Girls In White Dresses: A Detective London McKenna Novel

by Alex Gates

  Simon lurched. I flinched. My heart stilled, bracing for the shot. My vision darkened in the surge of panic. He didn’t shoot.

  His mistake.

  I gripped the rock from under my knee. Dug my fingers into the soft dirt.

  Pulled.

  And it was free.

  “You’re going to die, Detective. Answer the question.” Simon tapped my chin with the gun. I met his disturbing gaze again. “How long did he keep you?”

  I answered honestly. “Three weeks.”

  “What did he do to you?”

  “You’re sick.”

  “I imagine he was worse.”

  That was true. “He took me captive. Tied me down. Sliced off my flesh, an inch or more at a time. Fried it in a pan. Ate it like bacon in front of me.”

  “Was he a breast or thigh man?”

  Neither.

  He aimed for my stomach.

  And I still nearly retched thinking about it.

  “Why didn’t he kill you?” Simon demanded.

  I hated going back to those memories. My hand curled over the rock, keeping me focused, grounded in the reality.

  He was gone.

  I was safe.

  And once I got out from under Simon’s gun, I’d continue to live my life free of his control.

  “He kept me alive for entertainment,” I said. “He liked talking to me. Said I was the only one who ever tried to understand him.” A stupid idea. “I thought I could be a psychologist to him, help him see the err in his ways.” My throat closed. “Instead he kept me alive, made me watch as he kidnapped and tortured another girl.”

  “He roasted her up?”

  In a variety of ways. “He was a cannibal. Of course he killed her. He tortured and killed dozens of women…” I breathed through my mouth, fearing I’d still smell that sweet char of human flesh. “But he never forced any of the women to marry him. See, he might have been a sadistic freak…but even he could score his own dates.”

  “You little bitch—”

  I launched the rock towards his groin, figuring at worst, I’d hit his gut, and at best…

  Simon doubled over.

  Bullseye.

  I surged to my feet, crashing into him at full speed. He curled his fingers around the gun as we fell. A shot rocketed off. Missing me. Missing him.

  Too close.

  I came down on his wrist, bashing my fist into his chin to stun him. He rolled, but it opened the pressure point on his arm. A solid jab, and his grip loosened. The weapon fell.

  I reached.

  His hand gripped my thigh, hauling me backwards. A swift kick held him in the snow as I dove for the gun. He was faster, bigger. He batted it away and dragged me to the ground.

  My chest heaved. Arm bled.

  I wasn’t stupid. Simon was a behemoth of a man. Overpowering him wasn’t an option. I needed the gun.

  But it scattered. We crawled, hand over hand for it. Kicking and punching. He attempted to headlock me. Ended when I bit hard into his arm, tearing at the flesh.

  His howl of pain gave me the chance. I abandoned the gun, rolled for one of the broken tree limbs littering the clearing. The heavy wood soaked through with snow, dead from the winter and green with moss.

  I didn’t wait. The branch cracked against Simon’s back first, flattening him to the ground.

  Then I brought it onto his head.

  He collapsed into the dirt.

  I hit him again, just to be sure.

  He stayed down, groaning. I knelt on his back and quickly cuffed his hands.

  “You have no idea what you’ve done,” he warned. “You’ll never save them. They all belong to us.”

  “Not anymore.” I kept my weight between his shoulders, twisting the cuffs just to make sure he knew how screwed he was. “Simon Goodman…you’re under arrest.”

  27

  You can ask me why I do the things I do.

  But you won’t like the answer.

  -Him

  How many times did I have to break up this family?

  I hesitated outside of Anna Prescott’s motel room. The baby cried—sleepy wails easily soothed with Anna’s expert rocking.

  She obviously loved the baby.

  And why wouldn’t she? All of the mothers loved their children. That was a bond nothing could break, even kidnappings and forced marriages.

  Problem was, they’d bound together. Now that the men had scattered, and the women were removed from the farm, the women had only each other for support.

  They’d need help adjusting to life—real life.

  And the baby…

  I supposed that custody battle between Anna and Nina Martin’s parents would be brutal.

  I knocked—three times. The voices hushed.

  “It’s Detective McKenna…London. Can I speak with you?”

  I expected the door to stay closed. Simon’s wife, a twenty-eight-year-old woman who answered to Mary, had collapsed when told of her husband’s arrest. The scars on her arms and crooked nose revealed a not-so-happy marriage, but she’d wept as if she’d lost her soulmate.

  Mary was the only one who ever spoke an accusation at me. She’d tugged at her blonde hair, fell into Anna’s arms, and wept.

  Why are you doing this? What have we ever done to you?

  The door opened. Anna rubbed the baby’s back.

  “Hi.” I twisted the envelope in my hands. “Got a minute to talk?”

  “Did you find him?” Her voice cracked with loneliness and fear. “Tell me now, in case I must inform the others.”

  I wished we’d found Jacob. The DA even offered Simon one hell of a deal to flip on him.

  He’d refused. Stayed silent.

  If they’d had let me into the pen with him, I’d had made him talk. But James was the one who refused me. He thought Simon would be combative with a woman interrogator.

  He hadn’t been a bundle of sunshine rolling in the snow either.

  But Simon hadn’t talked, and wherever Jacob Goodman fled was well-hidden, probably even from Anna. The way she wept?

  She thought she’d never see him again.

  Didn’t she know how lucky she’d be if it were true?

  “I’m not here about Jacob,” I said. “Is it okay if I stay for a minute?”

  Anna stepped aside, casting a glance over her shoulder to Mariam. She did a poor job of studying her Bible. The book fell into her lap as she looked longingly at the television—unplugged and dark.

  “Do your lessons.” Anna instructed her. “We’ll talk about the verses once I’ve helped Detective McKenna.”

  Mariam nodded, her oversized sweat pants and sweatshirt swallowing her whole. The little girl was hardly a blonde spec on the bed. We still hadn’t learned her real name, where she’d come from, and no entry in the Missing Persons database even came close to matching her.

  Mariam was a complete mystery—and no one would have missed her if Jacob and his family had finished their wedding ceremony.

  “Is it about that CPS again?” Anna offered me a seat at the tiny table by the window, greeting me with all the hospitality she could muster, as if the cheap motel were her own lovely kitchen once more. “Please, Detective. I understand why the police and everyone fear for these girls, but we’re family. Even if they believe those horrible things about our husbands, they have to realize we have more experience with raising children than anyone.”

  That was the truth. “Anna—”

  “Just let me keep Mariam and the baby near? Until this is sorted out. Until he…”

  “Jacob isn’t coming home.”

  Anna swallowed, but she remained optimistic. Or delusional. “I’ve kept my faith for this long. My goodness, if Moses led his people for forty years through a barren desert, the least I can do is keep my spirits up. We’ve a roof over our heads and food in our bellies. In time, this misunderstanding will be forgotten.”

  I agreed with most of it. “No one will kick you out into the cold.”

 
“Of course not. Especially since we have a home waiting for us.” Anna smoothed the baby’s hair as she fussed. “I didn’t build Jacob’s farm, but I’ll protect it the same. With or without him.”

  Resilient to the end.

  And kind.

  Anna hadn’t blamed anyone. Hadn’t fought or resisted.

  That sort of submission was strange to me. She’d allow anyone to command her—husband or police. I gave it a few more days before the surrender became sweet relief, when she finally embraced her freedom and took a bite of food she had chosen to eat, when she took a step without asking his permission, when she first said no without a reprimand.

  Soon she’d understand that we had helped her.

  But first, I had to break her heart. I pushed the envelope onto the table.

  “Those are the DNA results,” I said. “The baby is Rebecca—Jonah and Nina’s daughter.”

  Anna turned the baby to sit on her lap, facing me. The little cutie gave me a wide, drooly smile.

  “What happens now?” she whispered.

  “That’s up to you. Are you ready to talk?”

  The answer was no, but Anna was far too polite. “I’m not sure what I can offer you. You know our way of life. Jacob made our decisions. All of our decisions.”

  “I understand.”

  “You have Simon in custody. You should speak with him.”

  I leaned forward, playing her a bit more aggressive than I had in the past. She needed that push, that guidance. Someone to tell her that it was okay to help us.

  Someone to replace the orders Jacob had given.

  “See, that’s the problem,” I said. “Simon isn’t talking.”

  It didn’t seem to surprise her. “He’s too proud. That’s the sort of vice they warn about in the deadly sins.”

  “Then you have to be the one to begin this. If you talk, the others will talk too.” I stayed still, my voice the only force in the room. “I know about the kidnappings. No one is in trouble except for the men who did this.”

  “No one should be in trouble for bringing a family together.”

  I could work with that. “But I don’t know who the family is. I can’t identify all the girls and women.” I reached for the baby, squeezing her chubby fingers. “If someone had taken Rebecca…wouldn’t you need to know what had happened to her? Where you could find her again?”

  “Nothing will happen to her.” Anna held her tighter. “I’ll protect her with my life.”

  “So would the mothers of the other girls who have been taken. Their families must be sick with worry. Your family is worried.”

  “Jacob is my family. These girls are my family. We’ve been together for years.” Her eyes glistened, threatening to tear. “What about us? We’ve already lost the men we love. Are we forced apart too? Because of what they did?”

  Closer. It was the first-time Anna had ever indicated that Jacob had done something wrong.

  I could use it. I could play it.

  “Tell me about Rebecca.” I crossed my legs and relaxed. It worked.

  Anna breathed deep. The color returned to her cheeks. “What do you want to know?”

  “I understand how she was born,” I said. “Jonah is Jacob’s youngest son. He was old enough to marry?”

  “Detective.”

  “And Nina—Rachel—was chosen as his wife.”

  She was careful, each word deliberate. “They loved each other. If you believe nothing else, believe in their love.”

  Stranger things had happened on this case. “They were together. Rachel got pregnant. She gave birth. But…things changed, didn’t they? With Jonah?”

  “I suppose…”

  “He lost his way?”

  The conversation seemed painful. “Jonah was such a free spirit. He never deferred to his father. Questioned everything. The farm. The chores. Our ways. Even his faith.”

  “He denounced his faith?”

  “Oh, he believed in something. We all do, Detective. Even you.” She smiled. “I know you are hurting. I can see it. I can feel it in you. But you’ve turned from the one who could help you the most.”

  Unless she was talking about James, we had a vastly different worldview. “Was it a lack of faith…or a woman who drew him away?”

  Anna stiffened. Struck a nerve, but it wasn’t her sin to bear. “Both. It wasn’t the first time Jonah ran away from home.”

  How ironic. Runaways escaping the farm as fresh ones were delivered. “Jacob couldn’t have liked that.”

  “No…” Anna said. “Jonah had a gift for carpentry, but he hated working with his hands.” She smiled. “He was only a few years younger than me.”

  “Must have been weird being his step-mother.”

  “A little. Jonah made it easy though. He wasn’t like a son…more like a younger brother. Someone impetuous. We used to talk all the time.”

  Her voice turned wistful. I hadn’t realized how close she was with Jonah.

  “What’d you talk about?” I asked.

  “He used to tell me stories about wanting to get away. To see the world.” She sniffled, but she didn’t let herself weep. “When he was sixteen, he was whittling in the barn, away from all the noise and kids. Had a little model train he’d carved from wood for his cousin. A birthday present. He set it down to dry, and one of our mares—a real ornery gal—grabbed it, bit it in two, and stomped on the rest. Jonah would never take a switch to a horse, but he was so mad he decided—this is it! That was his final straw. He packed his bags in a rage and started walking.”

  “Did he get far?”

  “Only far enough to realize that he’d been too upset to pack a pair of comfortable shoes. He came limping back up the road five hours later, grumbling, but his feet too hurt to even throw a proper tantrum. Still mad as a yellow jacket, but he dumped his bags in the stables and stuck his feet right into the water trough. Jacob found him there, but so did the mare. Gave him a nip right on his blistered toe. Jacob thought it was enough divine retribution. Didn’t punish him.” Anna looked down. “Maybe he should have.”

  “Jonah sounded very gentle.”

  “The gentlest of Jacob’s sons,” she said. “It wasn’t good for farm work and decisions though. Our way of life is hard, and it requires a firm hand. Jacob was right not to send him to college. He kept him close to home.”

  “Why?”

  “Because…” She shook her head. “Lord forgive me for talking about those who have passed.”

  “Jonah would want his story to be told.”

  “Not this one…” Anna whispered. “Jonah liked the things our family shunned. Television. Movies. Vulgar music.”

  I said what she was unwilling to admit. “Women?”

  Her words trembled. “We didn’t realize what had happened until it was too late. He’d fallen in love with a woman outside of our community.”

  “But he was married to Rachel.”

  She was careful. “No. Rachel was too young. They were…spiritually committed.”

  “Is that what it’s called?”

  “Rachel loved him very much. They formed a bond.”

  “But she was forced to marry him.”

  “She cared for him.” Anna held the child closer. “Can’t you see what their love created?”

  “But if he loved her, why have an affair with Cora Abbott?”

  The question only darkened the circles shadowing her eyes. “I ask myself that every night. I suppose he met her, fell for her, just like any other man and pretty woman. Rachel was right for him, but he wanted to explore the world.” She cursed herself, the first harsh word I’d ever heard her utter, and it directly only at her naivety. “I should have stopped him. Talked to him. I could have prevented…”

  “Him leaving the farm?”

  “He took Rachel too. He thought…he thought if he could return her to her old home, he’d be free to be with that woman. But their bond was sealed by creating Rebecca. This was God’s will, Detective. Not ours. Marriage is a gi
ft between a man and woman. Unbreakable.”

  I hated to broach his death with her so close to tears, but she had the answers. “Jonah committed suicide.”

  “Yes.”

  “Who killed Cora Abbott and Nina Martin?”

  She stiffened. Probably assumed she hid it, but I saw the flash of fear, the curl of her lip, the twitch of her eyebrow. “What do you mean? Jonah. It was a tragedy.”

  “Eve, you know that isn’t true.”

  “I thought…this was settled. The Homicide detectives—”

  “They got it wrong.”

  “H—how—”

  “He couldn’t even beat a horse who had destroyed his work. Do you really think Jonah would kill the two women he supposedly loved?”

  Anna pushed away from the table. “I never thought he would.”

  “Do you think he would murder the mother of his child?”

  “No one ever considers such things—”

  “Do you really think he’d leave his own daughter orphaned and commit a sin as great as suicide?”

  “I…Detective, I don’t know what you believe happened—”

  “Cora and Nina were murdered by the same man who coerced Jonah into killing himself.” I pointed to the baby. Anna no longer cradled her. She wrapped her in her arms. Hid her. “Jacob threatened Rebecca, didn’t he?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “That’s why you’re afraid to let her out of your sight. That’s why you took her. You’re protecting the baby because you thought Jacob would harm her to blackmail Jonah and Rachel into returning.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “Jacob killed those women, didn’t he?”

  Tears rolled over her cheeks. She shook her head, too violently.

  “My husband would never do something like that.”

  “He’s already kidnapped and raped you.”

  “Don’t use that word.” Her words wavered. “I think you should leave.”

  No way. Not now.

  Not when I was this close.

  “You saw it, didn’t you?” I pressed harder. “You watched Jacob losing control over his son. Jonah would never listen. He fell in love with a woman outside of the farm, a woman Jacob hadn’t personally selected for him. And nothing he did could return Jonah to the flock. His own son slipped further and further from his control. And when Jonah returned Rachel to her parents…” I stood, forcing Anna to look at me. “Jacob feared the worst. He thought Jonah would go to the police. He thought Jonah would reveal how the family had been kidnapping girls to become child brides.”