by Mary Stone
Jillian stayed close but hovered between Ellie and the edge of the path. “How did he carry her out here with it like this?”
“She was dumped during a dryer month, which was probably intentional. The storm right before she was found was one of those freak thunderstorms that rolls in from out of nowhere and disappears just as quickly. It dumped a lot of water into the river in a very short space of time.” Ellie looked up from the ground she’d raked her gaze over, assessing where to best carefully move to next. She shot Jillian a grin. “I checked the weather reports for that time period while you were in the bathroom at the station. When the water rises in the river, the ground here turns marshy, but before that, this was probably as stable as the walking path.”
“Marshy? Is that the technical term?”
Ellie laughed. “You know what I mean. Make sure the ground is solid before you take a step.”
“I’m staying right here. This is way above my pay grade.”
“Mine too. I hope I don’t fall because I didn’t bring any towels, and I don’t want to have to buy a new car,” Ellie quipped.
Jillian scratched her nose. “A new car?”
“Remember that pursuit they caught on TV, the one ending on a bridge?”
Jillian shot her a droll look. “Is there anyone in Charleston who doesn’t remember it? It was only two weeks ago, and it was all over the news for almost a week.”
“You’re right. It feels like a lifetime has gone by, but it was practically yesterday. My life has changed a lot. For the better, of course. Anyway, Jacob lost a shoe in the marsh, and his clothes got soaked. He couldn’t get the smell out of his car and ended up trading it in.”
“That’s one way of dealing with it.” Jillian didn’t try to hide her amusement. “It is a horrific smell.”
“I think he used it as an excuse to buy his dream car, but I don’t blame him. The smell is nasty.” Ellie’s nostrils flared to emphasize the stench all around them.
Jillian smiled and nodded toward Ellie’s feet. “You know what that sludge is made of, right?”
Ellie wrinkled her nose and turned back to scanning the ground. “Don’t remind me.” She shuddered. “We had to dig in the mud for a school project, and just a few inches down, the smell of decaying plants and long-dead sea life is overwhelming. I felt sick for days afterward.” The wind kicked up, intensifing the scent around them, the odor clawing at her nostrils, making the memory so vivid she gagged a little. “There’s nothing like that stench.”
“Which is what makes this a great place to dump bodies. I bet more than one person walked down this trail and assumed the smell was just the marsh being extra fragrant that day.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” Ellie glanced back at the picture of the crime scene on her phone, shoulders slumping. “This is as far in as I can get without sinking, but I don’t think it matters. This dumpsite is so different from the other one, I can see why a connection was dismissed. The site is so far away from the trail, she wouldn’t have ever been found if it wasn’t for someone’s dog breaking away and going nuts.”
“Dogs do have an amazing sense of smell.”
“This discovery was dumb luck, but the killer wanted the other girl to be found.” Ellie shook her head. “That logic doesn’t make sense.”
“Nothing about these two cases makes sense.”
Ellie nodded as she picked her way back to the trail, her arms out to keep from losing her balance. She was almost home free when her foot got stuck in the mud, and she gripped a sapling for purchase as she tried to yank her shoe free. When she couldn’t get her foot out, she took the hand Jillian offered.
Jillian pulled as hard as she could. The boggy mud held Ellie tight for a moment, then let her go so fast she lost her balance, the release making a loud sucking noise that was almost obscene. She pulled on Jillian’s hand, desperate to stay upright, but it only made things worse. Stretched out so she could reach Ellie’s hand, Jillian’s center of gravity shifted, and they tumbled with a loud splat into the mud.
“Damn it,” Ellie sputtered as she tried unsuccessfully to get up without smearing more mud than she already had on herself. “The smell is awful.”
Jillian managed to get to her feet first, her blonde hair plastered to her head on one side, mud splashed across her cheek. She scrunched up her face. “Looks like you’re going to need a new car.”
Ellie shook her head. “Not just a new car. The smell will never come out of these clothes.” She looked at Jillian, biting back a smile that threatened. “You’re covered in mud.”
“You don’t say?” Jillian laughed, shaking her head. “You pulled me into it. What did you think was going to happen?”
“We can’t go back to the office like this. If you want, I can take you home so you can grab a change of clothes.”
“I live outside of McClellanville.” Jillian drooped as she surveyed the damage. “It’s an hour one way. Walmart?”
Humor that was entirely inappropriate for their location bubbled up into her chest as she pictured her and Jillian sashaying into the superstore. “What about my place? We’re about the same size. You can just borrow some of my clothes and shower really quick.”
Jillian nodded, then grimaced. “Maybe we should walk to your house. I don’t want to ruin your car.”
“It’s fifteen minutes away, and I put some towels in the trunk after the last time. It’ll be fine.”
“If you say so.”
They rode there with the windows down, terrycloth soaking up most of the dampness. Ellie sent the towels down the garbage chute before showing Jillian where the guest bathroom was. “When you’re done, you can grab an outfit out of the closet, through those doors.” She gestured to the guest bedroom.
“Your clothes aren’t in your bedroom?”
“They are.” Her cheeks heated a little. “This is the overflow.”
Jillian snorted. “Overflow? Do you have clothes in every closet?”
“No,” Ellie said with mock offense. “There’s at least one closet where I keep the vacuum.”
Jillian was still laughing, mumbling something about betting Ellie didn’t even own a vacuum, when she closed the bathroom door.
As soon as the water turned on and Ellie was sure Jillian didn’t need anything, she went to her room and stripped out of her pantsuit. It was going to take more than one pass with the body wash to get the reek out.
“Where’s your car?” Jillian asked when they came downstairs thirty minutes later, changed and smelling much better.
“I had my detailer pick it up. He left me a loaner.”
“Your detailer?” Jillian shook her head, her eyes wide. “You sure do lead a different kind of life.”
She shrugged. “It’s better than buying a new car, right? I’m kind of attached to mine.” She held her arm out and pressed the unlock button on the key fob, then groaned when the headlights flashed on a miniature car. “I was hoping it wasn’t the Smart car.”
“It’s tiny,” Jillian commented. “Kind of cute in a red toy car sort of way.”
Ellie stopped on the edge of the curb at what passed for a bumper on the car, planting her fists on her hips. “I’m not parking in the lot at PD.”
“Don’t be silly. It’s great. Besides, it matches the look I’ve got going here.”
She swung her gaze to Jillian, having not paid any attention to which outfit she’d borrowed. “And what’s that?”
Jillian held out her arms, and the sleeves slid down until the fabric covered all but the tips of her fingers. “I’m thinking: toddler wearing her mom’s clothes. You’re more than six inches taller than me.”
“You don’t seem that short.” Ellie gave her a once-over as she got into the driver’s seat.
“I’m five-three. I’m not short, I’m fun-sized.”
Their laughter filled the tiny car as Ellie darted out into traffic, making it to headquarters in record time and parking around the corner. They went through the side doo
r and somehow managed to avoid running into anyone.
Jillian grabbed a bag out of the large bottom drawer of her desk, then disappeared. When she returned, she was wearing clothes that fit, and she placed Ellie’s borrowed clothes, neatly folded, on Ellie’s desk.
“Thanks. Luckily, I always keep a spare change of clothes here. It’s the first time I’ve ever had to use them.” She tried to give Ellie a withering look before a smile broke through. “That was quite an adventure.”
“Too bad we’re right back where we started.”
“Yeah. I see what you mean about taking one step forward and a hundred back.”
“I’m so frustrated.” Ellie slapped the papers she’d started pouring over in Jillian’s absence. “Something has to give eventually, but right now I just feel buried by all this new information. At least we have one thing we can do now.”
“What’s that?” Jillian stepped closer.
“We can search again with the correct hair color for each woman.”
“That should help.” Jillian went to her desk, firing up her computer. “I’ll get right on it.”
“I’ve been thinking about the watches too.”
“What about them?”
Ellie lined up the two photos of the women’s wrists. “Isn’t it weird how they have the same tan line, but there was no brand of watch that matched?”
“A little,” Jillian said cautiously, “but there’s so many brands and models of watches. What are you getting at?”
“What if they were custom? Like, a best friend gift. What are the chances of them having the same exact watch that can’t be traced if they didn’t know each other?”
“If it was just any old watch, I would say high. But you’re right, if the watch wasn’t tracable, there’s a chance it could be custom.”
“It can’t be a coincidence.” Ellie turned back to the screen of her computer. “So, let’s search for two friends who went missing at around the same time with matching watches, using the correct stats for each woman. You take social media, and I’ll expand the search for friends reported missing in both the Carolinas and Georgia.”
“That’s a good idea,” Jillian said, already focused on a newly opened search engine.
But chasing every possible lead in three states ate up half the afternoon, and their expanded search came up dry.
Ellie stood up so fast, her office chair rattled and almost fell over. “This is ridiculous,” she mumbled. Pacing, she punched in her code to the evidence room. In the cold case area, she placed each box on its own table. She spread the contents out and stood between the tables, pouring over one item before going to the matching one from the other case. “Same age, same watch, same clothes, same dumpsite,” she muttered as she paced between the tables.
One woman tortured. The other killed quickly.
But why? Why only torture one victim? It didn’t make sense.
What about the second victim? Was she the one who’d had the information?
Maybe he was torturing her friend to force her to give it up. First, he’d cut the poor woman’s fingers off. Then her hand. How long had the torture gone on before Victim Two put a stop to it?
Ellie froze, closing her eyes. Something tugged at her subconscious, but every time she tried to grab hold of the thought, it retreated further into the recesses of her mind. “Victim Two put a stop to it,” she whispered.
Victim One was tortured mercilessly, but Victim Two had been killed quickly. Her time of death was impossible to pin down because of weather and scavengers, but Ellie had a gut feeling the victim in the first Jane Doe case died first. So, what was she missing?
Kill the bitch.
The voice was a whisper in her mind, but it rocked her to her very core. She swayed where she stood, gaze flicking from one pile of evidence to the other. She could almost hear the whimpers of the first victim. She would’ve begged the man to stop. Or told her friend to tell him what he wanted to hear.
Everyone thought they’d be strong, but Ellie knew that in the end, most people were a lot more fragile than they realized. With blood loss and exhaustion thrown in for good measure, Jane Doe One was probably a hysterical mess before she died. But Jane Doe Two had low levels of ketamine and scopolamine—also known as Devil’s Breath. One to paralyze and the next to take away the victim’s inhibitions.
“Truth serum,” Ellie muttered. A quick check of the first woman’s autopsy showed no trace of ketamine or scopolamine, but Dr. Faizal had noted the presence of IV fluids known as crystalloids. Using her phone, she typed in the word and waited for the results.
She sat down with the notepad, writing down everything the article explained about crystalloids. Used to treat hypervolemic shock, the crystalloids were used to stabilize a patient who was experiencing catastrophic blood loss. Once the body lost fifteen percent blood volume, the organs began shutting down, and the patient went into shock.
Kill the bitch.
Ellie shook her head, ignoring the voice hissing the words in her head.
Movement caught her eye, but she didn’t have to look up to know it was Jillian. “Look at this,” she said, waving her over.
“I’m sorry. You’ve been in here so long muttering and pacing, I was starting to get worried.”
“I’ve found something.” She showed Jillian the toxicology report.
“They had different drugs in their systems. Is that important?” Jillian pulled out a chair and took a seat, looking over the report.
“He was treating Jane Doe One for hypervolemic shock.”
“Hyper what?”
Ellie smiled, glad she hadn’t been given a partner. She much preferred Jillian. There was a deep crevasse between Jillian’s eyes, she was concentrating so hard on the paper in front of her. She was devoted if nothing else.
“It’s a fancy way of saying she lost too much blood and was going to die.”
“But he killed her. He kept her alive so he could kill her?”
“I know.” Ellie pressed her fingertips into her temples. “That’s what’s so weird about it. Why keep her alive just to kill her anyway? Untreated, she would’ve died from the blood loss within the hour. But he kept her alive, and he gave the other woman ketamine and scopolamine.”
“What are those?”
“A paralytic and type of truth serum.”
Jillian’s eyes lit up. “I was thinking he tortured Victim One for information, but he didn’t need the information from her.”
“Exactly.” Ellie stabbed a finger at Jillian. “Whatever he wanted to hear, he wanted to hear it from the second victim.”
“So, he tortured one to torture both?”
Ellie nodded. “I think he did.”
“Sadistic bastard.”
“And when he had what he wanted from the other woman, he put Jane Doe One out of her misery.” Ellie’s stomach turned over, and she suddenly felt confined, even sitting in the chair. She shot to her feet, shaking off the feeling of being trapped.
“That’s awful.”
“Put in that position, she’d basically be telling the man when to kill the other person.” Ellie tensed, trying to silence the whispering in her head as it grew louder.
Say the words, a male voice hissed.
I won’t say it. The female voice was thin. Scared, but defiant.
She dies either way, the man said.
I won’t do it.
“Ellie?” When Ellie blinked her into focus, Jillian looked very concerned. “What are you thinking?”
“I don’t know. I think he put all the responsibility for the friend’s death on her as another layer of torture. When she gave him what he wanted to hear, he killed the first victim in one swift blow.”
Jillian clutched her neck and swallowed hard. “I can’t get that picture out of my mind. I don’t get it. Why not just let the girl fade away? Her friend would still watch her die.”
“It’s not the same. Once she went into shock, she was probably drifting in and out. Left a
lone, she would’ve fallen asleep and died somewhat peacefully. So that was his point. Maximum fear. What if he made Jane Two choose her life over her friend’s, then killed her anyway?”
“As if it couldn’t get worse.”
Say the words, the male voice demanded. Elongated, the hiss sounded more like a horror movie snake than a human.
Ellie shuddered, then forced the thoughts away. Imagining the horrors the victims faced wouldn’t help her solve the case. She had to focus, because she was quickly running out of time.
“What now?” Jillian asked when Ellie started gathering the evidence to place back into the boxes.
“I need to talk to Dr. Faizal again. I need to know exactly how long these drugs last and what their effects would be. If I can establish a timeline, maybe all this will start to make sense.”
“You can’t make sense of a murderer,” Jillian countered.
“Nope, but I can try. Somewhere, there’s a man roaming free who tortured two women, who, if my theory about their watches is correct, were best friends. If I’m right, I need to find out why, and I need to know the details of how. Then I’m going to find the asshole and lock him up for the rest of his life.”
“I hope you do.” Jillian’s voice was quiet, reverent. When she reached out to squeeze Ellie’s arm, there was a slight tremble in her hand. “Now, I don’t know how I’ll sleep at night knowing this man is still out there.”
“Thank goodness for Sam,” Ellie joked, trying to break the tension that hung heavy in the air.
“I hope when you find him, he’s already dead. That’s the only way justice will ever be served, for him to be experiencing the agony of hell.”
Ellie quirked up one brow at her new friend. “He might be the only one who can identify his victims.”
“The world is safer if he’s dead,” Jillian insisted.
“Don’t worry. If he gives me half a reason, I’ll take him out myself.”
16
I glared at the familiar number on the landline screen. I almost let it go to voicemail, but I knew it was inevitable that he would obsessively redial my number. I was in no mood for his nonsense.
