by Rita Herron
“You do, don’t you, Dad?” Martin said, earning him another warning look.
“I will pray for your forgiveness for this,” Mr. Curtis said.
Ellie didn’t need or want his prayers, but she contained her reaction, then removed swab kits from inside her jacket. She pulled on gloves and ripped open the first package, taking some small measure of joy in the hateful man’s discomfort.
“Open your mouth,” she said.
He balled his hands into fists by his sides, then did as he was told, and she swabbed his cheek. Then she stowed it in the baggie, sealed it and put it in her pocket.
After she’d taken samples from Mrs. Curtis and Marty, she angled her head toward the son. “Marty, why don’t you show me Katie Lee’s room?”
As the boy escorted Ellie up the short staircase, she heard Mr. Curtis reading from the book of Matthew about the unforgiveable sin of blasphemy.
Martin seemed shaken but cooperative as he directed Ellie to his sister’s room.
Before she went in, she paused. “Marty, if you know something you aren’t telling me, if Katie Lee confided in you, or if something happened at the church, please speak up. I know you cared about your sister and you tried to protect her.”
“I didn’t do a very good job of that, did I?”
Emotions choked his voice, and Ellie wanted to comfort him. Instead, she pushed a business card into his hands. “You can call me anytime, day or night. I’m so sorry for your loss. I can’t bring Katie Lee back, but I want to help find whoever hurt your sister and get justice for her. That much I can do.”
He nodded, tears filling his eyes, then he ducked into the room next door which, judging by the model airplanes on the shelf, was his bedroom. Maybe he collected them because he wanted to fly from this place. She felt suffocated just being inside, and she couldn’t imagine being a teenager and living under this kind of control. They made her family look like saints.
If she had a child, what lengths would she go to in order to protect them?
24
Ellie stepped into Katie Lee’s room, not surprised that the furnishings were minimalistic. The bed was an antique white iron with a solid black comforter. There were no colorful decorations, frilly girly items, posters of her favorite band, movie star, or sports team, or pictures of her and her friends. She didn’t see a single stuffed animal or the usual remnants of childhood.
The room looked sad and lonely, which only confirmed everyone’s description of the girl. Pulling on gloves, Ellie looked inside the closet. Jeans, sweatshirts, and three identical black skirts and white blouses. Her church clothes. Tennis shoes, a pair of winter boots and plain black flats to go with the church outfits.
Ellie checked the top shelf for a shoe box or anything that might be a hiding place but found nothing.
The desk held school notebooks, along with pencils and pens. Curious, she flipped through the notebooks. Past assignments in math and English, a history paper about the Trail of Tears, but no notes or doodlings of a boy’s name, no hearts or mentions of a crush.
She tucked them back in place, then moved to the bed, checking underneath. Nothing but dust bunnies and a pair of socks the girl had kicked off. Lifting the mattress, she raked her hand underneath it.
Her fingers brushed something hard, and she realized it was a small notebook. She pulled it out, opened it and flipped through the contents. Not exactly a diary, but it appeared to have short stories Katie Lee had written along with scribbled notes.
A noise brought her gaze to the door, and she saw Mrs. Curtis standing in the doorway, looking forlorn and grief-stricken. Ellie’s heartstrings twisted.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” the woman asked, her voice sharp.
“Did you know your daughter wrote short stories in here?” Ellie asked, lifting the book.
The woman’s face wilted. “She talked about wanting to be a writer one day. But Josiah told her that was nonsense.”
No wonder she’d hidden her musings.
“I’d like to take this and look through it,” Ellie said. “Maybe she wrote something inside that might help us.”
Looking shell-shocked, Mrs. Curtis gave a little nod. “Can I have it back when you’re finished?”
“Of course,” Ellie said.
But she wanted to see what was inside first. Maybe somewhere in the girl’s writings, she’d mentioned something that would lead them to her killer.
25
Haints Bar, Bluff County
The locals filled the tables and stools at the bar. Drinking and carrying on about the bodies that had been found. Wondering if that detective, Ellie Reeves, was capable of solving yet another crime and how many people would die first.
That sheriff was here, too. He was boozing it up as if he didn’t have murders in his county.
Too bad he wasn’t on the list to die.
A smile curved his mouth as he mentally ran through the names in his mind.
One he would take tonight. The woman had her secrets. But she’d been asking too many questions. Nosing around.
She had to be stopped.
Ticktock, Ticktock.
The chime on his watch sounded and his brain clicked.
He slid onto a stool, intrigued by the bar that had been built overlooking White Lilies Cemetery.
The waitress smiled hesitantly as she delivered drinks to a table of horny retired cops. This bar was a watering hole for the police force. Coming here was risky, but he knew how to sip his whiskey without being caught on camera, and no one knew who he was. With the booze flowing, no one cared. They certainly wouldn’t remember him. With the way he was dressed, he fit right in.
At a nearby table, the retirees were discussing the wildfires that had been raging across the trail, speculating on who had set them and why. One was sure it was teens. Another suggested a thrill-seeking pyromaniac. A third thought they were a smokescreen for other crimes, like the bodies left at Winding Rock and Moody Hollow.
Katie Lee’s face flashed behind his eyes. The fire hissing around her body. The circle of stones erected to honor her.
He closed his eyes, the flames sweeping him back in time. To his childhood. The gatherings. The crackle and spitting of the fire. The stone markers circling the ground.
He’d prayed for forgiveness for what he’d done back then. He’d prayed for it when he lit the match and set the girls on fire.
Cheers erupted from a table to the left. Apparently, some dude had proposed to his girlfriend. Not a chance in hell it would last. They never did.
The waitress flitted through the crowd to the bar where she picked up a tray of IPAs then delivered them to another table, her cleavage spilling over her low-cut top and drawing ogles from the patrons. She seemed jumpy tonight, her hands shaking as she set the beers on the table. She kept looking over her shoulder as if she knew she was being watched.
Her shift ended in a few hours.
All he had to do was sip and wait. Make sure she didn’t leave with one of the other men.
She was a sweetheart. Pretty and flirty and full of life.
But that would end soon.
He motioned that he wanted another whiskey, then sat back and watched her work the room. The sound of the chime taunted him, and he glanced at his watch again, murmuring her name to himself.
Ticktock, Ticktock. You’ll be dead by two o’clock.
His fantasies consumed him as his fingers curled over the matchbook on the bar. He could already hear the sound of her screams mingling with the sizzle and popping of the fire as it began to eat her hair and bones.
26
Crooked Creek
An hour later, Ellie couldn’t shake the image of Katie Lee’s parents’ agony as they’d stood by their daughter’s body at Glory Days Funeral Home. Although it was late, the father had insisted on seeing her before the mortician worked on her, which had been horrible for his wife. He had stood by silently, his body rigid, his eyes filled with an icy brittleness that
was hard to understand.
Ellie struggled not to be judgmental as he shed no tears. Neither did he touch his daughter while the mother bowed her head against Katie Lee’s bruised and burned face, sobbing her heart out. Marty’s body shook with anguish, and he clung to his mom.
No mother should see her child like that, and Mr. Curtis was cruel to insist his wife be present. She couldn’t help wondering if it was his way of punishing her for something.
It had been all Ellie could do to rein in her own emotions. Disturbed by the tension in the family, she’d called her mother on the way home just to hear her voice, as if the cracks in Katie Lee’s family made her anger toward Vera dissipate slightly. The house plans for the rebuild were under way, and Vera wanted her to come by and look at them when she had time.
But this murder case took precedence. She was still waiting on news about the charred bones found at Winding Rock. Identifying them was a complicated process.
Too restless to sleep, she’d called Gillian Roach’s number again, but nothing. Determined to focus, she made a cup of decaf, then settled on the couch to study Katie Lee’s journal.
As a teen, she’d kept a diary and would have been furious if anyone else had read it. On the door of her room, she’d hung a sign that said ‘Keep Out’, and written ‘PRIVATE’ on the front cover of her journal. She had a feeling Katie Lee had kept this one tucked beneath her mattress for the same reason.
She’d kept her secrets stored in here.
Opening the journal, she skimmed the first few entries and found short stories scattered throughout about a young girl leaving her home for great adventures.
Interspersed between the fantasy stories, she found a common theme—the girl in the stories was repressed by her family, desperate to soar on her own.
But in a separate section she’d forgone the fiction and documented her personal reflections.
My father hates me. He won’t even look at me at the table. He just ignores me like I’m not even there
Ellie’s heart squeezed, and she flipped the page.
I heard Mama crying tonight in the bedroom. Daddy said something about what happened years ago, but I couldn’t hear what it was. Then he said he wished they’d never had me.
Anger tightened Ellie’s body. Why had Mr. Curtis felt that way?
Curious, she turned another page.
Today Reverend Ike told Daddy that he found the perfect place for the commune. That if I strayed or kept talking about college, he would take me there and show me the way. That he could get the evil out of me and break me.
Was that how Katie Lee had gotten those bruises on her wrists and ankles?
27
North Georgia State Hospital
“Rock-a-bye baby, in the treetop,” Mabel cradled her baby close as she sang. “When the wind blows, the cradle will rock…”
The child whimpered, and she patted her back, rocking her back and forth and doting on her tiny face and that dainty chin that quivered when she cried. Her baby was perfect. A small round head, pink coloring, button nose, and a mouth that worked vigorously to drink milk from her breast.
“What did I ever do before I had you?” Mabel whispered.
The baby cooed and looked up at her as if she knew her voice. A deep love swelled in her heart. “Yes, I’m your mommy,” she murmured as she planted a soft kiss on the little one’s cheek. “I’ll love you forever and ever and always.”
The door opened and the nurse came in, her expression so austere that a shudder coursed up Mabel’s spine.
“It’s time,” the stern woman said.
Mabel shook her head back and forth. “No… don’t take her… I love her.”
“I’m sorry, Mabel, but this must be done.”
She cried out and clung to her infant, but the woman pried Mabel’s hands from around her child and lifted the baby away.
“No!” Mabel cried. “Please, I want her.”
But the nurse ignored her, stepping away. Tears streamed down Mabel’s face as the woman carried her sweet little princess out the door. The baby’s scream echoed in her head, and she curled into a ball on the bed, a hollow emptiness opening inside as pain engulfed her.
28
Haints Bar
The waitress kept her eyes peeled as she finished her last table and went into the staff restroom to change out of her work outfit.
All evening she’d been ill at ease. She didn’t intend to accept any offers for a cocktail or rendezvous tonight. She couldn’t shake the memory of Ellie Reeves’s statement. If a murderer was stalking the mountains, she wanted to get home as fast as possible.
Just as she stepped outside, she spotted a shadow lurking beneath the awning.
Nerves on edge, she ducked back in and decided to exit through the front door. Maybe the owner would walk her to her car. She’d never asked before, but with two bodies being found lately, surely he wouldn’t mind. He was behind the bar, finishing counting the register. But the sheriff was still on his favorite stool, polishing off another whiskey.
He looked up at her and grinned, that gleam in his eyes. The one that she’d succumbed to the summer she’d graduated high school.
She didn’t intend to fall into his bed again.
“Hey,” he said with a wink. “Want to join me?”
“No, I have to get home to my daughter,” she said. “But I was wondering if you’d walk me to my car. I… thought I saw someone lurking outside.”
His flirtatious smile faded, his eyes going dark. He tossed cash on the bar and motioned that he’d follow her. Relieved, she walked beside him to the door, then he looked around outside, searching the parking lot as he escorted her to her Honda.
He paused at her car and she unlocked it, offering him a smile. One that made her stomach churn. She’d stayed away from him for a reason.
“Thanks, I guess the news about those two bodies got me spooked.”
Bryce’s gaze locked with hers, his eyes flaring. Was he remembering the past too?
She jammed the key in the ignition, started it and reached for the door. Drunken voices from the alley by the parking lot, sounded like an argument escalating. Bryce glanced that way, his body tensing before he turned back to her.
“Do you want me to follow you home?” he asked in a gruff tone.
“No, but thanks.” Her hand trembled and she shook her head, then closed the door and pulled from the parking lot.
A black pickup pulled from the lot in front of her onto the street, and she slowed, giving it time to go on, before turning the opposite direction to take the shortcut back to her house. A few cars were still out, but most of the stores were closed for the evening. The sky was gray, her breathing wheezy as she struggled to stay calm. She was just being paranoid. No one was after her.
Except… She had made that phone call. Had been asking questions…
Car lights suddenly appeared behind her, nearly blinding her. She gripped the steering wheel so hard her hands ached and maneuvered onto the road leading to her house. The car followed, closing in on her.
Anxiety tightened her shoulders, and she sped up, taking the curves too fast but desperate to get home. Another car raced toward her, and she swerved to avoid it as she crossed the line. Her tires skated on the shoulder of the road, and she swung a sharp right onto a side street.
The car behind her did the same.
Suddenly terrified, she braked quickly, causing them to do the same. Then she hit the gas and floored it.
By the time she reached the turnoff for her house, the car appeared again.
She raced up the drive, threw her vehicle into park, and snatched her phone and purse before running to her front door.
The car slowed, the beams still blinding. She peeked back to see the make and model but all she could tell was that it was a dark sedan of some kind. He flashed his lights as if to send her a message.
She fumbled with the keys, dropped them on the porch, then snatched them up. Clumsily she opened the d
oor and practically fell inside. Slamming the door behind her, she locked it and went to the window.
The car was still there. Watching. Waiting.
29
Crooked Creek
Nightmares always came for Ellie. And now there were new grisly images to add to the dreams that consumed her. Charred bones. A dead teenage girl. The flames shooting into the sky. A family that might be responsible.
After tossing and turning, stewing over the questions in her head in search of the truth until 5 a.m., she finally got up, showered and poured herself a cup of coffee in her to-go mug. Grabbing a bagel on the way out the door, she phoned her captain, requesting a meeting with the ME, the arson investigator, and the sheriff.
Two hours later, they convened in the conference room to review the two cases. Except for both bodies being burned and the circle of stones, they didn’t have a connection between the victims. They needed more information on victim number one to make a determination.
Everyone shuffled in with coffee and situated themselves around the table while Ellie drew a column to distinguish the information for each victim on the whiteboard. She started with the charred victim found at Winding Rock and turned to Laney. “Dr. Whitefeather, do we have an ID on body number one?”
“Not yet,” Laney replied. “Our forensic specialist is still working on her. But I can tell you that she didn’t die of smoke inhalation. This woman was dead before the fire.”
That means they had another homicide. She couldn’t say that she was surprised. “What was cause of death?”
