Paul gulped. “How did he know?”
Ellie interjected. “When you dropped off my rental car after I left Lancaster, he’d already abducted Troy. He could’ve left the bar to watch the apartment. Did you stop by my place on your way back?”
“Yeah, to see if you were home, but no one answered the door,” Paul replied. “He’s been on me very since? Holy crap. Now, He’s after Mom and Dad? You need to them everything.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Ellie replied. “The more people know, the greater chance someone tells the police.”
“But this is our parents,” Paul argued.
“That doesn’t make them perfect,” Ellie replied. “We need to move. Do you mind driving us, Paul?”
“Why me?” he complained, like how he used to when they were kids.
Ellie handed him the keys anyway. “Do you have anything you need from your hotel room?”
“I didn’t bring anything.”
That made life easier.
As they marched to the truck, Ellie spoke quietly to Peaches. “Was it wise that I told him?”
Peaches fixed his bandage under his beanie. “He’s not called the cops on us, so that’s something. But he does seem like the type of person who will run his mouth the first chance he gets.”
Ellie’s shoulders slumped. She knew Paul wouldn’t betray her, but someone he tells the story to could. Oh well, Ellie said. What’s done is done. Before they climbed into the truck, Ellie asked Peaches one more thing. “Is it possible to check on Troy?”
Peaches’s pitying smile said it all. “If the police are looking for you, they’ll check his hospital room too.”
“Thought as much,” Ellie replied.
Peaches gave her a reassuring grin. “He’ll make it.”
She wasn’t so sure about that.
They climbed into the truck. Paul turned the key in the ignition and they left Northampton behind. The pain pills knocked out the detective in the backseat while Ellie laid her head on the window and rested her eyes.
None of them were aware of the unassuming grey minivan trailing behind them three car lengths back.
5
PARENTS
Ellie dreamed she was dying.
The hooded man had strung her up by rope bindings, balled his gloved hands into fists, and whaled on her in some dark, forsaken place. She was looking into his off-colored eyes and studying the countless scars across his pale skin. His voice echoed. “You took something that wasn’t yours… Justice.”
Ellie awoke with the right side of her forehead pressed against the window, a stiff neck, and the stitched knife wound on her cheek stinging. She touched the tender wound. Her fingertips brushed over the rigid stitches. She winced.
The inside of the truck cabby was dark just like the night outside. Paul kept one hand resting lazily on top of the steering wheel and the other on his cup of gas station coffee tucked in between his thighs. With heavy eyelids, he watched the road and yawned.
Ellie glanced in the backseat. Detective Peaches was stretched out the best he could from door to door, clenching his beanie on his chest. His eyes were closed and his brown hair was pressed flat from behind under the beanie the whole day. The bandage around his upper forehead had a dark spot above the knot. Ellie remembered how the hooded man kicked in the pulped wound until the detective lost consciousness. The more Ellie thought of her masked adversary, the sicker she felt. The man needed to be stopped. She’d failed to kill him during their previous encounters. He was stronger than her, more brutal and without remorse. How do you stop someone like that? I must become them. Ellie thought with iron resolve, but she hated that idea. How would the cycle of violence and evil end if she was only going to perpetrate more violence and evil?
“Sleep well?” Paul whispered.
Ellie shrugged. “I haven’t slept well since I got back from the honeymoon.”
“It’s amazing you could even rest at all,” Paul replied. There was a sort of respect to his tone. “If I’d gone through what you have in the last few weeks, I probably would’ve locked myself in my room and never come out.”
“Believe me, there are days,” Ellie replied.
Paul glanced over at her and then back at the road. “It doesn’t seem like it.”
The comment took Ellie by surprise. “Okay?”
Paul sipped his coffee. “Sis, if your story is completely true, you’ve been throwing yourself into harm's way every chance you get. Why?”
The adrenaline, the thrill of a deadly encounter, and the idea of pursuing her chosen destiny were the answers, but Ellie didn’t know how to say them without sounding loony. Peaches would understand more than her little brother. If the detective wasn’t the same way, he wouldn’t have risked so much to help her. Unless he had an ulterior motive. Perhaps he liked Ellie in a romantic way, like Skinner had teased a while ago. Perhaps he was in this for the long con and only told Ellie what she wanted to hear. Ellie realized that she’d spent so much time thinking that she never replied to her brother. Instead of making up some excuse, she kept silent and watched the world blur by in the cover of night.
The sky went from black to a dark purple but the sun still couldn’t be seen. Down the country roads of Lancaster, Pennsylvania, Ellie neared her parents’ house. The Smiths lived in a picturesque ranch home with a big barn, a hill for sledding, and a few acres of hay that had already been cut and put into bales. The house was dark and quiet, and the rooster had yet to crow. Troy pulled into the driveway, but didn’t shut off the car.
“I guess you’ll do the explaining,” Paul declared.
Ellie gave him a disconcerting look. “We can’t tell them anything.”
“That’s stupid,” Paul protested. “What’ve if the killer comes for them? How will they be prepared?”
Ellie leveled with her brother. “Listen, if they call the cops, I’m in big trouble.”
“So I have to pretend everything is normal?” Paul shook his head. “They’re our parents.”
“You never had a problem lying to them before,” Ellie reminded him.
Paul tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “You said it yourself. This is life or death.”
“That’s why you need to get them out of town,” Ellie replied.
“Where?”
Ellie thought about it. She didn’t need specifics. She only needed them to be safe. “Anywhere but here.”
“But, how can I convince them?” Paul asked, growing agitated.
“I don’t know, but this isn’t going to end until that killer is behind bars or he’s killed us all.” Ellie looked her brother in the eyes. “I just need you to trust me. Can you do that?”
Paul sighed deeply. His eyes were bloodshot and etched with lines from the five-hour drive. “I’ll try.”
Ellie frowned. “No try, Paul. You must.”
Paul reluctantly nodded. “What are you going to do?”
As he asked the question, Detective Peaches sat up in the backseat. The sleep hadn’t fully left him. Nevertheless, he looked at Ellie, awaiting her response.
Ellie’s heart rate quickened, but she kept her voice calm and determined. “I’m going after him.”
Paul’s lips slightly parted. He glanced back at Peaches. The detective nodded in agreement to Ellie’s words.
“Can I trust you to take care of Mom and Dad?” Ellie asked him again.
“Yeah,” Paul declared. “I’ll make sure they’re safe.”
He opened the door of the truck and swung one leg out before looking over his shoulder. “You sure you don’t want to leave with us?”
Ellie liked the sound of getting away from it all. Her body ached for rest, not just physical but emotional and spiritual. She bit into her lower lip as she weighed her options. After a moment of consideration, she decided. “Go, Paul. I need to finish this.”
Her brother turned back to her and gave her a strong hug. “Goodbye, sis.”
Leaving the keys in the igni
tion, Paul left the vehicle and ventured to the house’s front door. Once she saw him enter the home, she walked around the front of the car and sat in the driver seat. Peaches moved up to shotgun, and they hit the road again. As her parents’ house faded in the rearview, Ellie’s chest tightened. She wondered if it would be the last time she would ever see it.
They arrived at a diner that Ellie’s parents used to take her to. It was a small mom-and-pop place that opened early and closed before 2. Ellie and Peaches both ordered coffee and typical breakfast fare. There were a few truckers and early riser farmers scattered throughout the place but, overall, the restaurant was largely empty and quiet.
Peaches blew on his coffee, sending steam wafting up into his tired, handsome face. His five o’clock shadow was now at six o’clock, and his piercing, trustworthy eyes had the look of a weary traveler.
“Sleep at all?” Ellie asked as she waited for her Eggs Benedict to arrive.
Peaches made a shimmying motion with his right hand. The flesh on top of his hand was scabbed. He noticed Ellie’s interest. “It feels like a lifetime ago since we found apartment 42A.”
Ellie cracked a smile. “I must’ve aged twenty years since then.”
“A shootout will do that to you,” Peaches said agreeably. He turned his hand so the top faced Ellie. “At least we match now.”
Ellie brushed her fingers on the scab on her neck. Both her and Peaches were grazed by bullets. Ellie wondered how things would’ve been different if Peaches would’ve shot the hooded man when they first discovered him at apartment 42A. Would the death portraits have stopped or was this power something she’d keep with her until the end of her days?
“Do you believe in fate?” Peaches asked, out of the blue.
Ellie replied. “I believe there is an order to our lives.”
“And this power you have? Do you think that’s fate?”
“Could be,” Ellie replied honestly. “Something like this doesn’t happen to normal people. And if it does, I’ve been living in the dark for a long time.”
“So why you?” Peaches asked genuinely. “Out of the seven billion people on the planet, why was Ellie Batter, thirty-two-year-old painter, chosen?”
Ellie watched cream swirl on the inky surface of her coffee. With red-rimmed eyes, she looked at Peaches. “I have no idea. I was hoping finding this killer would get me some answers, but…”
“What?”
“Maybe he’s just as ignorant. Maybe whatever, whoever gave me this wants me to figure out its meaning on my own.” Ellie replied.
“See,” Peaches snapped his fingers and pointed at her. “That’s something that makes sense to me. It’s personal that way. Real, you know?”
“How about you?” Ellie asked. “What do you believe?”
“Speaking candidly,” Peaches started, letting his vulnerability show. “I don’t know sometimes.”
“That’s a vague answer from such a confident man,” Ellie pointed out.
“I believe we’ve got to make the best of what we got. I like the idea of God, but sometimes I feel like… we’re alone.” Peaches held the handle of his mug but didn’t take a drink. Ellie could see him becoming consumed by his own thoughts. “Anyway, whether your power is some boon, a curse, or merely coincidence doesn’t matter as much as what you do with it. Going after this man, saving lives, that’s a beautifully terrifying thing. If there is a purpose for you getting this ability, this must be it.”
“Yeah,” Ellie agreed, but she doubted how hard she would pursue this killer if she already knew the answers to all of her questions.
Peaches’s phone rang. He withdrew it from his jacket pocket. “Detective Peaches speaking.”
“It’s Skinner,” the man’s gruff voice sounded through the phone line.
“A little early for a social call, Detective. What’s happening?” Peaches asked.
Skinner scoffed. “A little birdie flew over the cuckoo nest.”
“When did she escape?” Peaches asked, staying calm.
“Don’t play coy,” Skinner warned. “I know you checked out of the hospital early. Mrs. Batter went missing a little while after.”
“Slow down,” Peaches told him. “First of all, how did Ellie escape? Wasn’t there a night guard?”
“There was,” Skinner replied. “But someone tampered with the security cameras and must’ve used the guards key to free her.”
Peaches chuckled.
Skinner grew frustrated. “What’s so funny?”
“That you would blame me.”
“Why wouldn’t I? You’re the only person on God’s green earth that wants her out on the streets.” Skinner grunted. “I may be unruly, but I actually care if she’s murdered. The safest place for her is in a facility like that. Now you’ve made her vulnerable.”
“That’s too bad,” Peaches replied, taking a bite from his breakfast plate. “Because I don’t know where she is.”
“Right, okay,” Skinner replied sarcastically. “Then where are you?”
“In my bed,” Peaches replied.
“Funny,” Skinner said smugly. “I don’t see you here.”
Peaches hovered his egg-speared fork in front of his mouth and then lowered it to the plate. “You’re not allowed to be in my house.”
“And you’re not allowed to be out of bed,” Skinner replied. “I like the newspaper painting-thing in your living room, by the way. Very classy.”
Ellie felt chills. She reminded herself to breathe.
Peaches’s confidence turned to seriousness. “What do you want, Skinner?”
“The girl,” Skinner replied coldly. “You turn her in, I put her somewhere safe where she can’t compromise this investigation, and we forget you were ever involved. Let’s not forget that you’ve recently suffered some brain damage that has seriously impaired your judgement.”
Ellie and Peaches met eyes.
Skinner spoke up. “You still there?”
“Yes,” Peaches said firmly.
“Yes, what?”
“You can have her,” Peaches said.
Skinner was speechless for a moment. Ellie, too.
Peaches continued. “If we work together to stop this killer.”
“You probably can’t even see straight, let alone handle yourself in another encounter with him.”
“I’m much more capable than you think,” Peaches boasted.
Skinner replied. “You’re not in a place to negotiate. I could report your supposed act of heroism and get you and Mrs. Batter behind bars at the drop of a dime.”
“But you won’t.” Peaches said.
“No,” Skinner replied. “Too much work. Bring her in, and we’re solid.”
Ellie glared at the detective. He winked at her and changed his phone to his other ear. “Deal. Tell me what you’ve discovered so far?”
Skinner hesitated, “Our art collector friend, Andrew Maneau, hasn’t been returning our calls.”
“That’s a shame,” Peaches replied.
“We followed up on your report about the kid he and the other victims attacked, and may have found a link to a Missing Persons case twenty-two years ago,” said Skinner.
“If whoever he hurt died because of the assault, that may be why Andrew’s not answering,” Peaches theorized.
“That’s my theory also,” Skinner agreed. “We’re sending the local sheriff down to the mother’s house for answers.”
“Why’s that?” Peaches asked
“She lives in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. I sure as hell am not making that drive,” Skinner replied.
“Do you have her name?” Peaches asked.
“Gwyneth Barksdale,” Skinner said.
Peaches repeated it to himself and then to Skinner. “I’ll be down at the station in a few hours with you-know-who.”
“I think you should bring her in n--” Peaches hung up before the other detective could finish speaking.
Ellie glared at him. “You turning me in?”
; Peaches smiled slyly. “Why would I do that? I told what Skinner what he wanted to hear, and he told us what we needed to know. We should hurry up before that the local officer arrives at Gwyneth’s place.”
“We don’t know where she lives.”
Peaches smiled slyly again. He rushed out to the truck, grabbed his laptop bag, and returned. He booted up the police database, put in Gwyneth Barksdale into the search bar, and found the woman’s record and address. Taking their food to-go, they left a fat tip for the waitress and sped down the rural road. By the time they reached Barksdale's double-wide trailer, the sun was coming out. The home was one of many trailers and small homes lining the street. Much of the surrounding land was hay fields or the occasional cluster of trees.
Ellie checked her face in the dropdown mirror. She wore no makeup and her hair was in a tizzy. Peaches handed Ellie her black ball cap from the suitcase she brought from home. She slipped it on and slid her short ponytail through the back. They locked up the truck and approached the front door. The windows were dark and closed in by blinds. Wind chimes clanged softly in the spring wind. The trailer looked hollow and drained of life, just like the woman who answered the door. She was in her in early sixties and dressed in overalls on top of a grey T-shirt. Her eyes and slinky hair were the color of soot, and her face was hardened by years in the sun.
“Who are you?” The woman sized Ellie and Peaches up as they stood before the open doorway.
Peaches flashed his badge and made a brief introduction. He followed it up by inquiring about the woman’s missing son.
The woman’s hardened facade softened as her eyes glossed over. “Son and daughter.”
The revelation took Ellie by surprise. Andrew never mentioned a woman. What else was he hiding?
Gwyneth led them into the trailer. There were dishes in the sink. A basket of clean clothes sat on the couch. Much of its contents had been taken out and was in the process of being folded. There were pictures on the walls and various lamp stands flanking the sofa and recliner.
Stolen Secrets: A Collection Of Riveting Mysteries Page 28
