by Rita Herron
Dr. Wright shook her head sadly as Ellie said goodbye.
Her father’s watch still weighed heavily in her coat pocket as she ducked through falling snow to her Jeep. The flakes clung to her clothes and eyelashes. As she started the engine and exited the parking lot, she prayed Derrick was wrong about her father.
The streets were slick with pockets of black ice, slowing her as she drove toward her parent’s house. Snow fell in a thick sheet, and signs advertising the postponement of the Cornbread Festival had been tacked all over town.
Pictures of the two missing girls hung everywhere, mingling with haunting images of the graves in her mind. The unsub had definitely escalated. Did taking Chrissy mean he’d already killed Penny?
The farmhouse loomed ahead, covered in snow, icicles clinging to the tree branches and porch. The picturesque mountains stood behind it, mountains that she’d loved most of her life. Except when they’d terrified her as a child.
Knowing they hid a monster now made them eerier than ever.
Even the house looked less welcoming, sinister, with more ominous winter clouds rolling across the already gray sky.
Ellie parked, trudging through foot deep snow until she reached the brick-paved path. Her father had shoveled it, but still she had to dodge slick patches, and hang onto the handrail to keep from falling as she climbed the porch steps. After kicking snow and slush from her boots on the doormat, she rapped on the door then twisted the knob.
“Mom? Dad?”
The warmth of the furnace inside and sound of the fire crackling from the family room should have felt inviting, but today she sensed a frigid cold inside. “Mom? Dad?” She called her parents’ names as she made her way by the staircase. Her father’s boots pounded on the wood floors as he walked down the steps.
“Ellie, I didn’t know you were stopping by.”
“We have to talk.”
He joined her at the landing. “I assume you know about the second missing child. Did you find Penny?”
She shook her head. “Let’s go into your study.”
A frown crinkled his brows, but then he led the way to his office. Typically, he kept his desk neat, aside from the stacks of maps everywhere. But today papers were scattered around, the drawer holding his files was open, and several folders were spread across the oak credenza. The painted paperweight she’d made him out of a river rock sat by his coffee cup, making her heart squeeze.
Three maps lay open on the coffee table in the seating nook, their edges crinkled. An odd look flickered in his eyes, and he quickly swept the folders into a stack and jammed them back in the file drawer.
The hair on the back of her neck prickled. Was he trying to hide them from her?
“Bryce is a loose cannon,” she said without preamble. “I told you I could handle the press.”
“He’s just doing his job,” her father said. “You weren’t around last night when Chrissy disappeared, and he was.”
“He told Angelica about the wooden dolls we found, Dad.” Ellie didn’t hide the disdain from her tone.
“They were bound to find out.”
“But that was an important detail I wanted to hold back, in case we get a confession.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll talk to him.”
“It’s too late now,” she snapped. “The damage is done.”
Her father averted his eyes and sank into his desk chair, a wariness emanating from him that Ellie had never seen before.
“We located five graves,” she said, deciding to cut straight to the chase. “We think Kim Fox’s remains are among them.” She explained to him about the gravestones and the etchings, and Dr. Wright’s autopsy.
“You think the killer is burying the bodies?”
“I don’t know. Could be someone else discovered the remains and buried them so we’d find them,” Ellie said.
Hand trembling, she pulled the pocket watch from her coat. “Dad, I also found your watch by the grave at Bloody Rock.” Her breath stalled in her chest.
An angry hiss punctuated the air behind her, and Ellie turned to see Derrick standing in the doorway. Her mother rushed up beside him.
Damn. She hadn’t heard him come in.
He shot Ellie an accusatory glare. “You found evidence at the grave and hid it from me?”
Ellie opened her mouth to defend herself, but Derrick strode to the desk, and slapped his palms on the wooden surface.
“I knew you did a shoddy investigation,” Derrick snarled. “Now I know the reason.”
Ellie touched his arm, but he jerked away.
“I just got word from forensics, Sheriff Reeves,” he spat. “Your DNA was on the pocketknife found near where Penny Matthews disappeared.”
Ellie gasped. First the pocket watch, now her father’s DNA.
“You son of a bitch,” Derrick said. “You accused my father and me of hurting my sister, but it was you, wasn’t it? You act like some hero, but you killed her. You’ve been murdering innocent little girls for twenty-five years and no one suspected you.”
70.
Disbelief immobilized Ellie. She expected her father to protest, but guilt streaked his eyes.
“Have you been covering for him, Ellie?” Derrick’s tone was as brittle as the wind outside. “Is that what last night was all about?”
His accusation sent a bolt of fury through her. She shot him a look of contempt but didn’t bother to respond. Sleeping with him was the least of her worries.
Her father couldn’t be a killer. He was the town hero. Her hero. Despite everything, he wasn’t a monster.
“Dad, say something,” she said in a shaky voice.
“No, Randall.” Her mother stepped into the room, a pistol clutched in her hand, at odds with her silk blouse and pearls. She didn’t realize her mother even knew how to handle a gun. “There’s nothing to say,” she hissed at Ellie.
Ellie gaped at her. “Mom, what are you doing?”
“Protecting my family,” her mother said. “I know you think I’m weak and silly, Ellie. You always have. But I’m not. I’ve always done what’s best for our family, and I will until the day I die.”
Ellie shook her head in denial. “Put down the gun, Mom. If Dad wants to explain, then let him.” Please, dear God, let there be an explanation. One where her father wasn’t a child killer.
Randall stood and walked over to Ellie’s mother, his expression calm but resigned. “Let me have the gun, Vera. It’s over.”
Ellie stilled, waiting, hoping her father would deny his connection to the missing girls. But he didn’t. “Vera, let me handle this.” He angled his head toward Ellie. “Your mother had nothing to do with this. It’s all on me. My choices.”
“Stop it, Randall,” Vera hissed.
He covered her shaky hand with his. Derrick stood ramrod still, but Ellie sensed that given an opening, he’d pull his gun and shoot her father. Maybe her mother, too, if she didn’t back down.
“Please, Mom,” Ellie pleaded. “I don’t want anyone else to get hurt. Lower the weapon.”
Susan Matthews was suffering. So was Mrs. Larkin. And Derrick’s mother.
Penny and Chrissy must be terrified. If they were still alive.
If her father was a killer, even though her instincts screamed no, she couldn’t allow him to keep hunting children.
Her father rubbed her mother’s back with one hand, eased the gun from her fingers and placed it on the credenza.
Ellie cleared her throat. “Where are Penny and Chrissy, Dad? Are they still alive?”
“El, I’m sorry,” her father said in a pained tone. “This is all a mistake.”
Outrage sharpened Derrick’s tone. “A mistake? You call killing a dozen children a mistake?”
Her mother stepped toward her, eyes imploring her to listen. “Your father… he’s protecting you, protecting me, Ellie, you can’t arrest him. He—”
“Be quiet, Vera,” Ellie’s father growled. “I should have come clean a lo
ng time ago.”
“Then you admit it?” Derrick barked.
“He’s not confessing to anything,” Ellie’s mother cried. “And you can’t arrest him. This town loves Randall.”
“Because they don’t know the truth about what a monster he is,” Derrick said through clenched teeth.
Vera turned to Ellie. “We have to protect the family, honey. Everything we did, we did for you.” She suddenly lunged toward the gun.
The crazed expression in her mother’s eyes sent a bolt of panic through Ellie. Vera was going to shoot Derrick, and she expected her daughter to cover up his murder.
Ellie dove for the gun, and she and her mother wrestled for it.
“Let go!” Ellie shouted.
Instead of loosening her grip, Vera fought harder. Ellie pushed her with one hand to throw her off balance, and their arms swung upward. Her father vaulted toward them and yanked her mother away. Somehow in the tangle, the gun went off.
The sound of the gunshot echoed in the silence. Ellie’s mother screamed. Her father staggered backward with a shocked grunt, one hand flying to his chest.
Blood spattered everywhere. Her father’s shirt. The wall.
He collapsed on the floor and a river of red pooled beneath his body.
71.
Time stood still for Ellie as she stared at the blood oozing from her father’s chest. Her mother screamed and reached for the gun, which had fallen to the floor.
Derrick dove for it at the same time and Vera lunged at him, but Ellie grabbed her around the waist to pull her away.
“Mom, it’s over!” Ellie shouted. Her mother shoved her before running to her father and dropping down beside him, sobbing.
Derrick snagged his phone. “I’ll call 911.”
Ellie nodded numbly.
“If he dies, it’s your fault,” Vera said to her, her eyes burning with anger.
Hurt seized Ellie so hard she stumbled sideways and had to clutch the wall to keep from falling.
“The ambulance is on its way,” Derrick said. “Ellie, bring towels to help stop the bleeding.”
His calm order yanked her into motion, and she ran to the kitchen and grabbed a fistful of dry cloths from the drawer. By the time she returned to the study, Derrick had knelt beside her father.
“Leave us alone!” Vera screamed.
“He’s trying to help,” Ellie said. Derrick ripped open her father’s shirt and pressed a towel to the wound, then added another and another, applying pressure.
“Dad?” Ellie whispered.
He blinked, struggling to stay conscious. Finally, his eyes drifted closed and he went limp. Precious seconds ticked by. Her mother’s wails intensified. Ellie’s heart clenched with fear.
She’d been so angry at her father. But she didn’t want him to die.
What about the little girls? Penny? Chrissy? If he knew where they were, he had to tell them…
A siren blared outside. Her mother laid her head on her father’s arm and clung to him, crying.
Ellie raced to the door and ushered the paramedics in. “Gunshot wound to the chest. He’s losing blood fast and is unconscious.”
They hurried into the house with a stretcher. Tears blurred Ellie’s eyes as they checked her father’s vitals.
“Pulse is low and thready,” one of the medics said. They quickly eased her father onto the stretcher. Vera clung to Randall’s hand as they carried him to the ambulance.
Ellie raced behind, a fog of terror enveloping her.
“Get in. I’ll drive you to the hospital,” Derrick said.
His earlier hurtful words echoed in her head. He thought her father was guilty. That she’d seduced him to distract him from the case.
“I’ll drive myself.” She jogged toward her SUV, jumped in and started the engine. She couldn’t be anywhere near Derrick right now.
Her tires skated over the icy drive and onto the highway. Heart pounding, she flipped on her siren and remained close behind the ambulance while Derrick tailed her.
When they reached the hospital, the medics unloaded her father and rushed him into the ER. Her mother hovered by him as they wheeled him to an exam room.
Ellie flashed her badge. “Gunshot wound to the chest,” she told the attending physician.
He immediately started barking orders. “Start an IV drip. Let me take a look.”
Ellie nodded and stepped to the door of the exam room, but her mother’s look of fury made her freeze at the doorway.
If he dies it’s your fault.
Ellie leaned against the wall, fear pulsing through her as the nurse cut her father’s shirt and the doctor examined the gunshot wound. Derrick appeared, his expression stony.
A minute later, the doctor stepped to the door to talk to her. “The bullet may have hit an artery. We need to get him to surgery ASAP.”
“Will he make it?” Ellie said in a choked whisper.
“We’ll do everything we can to save him.”
Emotions welled in Ellie’s throat. She and Derrick stood in silence as they wheeled her father from the exam room and down the hall. Ellie’s mother chased behind, an emotional wreck.
When they disappeared around the corner of the corridor, Ellie stood frozen. Derrick’s phone rang, the lines beside his eyes deepening as he listened. A second later, he disconnected with a low moan.
“That was the forensic anthropologist,” Derrick said quietly. “That last grave… it was Kim.”
72.
Sympathy for Derrick suffused Ellie. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured.
His body went rigid. “I have to make a call. But I’ll be back for Randall.”
His words felt like a physical blow. Although how could she blame him for how he felt?
Still, the fact that he’d accused her of using him hurt. He didn’t really know her at all.
Spinning on his heels, he disappeared down the hall in a cloud of anger and grief. The sound of the medical staff’s voices jarred Ellie back to the problem at hand. Keeping her father alive so he could tell her where to find Penny and Chrissy.
The minutes rolled into two agonizing hours as Ellie paced the waiting room. Her mother hovered on the opposite side, wringing her hands together and crying. She must have called Bryce, because he rushed in and dashed to her. Bordering on hysteria, she fell into his arms as if she was a victim and Ellie the enemy. Thankfully, he was sans Angelica this time.
What had her mother told him? Had Bryce known what was going on? Had her father chosen to back Bryce because he knew Bryce would cover for him?
She replayed the conversation with her father in his study, searching for answers. He hadn’t actually confessed that he’d kidnapped or hurt the girls. If his fingerprints were on one of the grave markers, maybe he’d found the victims and buried them.
But why wouldn’t he have reported it?
That didn’t fit with the man she’d grown up with. Her father had been caring. Loving. A man of justice.
He’d bounced her on his knee when she was little and taught her to ride a bike. They’d flown kites together at the park and volunteered at the local pet adoption center. He’d rescued countless lost hikers from the mountains. Had taken her and her friends camping and hiking. He’d been a role model. He was everyone’s role model. A hero.
She massaged her temple.
A little after six, Bryce disappeared down the hall, then returned bearing two cups of coffee. After giving her mother one, he crossed the room to Ellie. She accepted the cup with a muttered thanks, but she was in no mood to talk.
Thankfully, the doctor appeared at the doorway and called for the Reeves family, his expression serious. She and her mother rushed to join him, although her mother maintained her distance from Ellie.
“The bullet just missed his aorta, but we removed it,” the doctor said. “He lost a lot of blood and is in serious condition in the ICU. The next forty-eight hours are critical.”
Vera dabbed at her tears with an embroidered handke
rchief. She looked the delicate flower Ellie had known all her life. Not the crazed woman who’d pulled a gun on her and a federal agent.
She was surprised Derrick hadn’t arrested her. That still might be coming.
“Can I see him?” Ellie asked.
“I’m his wife, I want to see him first,” her mother insisted.
A puzzled look crossed the doctor’s face, but he didn’t question them. “One visitor at a time. Five minutes at the most. He needs rest.”
After the doctor turned to leave, Ellie’s mother cornered her. “You heard the doctor. He needs rest, not to be upset.”
“I understand that,” Ellie snapped. “But two little girls’ lives hang in the balance. If he knows where they are, I might be able to save them.”
“You keep pressing your father and you’ll kill him,” Vera spat as she strode down the corridor.
Bryce was watching Ellie with a hooded gaze as her mother disappeared through a set of double doors. “What happened, Ellie? Do you want to talk?”
To him? Not on her life.
Before she could respond, Derrick appeared, a vein throbbing in his neck. “Is he out of surgery?”
Ellie nodded. “In the ICU. My mother just went in to see him.”
“I have to talk to him, Detective Reeves.”
So now it was detective, not Ellie. Any closeness she thought they’d shared had obviously been on her part. He thought she’d slept with him as a distraction. Did he really think she’d stoop that low, or that she’d cover for a child killer?
Steeling her emotions, she spoke curtly. “She’ll be out shortly.”
Bryce glanced back and forth between them, but neither she nor Derrick bothered to explain. She sipped the bitter sludge from the vending machine, her own strong veneer cracking just like the plaster on the chipped hospital walls.
Five minutes later, she approached the nurses’ desk and asked to be admitted to the ICU. As much as she wanted to tell Derrick to stay away, she couldn’t deny him access. In spite of what had happened between them and his ugly accusation, they had one thing in common—they wanted to find Penny and Chrissy.
