opening. “What’s that?”

  “A hand-carved wooden doll I found in the cave. I think Penny and her kidnapper were here.”

  Hope flickered across his face. “So, she might still be alive.”

  Ellie nodded hopefully, then texted to request an ERT to the cave pronto. Her phone buzzed just as she sent the message.

  Cord. She punched connect and put it on speaker.

  “Ellie, you need to get over here.”

  Ellie’s heart thundered. “What’s wrong?”

  A tense heartbeat passed, then Cord’s deep baritone voice filled the silence. “I found something. It looks like a grave. A small one.”

  Fear pulsed through Ellie. Derrick staggered slightly, his face ashen.

  They both began to run toward the river.

  36.

  Falling leaves mixed with the sleet as the wind gusts picked up. Ellie spotted Cord stooped beside a mound of dirt a few feet from the water’s edge.

  As she and Derrick approached, her pulse quickened at the sight of a wooden cross and oval river rock.

  Grim-faced, his flashlight in his hand, Cord gestured toward the freshly turned ground. “I almost stumbled over it.”

  Ellie swallowed hard, using her own torch to illuminate the area. Fresh leaves and wildflowers covered the dirt, as if whoever dug this grave had cared about the person who’d died.

  The length and width of the mound was the size of a large animal. Or a child, she thought grimly.

  Was it Penny? Had her father hurt her accidentally and then buried her, spreading flowers on her grave because he loved her? Or was her disappearance related to the other missing girls?

  “This is Special Agent Derrick Fox from the FBI,” Ellie said. “Derrick, Ranger Cord McClain has been leading the teams searching for Penny Matthews.”

  The men exchanged a short hello.

  Ellie noticed Derrick narrowing his eyes at Cord, his body going rigid. “How did you say you found the grave?”

  Cord patted the SAR dog, who stood guard by the stone. “Wilson led me here.”

  “Wilson is an air scent dog,” Ellie explained. “If he picked up Penny’s scent, she might be in that grave.”

  “I didn’t see a child’s footprints,” Cord said. “There was a partial man’s boot print by the river, but whoever it was brushed over the rest of the prints to cover his tracks.” His sleeve rode up and she noticed a bandage on his arm—a hazard of the job. He was always covered in them.

  Emotions crowded Ellie’s chest. A little girl’s footprints had been inside the cave. Which meant Penny might have been carried here. Had the kidnapper killed her in the cave, then brought her body out here to bury her? Why not leave her in the cave where she might not have been found? The thoughts swirled in her head.

  “I’ll call another Evidence Recovery Team and the ME.” Ellie pulled her phone and made the call.

  When she hung up, she began to snap pictures of the scene, searching for forensics to help identity the person who’d dug the grave.

  Derrick knelt and studied the small mound with a reverent expression. Then he aimed a dark look at Cord, making Ellie wonder what exactly he was thinking. “This was dug within the last few hours. The flowers are still fresh.”

  “Matthews?” Cord asked. “But he was with the search teams this morning, then we sent him home.”

  Ellie frowned and filled him in on her conversation with her captain. “We think Penny was abducted.”

  Cord’s smoky eyes narrowed to slits. “Abducted?”

  “Yes. And there may be others,” Ellie said, the truth sinking in.

  “Look at this.” Derrick pointed to markings on the stone, and Ellie lowered herself to study them. They w
ere crude, scratched into the shape of an angel.

  She snapped a photo of it, then leaned closer to analyze the details.

  “That’s the Roman numeral one on the cross,” she murmured beneath her breath. Her gaze jerked to Derrick’s.

  “A one for his first victim,” Derrick said in a husky tone.

  Their gazes locked. Ellie swallowed hard. “A one, as in there are more.”

  37.

  Derrick struggled not to react to the sight of the small grave. Or to the unbidden image of his sister being buried here.

  Files from the cases where Cord was mentioned teased his mind. From those, he’d been compiling a profile of the killer. And the ranger fit.

  He was tempted to jerk Cord by the collar and demand to know if he’d put the body here.

  But first he had to gather the facts.

  Find out if Kim was in that grave. His mother had kept her pictures all over the house. She’d left his sister’s room exactly the same as when Kim had been alive. Her white four-poster bed still held the pale green comforter with the yellow tulips on it. Shelves still housed her favorite dolls, stuffed animals, and the books she’d read over and over until she’d memorized them. Kim had liked to bake with her mother, but she’d also enjoyed kicking the soccer ball with their father.

  She would have liked Ellie. She was feminine, but comfortable in the outdoors, and seemed like a woman who didn’t back down from a fight.

  Would Ellie cover for Randall if he’d screwed up? Or Cord?

  The ranger had been mentioned in more than one police report in the missing girls’ files. He could slip through the woods virtually unnoticed. He also knew the area. And he’d been first on scene to search for Penny.

  Was it a coincidence that he’d been on duty in more than one of the disappearances?

  The Roman numeral on the marker made Derrick’s stomach clench but fit with his theory.