Wildflower Graves: A totally gripping mystery thriller (Detective Ellie Reeves Book 2)

by Rita Herron

  Her arm throbbed and she felt weak from losing so much blood. Blood he’d taken from her in vials. He’d been collecting it ever since he locked her down here, though she had no idea what he was going to do with it. Maybe he was just going to drain her blood until she had none left, leaving her to slowly die.

  Ellie had probably gotten the message by now. She’d come looking for her, and the thought comforted Shondra.

  Memories of lying in the dark as a child, listening to the sound of her father beating up her mother, taunted her. His drunken rages, breaking dishes, punching walls. Why did some men use their fists to make a point?

  Hysterical laughter bubbled in her throat as she recalled the rage flaring in her abductor’s soulless eyes when he realized she wasn’t going to obey or beg or kiss his ass.

  Closing her eyes, she forced her breathing to steady. He’d gone out again. He would be drinking. Would come home with another woman tonight. One a day for seven days, he’d told her.

  Which day would she die?

  The sound of an old furnace rumbling—or was it thunder?—resounded through the damp basement. There were more rooms down here, other cages.

  She’d heard the other women he’d brought here, crying and screaming, begging for their lives. He’d killed them anyway. There was no doubt about that.

  She had been here the longest, she thought, although she couldn’t be sure. What was he waiting for?

  Closing her eyes in case she needed energy later to fight him––and you can bet she would fight if she got the chance––her father’s sneering voice echoed in her head.

  “You’re trash, girl. You ain’t going nowhere.”

  Anger strengthened her resolve. She’d proved him wrong. She had made it as a cop. She had arrested countless cowards like him.

  And she’d found love. It was a surprise, even to herself, but a few months ago, she’d met Melissa. Melissa with soft hair the color of raw honey. Melissa with sky-blue eyes and the voice of an angel.

  Melissa, who she’d told all her secrets to.

  Shondra had expected her to run as far away as she could, or to look at her with disgust or pity.

  Instead she had pulled Shondra into her arms, declaring her love. That was only two months ago, but now they were planning to move in together. They’d even talked about a wedding.

  Fear pressed against her chest. She was so close to having the family she’d always wanted, she couldn’t die now.

  The last night she’d seen Melissa haunted her, regret consuming her. Melissa had been hesitant to tell her family about the two of them. “They just won’t understand,” she had said through tears. “They’re old fashioned and my dad is set in his ways. They’ll probably disown me.”

  “If they do, then you’ve got me,” Shondra argued. “We’ll make our own family.”

  At that, Melissa had burst into tears and run from the room. The next morning when Shondra got up, she was gone.

  Shondra squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could take back the things she’d said. She hoped that Melissa could forgive her––that she’d get to see her again. That she’d live long enough.

  Just then the screech of the door made her tense, pulling her back to her dark surroundings. He has returned.

  Footsteps. Shuffling. Another woman’s scream piercing the air.

  “Let me go. Why are you doing this?” The woman’s cries tore through the silence. “Please don’t hurt me…”

  Tears blurred Shondra’s eyes as she heard the grating sound of another metal cage being slammed shut in the dark.

  Twenty-Nine

  Marvin’s Mobile Home Park

  Ellie grabbed the wall to steady herself.

  Find me proof, Bryce had said.

  This was proof. The fucking phone call was proof. The bastard had been inside Shondra’s house––the daffodils were his calling card.

  Fingers shaking, she snatched her phone. She should call the sheriff, but he’d already told her he was tied-up. Probably tying one on, was more like it.

  So she called her boss. Shondra needed her to do her job, not fall apart.

  Captain Hale sounded winded when he answered. “Ellie?”

  “The killer has Deputy Eastwood, Captain.”

  “What?”

  Ellie heard the sound of Captain Hale cracking his knuckles. Struggling to steady her breathing, she explained about the phone call and what she’d found at Shondra’s.

  “Did you call Sheriff Waters?” Hale asked.

  “Yes, I told him about the message, but he blew me off. Said to bring him evidence.” She kicked at the floor with her boot. “So I came to Shondra’s and found it.”

  “I’ll let him know, then send a team to process Shondra’s trailer right away.” He hesitated. “And Ellie, for God’s sake, be careful. If this killer sent you those messages, he may be watching you.”

  A shiver rippled through her. He was right. The killer wanted her involved in this case.

  That was his first mistake.

  Later, while the crime team—fresh from the body at Ole Glory—processed the place, Ellie pulled herself together enough to canvass the neighbors. That turned out to be a bust.

  The lady two trailers down had coke-bottle glasses and a hearing aid. The man on the other side of Shondra was three sheets to the wind. The two millennials next door claimed they’d been at a keg party the night Shondra disappeared, and the middle-aged couple with the two Labradors across the street had been at the ER because the man had a gallstone attack.

  Exhausted and with her head crowded with images of what might be happening to her friend, Ellie returned to the trailer and found one of the crime techs deep in Shondra’s closet.

  “Does Shondra have any kin or family to call?” he asked.

  “No,” Ellie said. “She lives alone.”

  “Are you sure? There are clothes in a size two and others in size twelve.”

  Ellie checked the tags. He was right. The smaller sized clothes were also a more feminine style than the staple jeans and shirts Shondra wore.

  Ellie scratched her head, trying to remember what Shondra had said about meeting someone. But then Penny Matthews had gone missing, and after that, she’d forgotten to ask her friend about it.

  “She may have a girlfriend,” she murmured. “Check her phone when you get it charged and let me know what you find.”

  He nodded, and Ellie went to the kitchen, finding the calendar Shondra kept on her desk. Quickly thumbing through it, she saw several notations about meeting a woman named Melissa White. A phone number had been scribbled below one of the dates.

  Lifting her phone from her pocket, she stepped onto the front stoop. It was 11 p.m., and Melissa might be in bed. But she couldn’t put off the call. If Shondra had met her abductor before she’d been taken, Melissa might have helpful information.

  Dialing the number, Ellie saw that the crows were still perched on the power line, their eyes darting towards her as if they were trying to tell her something.

  Something she didn’t want to know.

  Shivering, she yanked her gaze back to the driveway, tensing as a woman answered in a clipped tone.

  “Hello?”

  “Is this Melissa?”

  “Yes.”

  “Detective Ellie Reeves. I’m at Shondra Eastwood’s home, and I found your number.”

  A shaky breath rattled over the line. “You’re that cop friend of Shondra’s, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, and—”

  “What is this about? Is Shondra okay?” Melissa cut her off, her voice rising with panic.

  “I don’t know. When did you last see her?”

  “A little over a week ago,” Melissa replied. “But I’ve been calling and calling and she hasn’t answered.” A cry escaped her. “I thought she was just mad and not picking up because we had an argument.”

  “What did you argue about?”

  “It was stupid,” Melissa said, tears lacing her voice. “We were talking a
bout moving in together, and she wanted me to tell my parents, but I knew they wouldn’t approve.” So they were together, and Ellie had been barely paying attention. Guilt crushed her. “What happened to her?”

  Ellie inhaled sharply and glanced at the crows, unable to shake off the antsy feeling. “Did Shondra mention anything strange happening to her lately? Did she say anything about someone stalking her or bothering her?”

  “No… I mean she was upset with her boss, but that was nothing new. Now tell me what’s going on.”

  “I don’t want to panic you, but I think she’s been taken.” Typically, she would hold back information, treat Melissa like a suspect. But this was no ordinary case or an instance of love gone awry––she’d received a message from the killer himself.

  And he had her friend.

  Thirty

  Crooked Creek

  Two hours later, Ellie sank onto her couch, still reeling from shock. Her hands were shaking as she dialed her therapist’s emergency number. Kennedy had given it to her the first time they’d met and promised they could do an online health video-call session anytime she needed.

  Ellie had balked, thinking she’d never resort to calling it.

  But with her best friend’s life in the hands of a serial killer, she had nowhere to turn.

  With a pang, she remembered the first time she’d met Shondra. Ellie had tracked a meth dealer to a house in the hills and Shondra had shown up at the scene because of a domestic call at the same address. The meth dealer’s brother was in the main house beating up on his girlfriend, and Shondra had charged in, tough as nails, trussed him up like a pig and dragged the creep out by his hair.

  They’d bonded on the spot.

  A message told her the therapist was ready, so she phoned the number and seconds later, Kennedy Sledge’s face appeared. “Hello, Ellie. What’s going on?”

  Tears flooded Ellie as she pictured the murder scenes with the grave of wildflowers, and she explained about Shondra’s abduction.

  “You and Deputy Eastwood are friends?”

  Ellie nodded and took a sip of the vodka she had poured for herself, the ice clinking. “Yeah. I guess I don’t make friends easily. Seems like I piss everyone off.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Butting heads with Sheriff Waters just like I did some of the trainees at the police academy. Shondra and the sheriff go at it, too. He thinks he’s superior because he’s a man.”

  “But you stand up to him?”

  “Hell, yeah,” Ellie muttered. “I’m just as good a cop as him, or better. Except…”

  “Except what, Ellie?”

  “Except that I was so blind to my father’s secrets that two little girls nearly died before I figured out the truth.” Emotions choked her. “And now what if I’m too late for Shondra?”

  Thirty-One

  Wednesday

  Bluff County Medical Examiner’s Office

  An hour of sleep, at a push. That’s all Ellie had gotten.

  She’d rest later. After all, what was loss of sleep when god knows what Shondra might be suffering?

  Ironically, bright sunshine shimmered across the concrete parking lot of the morgue, and sunflowers poked through the planters flanking the grassy area where benches offered seating and a reprieve for workers to escape the gruesome happenings inside.

  Still, even the sun couldn’t alter her mood this morning. Anxiety coiled inside her as she entered the morgue, followed by shock when she found Special Agent Derrick Fox waiting outside Laney’s office.

  Seeing him in person again resurrected memories of their one night together, wreaking havoc on her already frayed nerves. His dark hair was combed back from his forehead, his charcoal shirt accentuating his deep brown eyes. He stood ramrod straight, his jaw clenched as if he didn’t want to be here.

  Remember, he hates you. And he destroyed your family.

  Although really, had he? Her family had done that themselves with their decades-long deceit.

  Ellie folded her arms. “What are you doing here?”

  A small sardonic smile tilted the corners of his mouth. “Your boss called me,” he said in a gruff voice.

  Damn, she hadn’t seen that coming. “You could have sent another agent.”

  His brow rose, some emotion she didn’t recognize flickering in his eyes before his professional mask slid back into place. “You didn’t know he asked for me?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve been busy.”

  He cleared his throat. “He called me early this morning, said he thinks you have another serial killer in Bluff County.”

  Ellie gave a clipped nod. Although technically it took three kills to constitute a serial killer, these crimes had the markings of one––and they had to act fast. “It looks that way. He also abducted one of our deputies, Shondra Eastwood.”

  “You know that for sure?” Derrick asked.

  “I got a phone call from her, asking for help. Then I searched her place and found signs of foul play.” She hesitated as the images of the daffodils floated through her mind. “Signs matching his signature.”

  “Which is?”

  “I’ll explain all of it later,” Ellie said. “I need to brief the sheriff and Deputy Landrum once we leave here.” She might as well do it all at once.

  The door opened, and Laney appeared, a frown crinkling her forehead. She looked exhausted and Ellie realized she must have worked through the night. “I’m ready, Ellie.” A hint of recognition shone in her eyes as she glanced at Derrick. “Agent Fox, I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “Captain Hale called him.” Ellie gestured toward the office. “Do you have autopsy results? An ID?”

  Laney nodded, her deep chocolate eyes troubled. Ellie and Derrick followed the medical examiner inside the autopsy room. The acrid odor of body waste, decay, blood and formaldehyde assaulted Ellie as they approached the lifeless woman lying on the metal slab. A sheet covered her lower extremities, and Laney had carefully executed the Y incision. Pans holding the woman’s organs sat to the side, and her breasts were exposed, where Laney had removed the remains of the implants. Her skin was blue and marred with black and purple bruising, both on her neck and torso. The young woman couldn’t be more than thirty years old and had her entire life ahead of her.

  Just like Shondra did.

  Derrick remained rigid, his expression giving nothing away, while Ellie used a handkerchief to cover her mouth and nose. She didn’t know if she’d ever get used to the heinous smells in the morgue, or the sight of a human body dissected.

  “What can you tell me from the body?” Ellie asked, gesturing toward the corpse.

  “I sent her bloodwork, prints and DNA to the lab.” With gloved hands, Laney lifted one of the implants. “These helped identify her. Her name is Carrie Winters.”

  Adjusting her glasses, Laney carefully opened the woman’s mouth with gloved hands. Using a pair of tweezers, she removed a small folded piece of paper, then dropped it into a metal bin.

  Derrick made a low sound in his throat as Laney used the tweezers to unfold it.

  Tuesday’s child is full of grace.

  “You know the nursery rhyme?” Ellie asked Derrick.

  Arms crossed in front of him, he nodded. “It goes through all seven days of the week.”

  “Exactly,” Ellie said. “It appears our killer is using the nursery rhyme as a blueprint for murder.”

  Thirty-Two

  Sunlight glimmered off the asphalt as Ellie drove toward Crooked Creek Police Station. Derrick was on her tail, and she’d stalled answering his questions until the briefing. There was no need to repeat herself a dozen times, and it wasn’t like she’d invited him.

  No, her captain had done that.

  He told you to take some time off.

  Didn’t he think she could handle the investigation?

  Forced to drive past the sheriff’s office in Stony Gap on the way, Ellie noticed the street in front of the courthouse had been blocked of
f. Protestors had gathered, waving signs and shouting as they marched back and forth. Her stomach lurched at the sight of the signs urging the prosecutor to come down hard on her father.

  Randall Reeves is a child killer!

  Reeves deserves to rot in jail.

  Give him the death penalty.

  She spotted her father exiting the courthouse with his attorney, and recognized parents of some of the Ghost’s victims. She saw Darnell Purcell, the brother of little Millie Purcell. The man looked stoop-shouldered and frail now, his wiry brown hair standing out in tufts. She’d heard he’d had drug issues after his sister disappeared but was supposedly in rehab now. Philip Paulson, Ansley Paulson’s father, looked angry as he stomped back and forth. Ginger Williams’ mother, Lynn, held a poster with her daughter’s face on it, a reminder of her devastating loss.

  In spite of the shouts against him, her father held his head high. But he looked tired, worn down, and… guilt stricken.

  Sympathy tugged at Ellie. Despite everything, occasionally sweet memories of her childhood broke through her anger. The day she’d learned to ride her bike, she’d been terrified of going downhill. But he’d run along beside her and steadied her, holding onto the seat until she was finally ready for him to let go. In middle school, she’d been dared to jump from a rocky ledge into the swimming hole where all the kids gathered, and she’d broken her foot. He’d held her hand in the hospital while they’d rushed her into surgery to set it. In high school, when her independent streak had surfaced and she’d rebelled against Vera’s smothering, he’d been her rock.

  Pulling her gaze from him, Ellie drove on and turned down a side street before she was seen by the mob then sped onto the winding road between the two small towns.

  Once upon a time, everyone in Bluff County loved and respected her father. He’d been a town hero. He’d taught Ellie how to shoot a gun and how to read maps when they ventured onto the trail and its treacherous terrain. She’d wanted to be just like him when she grew up.