He took an awkward step forward, still holding that cup in his hand. “Go on, take it.”
Elenore hesitantly moved toward him and accepted the cup of juice he held. He’d offered her his juice—a juice she wasn’t normally allowed to touch.
He cleared his throat. “Look, Elle. I…um… I’m sorry about yesterday. You know how I get when I’ve been drinking. I would never hurt you for anything in the world.”
More confusion settled in.
“I love you, Elle. I don’t know what I would do if you left me like your mama did. I’ll stop the drinking this time. I swear it.”
Elenore’s heart shifted. Her father loved her. That’s all she’d ever wanted from him—his love and acceptance.
Part of her loved him in return. But a part, way down deep in her soul, hated the very ground he walked on.
Tears began to gather in her eyes. Maybe he meant it this time? Maybe he realized the monster he became when drinking, and he would finally quit?
She couldn’t answer him, so great was the ache in her chest. She ached to be loved, ached to run away and never look back. But mostly, she ached for revenge.
How could she simply forgive him for the pain and humiliation she’d consistently endured at his hands? Hands that should show love and compassion. The very hands he held out to her now.
Elenore took deep, calming breaths, a coping mechanism she’d learned at an early age. She forced her mind to shut out the incomprehensible memories of the day before, set her juice on the nightstand, and moved on wooden legs into her father’s outstretched arms.
He gently rocked her, murmuring soothing words above her head that made little sense. “You forgive your ole man?”
She nodded, more out of habit than consent.
“Good girl.” He released her and took a step back. “Don’t worry about making breakfast for me. I’m going fishing with Dale Mitchell this morning. I’ll just grab something on the way.”
Elenore stood rooted to the spot long after her father left the room.
Her emotions were all over the place. How could a man who was supposed to love her do the things he did to her? Was it her fault?
She’d come to the conclusion over the years that she was somehow to blame for her mother leaving. And that Mary Griffin’s sudden departure was the sole reason her father drank like he did.
Elenore waited until she heard Elijah’s truck leave the yard before she stumbled to the bathroom and vomited.
She retched so long and hard her stomach muscles screamed in protest. Yet no matter how much she heaved, she couldn’t rid herself of his smell on her.
Staggering to her feet, she turned on the shower, stripped out of her well-worn gown, and stepped under the spray.
She would scrub herself until she bled, if that’s what it took to feel clean. But Elenore would never feel clean again. Never.
After her shower, she took down a green dress that had seen better days. But the sleeves were short and the material thin. Which seemed practical given the sweltering heat that was sure to arrive.
She would give anything for a pair of jeans, or pants of any kind, for that matter. But Elijah refused to let her have them. He claimed they were of the devil and reserved for men and… whores.
Slipping on the dress, she moved to stand in front of her mirror. She pulled her long blonde hair back into a ponytail and stared at her reflection. She really did resemble her mother.
Resentment boiled up inside her, the longer she stood there, looking at herself. That is what Daddy sees when he looks at me, she thought with more than a little disgust. Mother.
An image of Mary Griffin’s crying face suddenly flashed through Elenore’s mind. “Elijah, don’t!”
A whimper escaped Elenore. She staggered back a few steps, her hand flying to her mouth.
The memory of Mary trying desperately to protect her daughter didn’t add up with the tales Elenore had been told all her life. Even though the stories came from Elijah, Elenore had no reason not to believe him. Why else would her mother have left her behind?
According to Elijah, Mary had run off with a friend of his when Elenore was eight years old. She’d never returned or attempted to contact her daughter in the last twelve years.
Elenore hated herself in that moment more than she’d ever hated herself before. Something was wrong with her, something bad enough that her own mother hadn’t wanted her. And though her father had never walked away from her, he blamed her for her mother leaving. Elenore could see it in his eyes. Especially when he drank.
Chapter Three
Evan Ramirez entered Gerald’s Diner at nine a.m., approximately twenty minutes after his meeting with Sheriff Donnie King.
The sheriff had wanted to personally congratulate Evan on his recent move to their fine town, not to mention being Haverty County’s new investigator. He’d also handed Evan his first official case.
“Mornin’, Detective.” Minnie Anderson greeted Evan as he took a seat near the window. “Will you be having breakfast?”
Evan shook his head, sending Minnie a friendly smile. In the few short weeks he’d been in Wexler, she’d taken exceptionally good care of him. “Just coffee, please.”
As far as waitresses went, Minnie Anderson was a good one. She treated all her customers equally and never forgot a face. Her memory was as sharp as a tack, even though she had to be pushing eighty years old.
She bustled over and set a cup of black coffee in front of Evan. “Any news on Selma’s husband?”
Selma’s husband happened to be Hector Gonzalez, the first man to go missing from Wexler.
“Nothing yet,” Evan admitted after taking a sip of his coffee. “I was just handed the case this morning. Hopefully, we know something soon.”
Mabel Jenkins, who sat at the end of the bar, piped in. “The first place I’d be checking, if it were me, would be over at the Griffin’s. Hector Gonzalez worked at the lumber yard with Elijah Griffin, from what I understand. Matter of fact, according to Hector’s wife, she ran Elijah off from her house about a week before Hector came up missing. She said Elijah had shown up there drunk, demanding Hector pay him some money he owed him.”
“Mabel!” Minnie quickly scolded. “It ain’t very Christian-like to talk about folks behind their back.”
The one known as Mabel sent Minnie a go-to the devil look. “I never claimed to a be a Christian. Besides, I reckon Jesus knows what Elijah Griffin is all about, as well as the rest of us do.”
Evan cleared his throat. “Be that as it may, Miss Jenkins, it doesn’t mean that Mr. Griffin had anything to do with Hector’s disappearance.”
“Name’s Mabel,” she shot back with a side glance. “Miss Jenkins was my grandma.”
Evan fought a laugh. “I’m sorry, Mabel. It won’t happen again.”
The bell above the door chimed, announcing the appearance of Deputy Charlie Taylor.
He removed his hat, the bald spot on his head shining under the florescent lights.
“Morning, Charlie,” the entire diner chorused as the deputy made his way over to Evan’s table.
Charlie tipped his head to the room at large, adjusted his gun belt beneath his overly big belly, and took a seat across from Evan. “It’s south of Hades out there already. I thought for sure I’d die of heat stroke when I got out of my car. Does it get this hot in Mexico?”
A muscle ticked along Evan’s jaw. “I wouldn’t know. I’m from Georgia.”
“Oh.” Genuine embarrassment shone from Charlie’s eyes. “I just assumed with your name being Ramirez…”
“I was born in Atlanta.” Evan decided to change the subject. “What can you tell me about the three missing men from Wexler?”
Charlie blew out a breath, moving his hands out of the way as Minnie set his coffee in front of him. “All three had arrest records. Everything from DUIs to domestic disputes. Why, what are you thinking?”
Evan shrugged. “I don’t know yet. We had a similar case in Atlanta, involving the disappear
ance of four women.”
“Were any of them ever located?” Charlie picked up his coffee and blew into the cup.
“Yes. They’d all been murdered by the same man.”
Charlie nearly choked on his coffee. “Murdered? Did you find the guy?”
“We did. But the women had something in common… They worked the street corners. And this particular killer had a fetish for young prostitutes. It became his downfall. He was eventually picked up for soliciting an undercover. At which point we matched his DNA with one of the victims we had found earlier in the year. He told us where to find the other three women in exchange for avoiding the electric chair.”
Minnie meandered over and placed a plate of food in front of Charlie, even though Evan hadn’t heard him order.
Charlie plucked up the salt and began shaking it vigorously over his sunny-side-up eggs. He paused, meeting Evan’s gaze. “Give her another week, and Minnie will have you figured out. I haven’t placed an order here in probably ten years. She knows what I’m having before I do.”
Evan shook his head at the enormous amount of food on Charlie’s plate.
“He’s a growing boy,” Minnie announced with a wink and a pat to Charlie’s back. “Besides, we’ve grown rather fond of him over the years.”
Charlie smiled but continued doctoring up his food.
Once the waitress wandered off, Evan pinned Charlie with a serious look. “Tell me about Elijah Griffin.”
Taking a rather large bite of his eggs, Charlie appeared thoughtful. He spoke around his mouthful of food. “He’s the town drunk. Or used to be until he got that last DUI. Now, he gets others to drive him around when he’s been drinking. At least that’s what I hear, anyway. It’s been a while since I’ve had to lock him up.”
Mabel spoke up once again. “He needs to be in prison for what he’s done to that girl.”
Evan shifted his focus to Mabel. “What did he do and to whom?”
The older woman slid off her stool and trailed over to stand next to Evan’s table. “That girl of his. His daughter. He’s been beating on her since the day she screamed her way into this world.”
“Now, Mabel,” Charlie interjected, half turning in his seat to face her. “That’s pure gossip. We don’t have any evidence to back that up.”
Mabel narrowed her eyes in Charlie’s direction. “Don’t we? Why don’t you ask Claire Lewis how much evidence she had against Elijah? If not for that old geezer Judge Powell turning a blind eye, it would have been three hots and a cot for Elijah Griffin.”
Evan pulled a twenty-dollar bill from his pocket and dropped it onto the table. He nodded to Charlie and then stood. “Breakfast is on me.”
“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” Charlie plucked up the money. “Appreciate that.”
“I’ve got something to do here in town first, then I’m going to drive out to Elijah Griffin’s place and have a chat with him.”
Charlie picked up a napkin and wiped at his mouth. “Want me to ride with?”
“That’s all right, Charlie. Finish your breakfast. I’m just going to ask him a couple of questions.”
Turning on his heel, Evan sent Minnie a wink and strolled out the door.
Chapter Four
Elenore dropped her head back on her shoulders while rolling it from side to side. Milking the cow had never been an easy chore, but to do it in the dead of summer made it twice as hard.
It didn’t help that her body ached in places it shouldn’t, and it hurt to sit on the small wooden seat of the stool beneath her.
Pushing to her feet, Elenore nearly lost her balance. She was more than a little grateful when she didn’t spill the pail of milk she’d work so hard for.
After taking the milk to kitchen, Elenore returned to the rundown barn out back and untied the cow. She then made her way to the chicken coop to check for eggs.
The coop wasn’t in much better shape than the barn, but it sat beneath a cluster of oak trees, affording the chickens a cool, shaded area to scratch around in.
“Move aside,” Elenore announced, entering the coop. “Y’all know the drill.”
She leaned down to gather some eggs from a laying box, when an image of the missing man from television flashed through her mind. Hector Gonzalez.
Hector had visited Elenore shortly before his disappearance. As had Dennis Baker and Alan Brown.
Elijah had been selling Elenore to a few of the men in town since she’d been a young girl. He would allow them an hour with her, to do with what they wanted, no matter how vile or cruel. And some of them were exceptionally cruel.
The sound of a vehicle coming up the dirt drive caught Elenore off guard.
She quickly gathered up the rest of the eggs, tucked them into her apron, and left the coop.
There, slowing to a stop not twenty feet in front of her, was a Haverty County patrol car.
Shielding her eyes against the midmorning sun, Elenore anxiously watched a tall, dark-haired man exit the vehicle.
“Is this the Griffin place?” the officer called out in a clear, deep voice.
Elenore wanted to run inside. She had dealt with the police before, years ago after the Department of Children and Families had been called on Elijah.
If her father returned home to find a deputy in the yard, Elenore would suffer the consequences.
She averted her gaze. “Yes, it is.”
The office advanced, his steps sure and precise. “I need to speak with Elijah Griffin. Is he around?”
Elenore shook her head. “He’s not here.”
“My name’s Evan Ramirez. I’m an investigator with the Haverty County Sheriff’s Department.”
Elenore nodded her understanding but kept her gaze on a tree to his left.
“And you are?” he prompted, placing his body in her line of sight.
She swallowed down her panic and met his gaze. He had kind, green eyes. There was nothing lascivious lurking in their depths. She relaxed a little. Very little.
“Elenore. Elenore Griffin. Like I said, my daddy’s not here.”
He nodded toward her arm, his demeanor suddenly changing. “Are you all right?”
Elenore immediately covered the bruise he referred to with her hand. “I’m fine. Fell in the barn, is all.”
He didn’t believe her, if his expression were any indication. “Are you sure you’re okay? That’s a pretty bad bruise you have there. Have you had it looked at?”
Elenore cleared her throat and backed up a step. “Really, I’m fine, Mr. Ramirez. I need to finish the chores. But I’ll let Daddy know you stopped by.”
He nodded, reaching into his shirt pocket and pulling out a business card. “I appreciate that, Elenore.” He held it out to her.
It wasn’t lost on her that he kept his stance nonthreatening while extending the card toward her. He was obviously trying not to frighten her.
She relaxed a little more and accepted the card. “I don’t know when he’ll be home, but I’ll see that he gets this.”
He glanced at her feet, his gaze softening even more.
Embarrassment was swift. She knew her shoes were stained, and a hole was present on the side of one. She was also hyperaware of how dirty her legs and hands were. But working among chickens, pigs, and cows would do that to a person.
As uncomfortable as Elenore felt under his perusal, it was nothing compared to the anxiety she experienced over her father coming home to find her talking to the police.
Evan Ramirez must have sensed her inner conflict. He turned to go. But not before his gaze touched on everything from the barn to the house. “I’ll check back later.”
Elenore stood rooted to the spot while he sauntered back to his car and slid behind the wheel.
He backed out of the dirt drive, leaving her to wonder what the police wanted with her father.
Yeah, Elijah wouldn’t be happy about it all.
She crumpled the card into a little ball in her palm, dug a small hole in the dirt at he
r feet, and buried it.
Available on Amazon
Titles by Ditter Kellen
Elle Series
I am Elle -A Psychological Thriller
Elle Returns: The Sequel – Book 2
Elle Unleashed – Book 3
The Boy in the Window
A Suspense Thriller
The Girl Named Mud
A Gripping Suspense Novel
Where Corn Don’t Grow
A Chilling Psychological Thriller – Coming Soon
The Girl Who Lived To Tell
A Chilling Psychological Thriller
Quick Chronicles
An FBI Thriller Series
The Silencer – Book 1
The Prophet – Book 2 - Releasing early 2020
About Ditter
Ditter Kellen is the USA Today Bestselling Author of Mystery/Thriller/Suspense/Crime Fiction Novels. She loves spinning edgy, heart-pounding mysteries that will leave you guessing until the very end. That includes psychological thrillers with a touch of horror, as well as family drama laced with murder and jaw dropping scenes, some might find difficult to read.
Ditter resides in Alabama with her husband and many unique farm animals. She adores French fries and her phone is permanently attached to her ear. You can contact Ditter by email: [email protected]
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The Girl Named Mud: A Gripping Suspense Novel Page 15
