by Hood, D. K.
Her Broken Wings
A completely unputdownable serial killer thriller
D.K. Hood
Books by D.K. Hood
Don’t Tell A Soul
Bring Me Flowers
Follow Me Home
The Crying Season
Where Angels Fear
Whisper in the Night
Break the Silence
Her Broken Wings
AVAILABLE IN AUDIO
Don’t Tell A Soul (Available in the UK and the US)
Bring Me Flowers (Available in the UK and the US)
Follow Me Home (Available in the UK and the US)
The Crying Season (Available in the UK and the US)
Where Angels Fear (Available in the UK and the US)
Whisper in the Night (Available in the UK and the US)
Break the Silence (Available in the UK and the US)
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Epilogue
Hear more from D.K. Hood
Books by D.K. Hood
A Letter from D.K. Hood
Don’t Tell a Soul
Bring Me Flowers
Follow Me Home
The Crying Season
Where Angels Fear
Whisper in the Night
Break the Silence
Acknowledgments
To Michelle, Jasmine, Savannah, Cooper, Zack, Jake, Wesley, and Gary
Prologue
Twenty years ago
Dark clouds rolled across the sky, starving the endless night, with no hope of illumination from the waning moon. Outside the wind whined through the trees and buffeted the house in wild gusts. She lay very still, not making a sound in the alcohol-soaked air. The door to the bedroom hung open, and the ticking of the hundred-year-old grandfather clock in the hallway stripped away the hours and minutes until dawn. Her head pounded and the cut on her lip tasted like metal, but she’d made plans to get away and it was now or never. Heart hammering, she slid silently from the bed and headed for the door, stepping with care to avoid the creaky wooden floorboards. She’d hidden her clothes in the bathroom laundry basket and quickly dressed before moving along the hallway like a ghost to her boys’ bedroom.
Tousled but anxious for the secret adventure to begin, they shrugged into their coats, pulled on their boots, and snuck down the hallway to the stairs. Dizzy with fear, she crept past her bedroom door and pressing a finger to her lips urged them forward.
In a grind of familiar machinery, the grandfather clock struck the hour and she froze, mid-stride. Gong, gong, gong, gong, gong, gong.
The sound echoed through the house like an intruder alarm, but as the vibration of the last chime dissipated, not a sound came from her bedroom. She followed the boys downstairs and they slipped out the door in silence. She grabbed their hands and ran to the old battered sedan parked out front. With her boys safely inside, she climbed behind the wheel. Parked on the sloping driveway, she’d planned to roll the vehicle some ways away from the house before starting the engine and heading for the reservation. She could hide there and he’d never find her.
After fumbling the key into the ignition, she took one last furtive glance at the house. Light spilled from the bedroom and she gasped in terror at the face twisted with rage at the window. He knows. He’ll never let us leave. She turned the key. The old car shivered and shuddered but refused to start. She banged her fists on the steering wheel. “Come on, come on.”
After pumping the gas, she tried again and the engine spluttered into life. Wasting no time, she headed down the isolated dirt road, bouncing over tree roots and the sunken tire tracks left in the mud after last winter’s melt. Tall, foreboding trees lined the driveway like sentries to form the dark tunnel to her prison. As she burst through the gate on the other side, the sun was no more than a light haze on the horizon. Not much further now, and the moment she turned onto the highway, she’d be free.
The old mining road stretched out before her, the grasslands like a sea of turbulent water under the swirling morning mist. Fear cramped her stomach with every glance into the rear-view mirror. She’d tried to escape before but each time he’d found her and dragged her back. His drinking had gotten so bad he’d kill her soon enough, and she refused to allow a monster to raise her sons. As the wall of pines lining Stanton Road came into view, she stared at the long winding blacktop that would take her to safety and floored the gas pedal.
“Daddy’s coming.” One of her sons had twisted around in his seat and was staring out the back window. “He’s going to be angry again.”
Panic gripped her by the throat and sweat coated her flesh at the sight of bobbing headlights, but she forced her voice to remain calm. “We’ll be on the highway soon and he won’t be able to catch us.”
She took the bend onto Stanton Road at an angle, sending dirt and gravel flying up in a gray cloud. The old tires gripped the blacktop and she pushed the gas pedal to the floor. Five miles to the on-ramp and she’d be on the highway, and then only a few more miles to the private road deep in the forest that would take her home. As a Native American, once inside the reservation she and her sons would vanish like smoke. She glanced in the mirror and swallowed hard. The truck’s headlights lit up the road and it was coming fast. The empty road ahead of her filled her with terror. She’d hoped by leaving early, a delivery truck or someone would be traveling into Black Rock Falls at this hour. If he caught up with her again, she’d be defenseless.
She let out a cry of anguish when the car’s engine spluttered and steam crept out from under the hood, but she pushed on. Trees flashed by in a sea of green and black but her gaze remained fixed on the yellow line down the middle of the blacktop.
Bright lights hit her mirror, blinding her, and then she heard the roar of a powerful engine. Terrified, she willed the car to go faster and moved out to straddle the yellow line; if he couldn’t overtake her, he couldn’t push her off the road. The next moment the car’s engine squealed in a metal-on-metal shriek and shuddered. Clouds of smoke poured from under the hood, obstructing her view of the road. Fumes filled the car and, choking, she wound down the window. A blast of freezing air slapped her in the face but the lights behind her had gotten closer. She gasped in distress and pressed the accelerator but the engine made one last moan and stopped running. The momentum took her some distance but he was almost on her, the bright lights from his truck filling the ca
r’s interior and burning her eyes.
With seconds to spare, she pulled off the road and sprang from the car, flinging open the back door. “Grab your backpacks and run that way.” She pointed into the forest. “Don’t look back.”
To hide them from the enraged lunatic getting slowly from his truck with a shovel in one hand, she headed in the opposite direction to lure him away.
“Mommy, don’t leave us here.” A plaintive wail came from behind her.
She stopped and looked around as her tormentor crashed into the forest. She gaped in horror as he scooped up his son and then threw him to the ground like garbage. Blood trickled from the young boy’s nose as he lay unmoving. She ran at her husband and pounded his chest with her fists. “What have you done?”
His laugh raised the hairs on her flesh as he tossed her aside and then swung the shovel like a baseball bat. The clang inside her head vibrated into her eyes. As she fell, the ground came up fast and pine needles prickled her cheek. She hoped her other son had gotten away but she would never know. As she reached out to touch the outstretched hand of her little boy, the smell of the woodlands filled her head as if to soothe her. She’d missed the pine-scented mountain air. Her sight blurred and then cleared for a few seconds, allowing her to see the sky. The storm clouds parted and the rising sunbeams pierced the branches like a halo of gold around them. High above a murder of crows circled and then filled the trees as if welcoming her home.
One
Monday afternoon
Heart pounding, Sheriff Jenna Alton edged her way inside the drugstore, keeping a line of shelves between her and the young guy in a ski mask aiming a gun at the pharmacist. The man’s finger was on the trigger and his hands shook so bad, she’d have to use all her powers of negotiation to prevent him from shooting the pharmacist at close range. The voice of her second in command and close friend, Deputy David Kane, came through her earbud.
“Locked on target.”
Jenna tapped her speaker twice, indicating, she’d received his message. Having a six-five, ex-military sniper as backup in situations like these sure made life easier, and if she gave the order, he’d splatter the young man’s brains all over the store. Pulse thumping in her ears, she moved with stealth past the cosmetics. A myriad of perfumes from the products cramming the shelves accosted her. To her right a coffee machine suddenly hummed into action, startling her. Taking a steadying breath, she peeked around the corner and met the pharmacist’s terrified gaze. She lifted her weapon to take aim, edging closer, and then held one finger to her lips, motioning with her Glock for him to move away from the man with the gun.
“Don’t just stand there gawking at me.” The young man lifted the pistol and aimed between the pharmacist’s eyes. “How many times have I got to tell you? Pain meds, the stronger the better. Fill up this bag.” He thrust a backpack across the counter. “Do it now, unless you want to die.”
Jenna gave the pharmacist a curt nod. The gunman had given him an excuse to move away from immediate danger.
“Sure, just take your finger off the trigger, son.” The pharmacist lifted his chin. “I’d rather give you what you want than risk the chance of not seeing my wife and kids one more time.” He took the bag and turned away, moving behind a partition.
Jenna scanned her position; with the pharmacist out of the line of fire, she had to make a move. The flimsy shelving lined with cans of baby formula wouldn’t stop a bullet, but it might slow it down some. Not wanting to startle the man into a gunfight, she aimed her Glock between the cans and kept her voice low. “Sheriff’s department. Lower your weapon and we can talk about this before someone gets hurt.”
“Listen, Sheriff, I don’t want to hurt anyone. Just let me walk out with the drugs.” The man’s eyes locked on hers and he trained his weapon at her.
“Jenna, give me the word.” Kane sounded insistent in her ear.
Her gaze moved over the young man’s trembling body and she decided reasoning with him might work. “Unless you drop your weapon now, you won’t leave here alive.” She held her weapon in both hands and aimed at his chest. “You’re surrounded and I have a sniper outside aiming at your head—and he never misses. Now lower your weapon and we’ll talk. If you need help, this isn’t the way to go about it.”
“You don’t understand.” The gunman dropped his gun to his side and his voice came out in an anguished sob. “I’ve been fired and now I don’t have money for my mom’s pain meds. She’s dying and I stayed home a few days to care for her. She can’t go another night without pills.” He lifted his weapon again and aimed at her. “I walk out with the meds or I’m killing you and the pharmacist.”
Wrong answer. Jenna heard a zing as a bullet embedded in the man’s shoulder. Kane had made the shot, not to kill but to disarm. As the young man cried out, his gun clattered across the tiles and he slid down the counter to sit on the floor. Moaning, he rocked back and forth, gripping his arm. Jenna dashed out from the aisle and kicked his pistol out of reach and then, aiming her Glock at his head, stared down at him. “Remove the ski mask. What’s your name?”
“Dirk Grainger.” He dragged off the mask with a bloody hand and then lifted his pain-filled eyes to her. “If I go to jail, my mom will die alone in agony. Please, Sheriff, do what you want with me but you gotta help her.”
“You threatened to kill me.” Jenna glared at him. “You’re lucky you live in Black Rock Falls or you’d be dead.” She bent to examine his wound. “It’s a through and through. You’ll be fine.”
“Paramedics are on their way.” Kane pushed into the store with Deputy Jake Rowley close behind. His gaze moved over Jenna and then he pulled on a surgical glove and bent to pick up the weapon. “It’s not loaded.”
“I know this boy.” The pharmacist came out from behind the counter, unwrapping a wad of cotton. He bent down and held the dressing against the wound. “Press this against it, son.” He stood and turned to Jenna. “He’s telling you the truth. The nursing home turned out his mother a few weeks ago, and Dirk here stayed home to care for her. He had some vacation time due but the plant let him go.” His brow wrinkled into a frown. “It’s getting late, and if you arrest Dirk, who’ll look after his mom tonight?”
Jenna frowned. She’d heard rumors about conditions at a local nursing home. “Was she out at Glen Park Palliative Care?”
“Yeah.” Dirk’s face was sheet-white. “When they took our money, they said she’d receive the best of care until she died. Three months she was there, and then they called me to go get her, said she wasn’t dying.” He looked up at her. “Doc Brown and two others told me she’s terminal.”
Jenna exchanged a look with Kane and he shrugged. She looked down at Dirk. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Dirk looked panic-stricken. “I can’t leave my mom alone for long. It will be dark soon and someone needs to be with her.”
Jenna nodded. “Okay. Give me your address, and I’ll need your house key.” She took down the details and they waited for the paramedics to take him to the free clinic. “Go with him, Rowley. I’ll call you.”
As the paramedics wheeled Dirk out on a gurney, she turned to Kane. “We’ll need to get help for his mom and then try and sort out this mess.”
“I won’t press charges against him.” The pharmacist adjusted his spectacles. “I’ve known that boy since he was a baby. He must’ve been pushed to the limit to commit a crime.”
Jenna straightened. “Obviously.” She turned to Kane. “Outside.”
She stepped outside, inhaling the fresh pine scent wafting on a cool breeze from Stanton Forest, and watched as the ambulance merged into the traffic. She had a responsibility as sheriff to bring criminals to justice, but she also had the discretion to charge someone or not. She’d been staring into space for some moments when Kane’s voice broke through her thoughts.
“So, what are you planning on doing, Jenna?” Kane walked to his truck and leaned against the door. “He was playing with
fire aiming a gun at you. How could I possibly have known it wasn’t loaded?”
Jenna looked out to the snowcapped mountains and shrugged. “I trusted your judgment. You usually disable rather than kill.” She moved her attention back to him.
“I figured he was shaking so much, he wouldn’t have been able to hit the side of a barn, and you’d taken cover, but if you’d given the word, I would’ve killed him.” Kane shook his head.
“But you didn’t. You used sound judgment and disarmed him.” She considered the situation and made the call. “If he comes up clean, I’m not charging him. It was extenuating circumstances and his weapon wasn’t loaded. I don’t believe he intended to hurt anyone and was obviously out of his mind with worry. I’ll give him a warning and let him go. The gunshot wound to his shoulder is enough punishment.” She sighed. “If it goes to court, without the pharmacist pressing charges, he’ll only get a fine. He doesn’t have money or a job and will end up turning to a life of crime.”
