by Rita Herron
“She was strangled.”
“So the killer set her on fire to cover evidence,” Ellie surmised. She turned to the arson investigator. “Do you agree with these findings?”
Max Weatherby gave a nod, his deep brown eyes somber. “The fire’s point of origin was the spot where the woman’s remains were found. Meaning she wasn’t caught out in the wildfire and couldn’t outrun it. Her body was intentionally set on fire.”
“So now we have a homicide and ritualistic behavior. But until we ID her and know about her family, there’s not much we can do except check missing persons reports. See if someone is looking for her.” Ellie placed Katie Lee’s photo on the whiteboard then wrote her name below it. “Now for our second case, the death of eighteen-year-old Katie Lee Curtis.” She summarized all the information she had learned so far, then added the names of the family members, the church, and the teens who’d discovered the girl’s body.
“I spoke with her parents, who were understandably upset.” She described the family dynamics, the fact that everyone she’d interviewed about Katie Lee described her as quiet, bookish, with no real friends.
Dr. Whitefeather filled them in on the autopsy report. “It’s my opinion that the girl was struck from behind then pushed. Again, the fire was set after her death.”
“Any persons of interest?” Captain Hale asked.
Ellie gave a noncommittal shrug. “The teens we talked to at the scene didn’t suggest anyone, and the counselor at school only mentioned her being friendly with Will Huntington. Her father insisted she didn’t date. But his relationship with her was strained, and he’d warned her off Huntington.”
“How about a girlfriend? Or possible female love interest?” Heath asked.
Ellie chewed the inside of her cheek. “So far, nothing, but we should keep an open mind.”
“Maybe some girl’s boyfriend showed an interest in her and that girl got jealous,” Bryce pointed out. “Could have been a cat fight.”
“That doesn’t fit,” Ellie pointed out. “This killer planned the murder. The symbolism of the stones and the fact that he had to carry them with him suggests he’s smart and methodical. This was not spontaneous or a crime of passion.” Ellie gestured toward Katie Lee’s journal. “Katie Lee kept a diary. The entries are short, but she felt like her father hated her. The school counselor said she’d inquired about college scholarships, so she wanted to pursue her education. Apparently, her father didn’t approve.”
“Geesh,” Captain Hale muttered. “Hard to believe some people still have that mindset.”
A chorus of mumbled agreements floated around the room.
“Mr. Curtis was extremely strict with his daughter,” Ellie continued. “It’s possible she turned outside the family for affection. Will Huntington is a possibility, but we have nothing to confirm that yet. He attended Ole Glory Church just as the Curtises did and knew Katie Lee from there, although so far, he hasn’t been very helpful. But the circle of stones we found around the two bodies mimic the ones in the graveyard at Ole Glory.”
“Then we may be looking at someone who attends that church,” Deputy Landrum said. “I heard the reverend sees himself as some kind of god. Apparently he has cameras around his house and there are whispers that he has people watching his followers to make sure they toe the line.”
Ellie grimaced. “Go over that list of parishioners and run background checks. Maybe you can talk to some of them, too.” She paused, clearing her throat. “We can’t rule out the father at this point. Something was going on behind closed doors, something that feels wrong.” And her gut was telling her that it had everything to do with Katie Lee’s death.
30
“I obtained a sample of Mr. Curtis’s DNA and sent it to the lab, along with samples from Mrs. Curtis and Martin Curtis,” Ellie said quietly. “Next, I’ll have a chat with the preacher at Ole Glory.”
“We’ll do it together,” the sheriff said.
“I can handle it.”
Irritation flickered in his green eyes. “He might talk to me before he would you.”
Ellie gritted her teeth. Bryce had a point. The good old boys in the area understood and stuck together like a pack of rats. “All right,” Ellie conceded. “Let me talk to Deputy Landrum for a minute and then we’ll go.”
Bryce nodded, then stepped aside to make a phone call. Heath was deep in his computer, combing social media for mentions of Katie Lee and her brother.
She claimed the chair beside him and lowered her voice. “Anything on Gillian Roach?”
Heath ran a hand through his dark blond hair. “She worked with Raintree Family Services for thirty-five years. The agency started with a handful of volunteers, a counselor and two social workers and, with grant money, has grown to a staff of fifteen. They handle foster care placements and adoptions for babies and at-risk kids, connect victims of domestic violence to the Family Justice Center, and offer counseling resources.
“Gillian’s coworkers spoke highly of her, said she was dedicated to helping children find loving homes although she never married or had children of her own. She talked about retiring next year.”
“Good work,” said Ellie. “She could have made enemies working with DV victims. Dig deeper and see if there were any threats against her or if she had any specific problems with a client lately. A disgruntled parent who wanted their child back, an abuser or stalker who’d come after his child or the mother, someone with charges filed against him.”
“On it.”
Apprehension slithered through Ellie. Was it possible the burn victim was Gillian?
“Focus on the Curtis murder for now,” Ellie said, hoping the forensic specialist would have an ID on the other victim soon. “Her family wants answers.”
And so did she.
31
Rose Hill
Eula Ann Frampton worried the beads around her neck as she hobbled over to the rose bushes she’d planted years ago. The beads were supposed to ward off evil, just as the dried herbs and garlic pouch she kept in her house. Yet she felt the dark forces slithering through the woods and town as if nothing could stop it from spreading.
Dried, dead petals from her prized roses lay scattered on the ground, black and crumbling among the withering grass.
Just as things were crumbling around her.
Her bones creaked as she stooped down to pull the faded blossoms from the bush. The roses had always bloomed without her tending to them, the soil rich with fertilizer. But the drought had dried the ground, turning it hard as stone.
She walked over to the side of the house, snagged the hose, turned it on and sprayed the bushes and ground, watching the water soak into the dirt.
Below lay her secrets.
Secrets she feared were about to come back to haunt her.
The minute she’d seen the news about the Curtis girl, she’d had a terrible sense of foreboding.
Maybe her death had nothing to do with what Eula knew.
After all, she thought she’d taken care of the problem long ago. Had she missed something?
No. It couldn’t be.
There had been other murders on the trail the last few months, as if the devil himself hid in the dark forests with those who lived in the shadows. This one might be a new breed.
As the water drenched the ground, her tears flowed. She’d started life young and hopeful. In her mind, she saw her husband on his knee proposing. Saw the promises in his eyes and heard the love in his voice.
All lies.
Lies that had destroyed them.
32
Ole Glory Church
The parsonage was a brick ranch house built on top of the hill overlooking the church and adjoining cemetery. A giant dogwood stood in the middle of the yard, although the beautiful flowers had past being in bloom.
Ellie had the distinct feeling that Reverend Ike Jones liked being perched above his church so he could monitor his parishioners’ every move.
“Let me take the lead
,” the sheriff said as he knocked on the door.
The door opened, saving her from having to pretend she didn’t mind. The preacher’s wife, Ruth, stood on the other side with a tentative smile, dressed in a long black skirt and white blouse similar to the ones Mrs. Curtis wore.
“Mrs. Jones,” Bryce said, flashing one of his deceptively charming smiles. “I’m Sheriff Waters and this is Detective Ellie Reeves.”
“I know who you both are,” the woman said, her brows pinched. “And I know the reason you’re here. Josiah called my husband for counseling after you were at his house. It’s so terrible what happened to poor little Katie Lee, God rest her soul.”
So, they’d expected the police and were prepared.
Mrs. Jones fidgeted with the top button of her blouse. “But I don’t see how we can help you.”
“It’s routine that we talk to everyone who knew the girl and her family,” Bryce said.
Mrs. Jones fiddled with her blouse again, looking wary.
“Please,” said Ellie. “Since you know the family personally, I’m sure you want to do everything possible to help us find out what happened to her.”
Bryce cut her a sharp look, but Ellie ignored him as the preacher’s wife stepped aside and gestured for them to enter. Pictures of Jesus and the Last Supper hung on the wall, along with framed cross-stitched pieces boasting Bible verses. Wood floors, dark paneling, and heavy drapes gave the living room a closed-in feel and a musty odor permeated the space. Reverend Jones might like to know what was going on with his members, but he obviously didn’t want anyone seeing in his own house.
“Your house feels warm and inviting,” Ellie lied. “Do you have children?”
A flicker of sadness deepened the grooves beside the woman’s eyes. “I’m afraid we were not blessed that way. But God had his plan for us.”
“I’m sure he did.”
Bryce was shooting her odd looks, but she wanted to establish a rapport with the wife before her husband joined them.
“Please sit down in the parlor and I’ll get the reverend. He’s in his private study working on the sermon for Wednesday night. We have a supper that night as well.”
“How often does the church meet?” Ellie asked.
“Wednesdays and Sundays for services, although we offer special prayer times every night. Our church is always open.”
Ellie and Bryce situated themselves in the hardback chairs flanking the fireplace while Mrs. Jones briskly walked from the room down a dark hall.
“Interesting that she calls him the reverend instead of Ike,” Ellie commented as she noted the old-fashioned organ in the corner. Stacks of sheet music and gospel song books were piled on a small table beside it. She wondered if the wife played.
Bryce gave her a wry look. “At least she didn’t call him the prophet.”
In spite of her animosity toward Bryce, Ellie’s mouth twitched. “True.”
Footsteps echoed as the couple approached. Ellie had seen the preacher in town, and although Mrs. Jones said the church was open to everyone, he was closed-off. Judgmental. His probing eyes held accusations of sin and damnation, not forgiveness and tolerance.
Bryce stood and offered his hand, but the man simply looked at it and kept his distance, his narrow jaw clenched so tightly Ellie expected to hear bones cracking. He was over six feet, thin with wiry graying hair, and wore a plain black suit that looked worn and as austere as the man himself.
“Mr. Jones—” Bryce began.
“It’s Reverend Ike,” the preacher cut in. “And I know why you’re here so don’t bother with pleasantries.”
A muscle ticked in Bryce’s jaw. “Right. There’s nothing pleasant about this visit. We are very saddened over the loss of Katie Lee Curtis and know you are as well.”
“Yes, no family should have to bury their child,” the reverend said.
“Can you tell us your impression of Katie Lee?” Bryce asked.
The man glanced at his wife for a brief second, then claimed the wing chair opposite them. His wife took his lead, seating herself beside him, her hands smoothing down the folds of her skirt.
“She was a nice girl,” the reverend said. “Quiet and well behaved.”
Bryce kept a neutral tone, “What about friends at church?”
“No one specific. Her parents encouraged her to attend youth group, and she came a few times, but she didn’t really join in.” He scratched his chin with one finger. “I saw her talking with Will Huntington a couple of times though and knew that was trouble.”
“Why do you say that?” Bryce asked.
“That boy made a mockery of our beliefs,” the reverend said. “He needed rules. I advised Josiah if he wanted to keep his daughter holy, he should keep Will away from her.”
“And he tried?”
The reverend glanced toward the closed drapes then back with a detached look. “He did his best.”
“That must have upset Will and Katie Lee,” Ellie cut in. Bryce went still, but Ellie didn’t back down. “Did either of them ever come to you to talk about the situation?”
“If you’re asking if I counseled the teens, no. I offered my services, but both declined.” Anger glinted in his eyes as his gaze met Ellie’s. “But if they had, I would have warned them they were on the wrong path. That if they dishonored their parents and God, they would go to hell for eternity.”
Just what every teen wanted to hear.
“Mrs. Jones, can you add anything?” Ellie asked. “Maybe Katie Lee or her mother talked to you?”
“My wife has nothing to say.” The reverend stood, buttoning his jacket. Mrs. Jones had dropped her gaze to her hands and twisted them together.
“If Katie Lee had listened, maybe she wouldn’t be dead,” the reverend finished. “Now, it’s time for both of you to go. I have a sermon to prepare. Mr. Curtis wants me to speak at his daughter’s funeral, and my loyalty is to him.”
Without another word, he left the room, dismissing them entirely.
33
Somewhere between Pigeon Lake and Stony Gap
“Fuck, Ellie, what was that about?” Bryce bellowed as soon as they drove away from the parsonage.
“I was trying to get some answers. And that man is hiding behind a bunch of archaic beliefs.”
Bryce pinned her with a look of contempt. “Does everything have to be about your feministic ideals?”
“It’s not about me. It’s about Katie Lee and who killed her. I think the reverend knows more than he’s telling us.”
“And now he probably won’t talk to us again because you pissed him off,” Bryce snapped.
“He wasn’t going to talk anyway,” she said quietly. “You heard him. His loyalty lies with Mr. Curtis and his principles, however skewed they are.”
“Next time, I speak to him alone.”
Ellie gritted her teeth as she passed the cemetery, and the series of standing stones, just like the ones surrounding the victims. In her mind, she could hear the gospel choir singing about the blood of Jesus. But it was Katie Lee’s blood that had her worried and angry. That girl had been crying out for help in her journals. Yet no one had listened.
Ellie had to be there for her now.
A strained silence fell between her and the sheriff as they drove past farmland and several chicken houses. Bryce said nothing as he parked by her car and she got out. But she’d bet her next paycheck he’d head over to Haints for a beer, his nightly ritual.
Exhaustion clouded her brain as she climbed in her Jeep and drove the short distance home. Her phone buzzed just as she let herself in her house.
She quickly connected. “Detective Reeves speaking.”
“It’s Marty,” the boy said in a hushed voice. “I think you should know something.”
“What is it, son?” Ellie asked.
His voice was muffled when he spoke. “My father… he wouldn’t have anything to do with Katie Lee. It was like he hated her for some reason.”
“Do you know th
e reason he was standoffish with her?”
He hesitated, then mumbled no.
Tension vibrated over the line. “Is there something else?”
“Yeah, they argued night before last. It got bad. I heard Dad say he was calling the reverend to set up a time for some kind of sin-cleansing ceremony. Katie Lee started crying and said she wouldn’t go.”
Ellie’s lungs tightened. “What happened after that?”
The boy’s labored breathing rattled over the line. “He said she didn’t have a choice. That he knew the minute she was born that she was full of sin. And he’d get it out of her somehow or she couldn’t stay in our house anymore.”
From what she’d heard about the girl, she was practically an angel. And how exactly had her father planned to get the sin out of her?
“Marty, did your father go out at all later that night?”
“I don’t know,” Marty said, his voice cracking. “But he came in early the next morning, when I was getting breakfast. He said he’d been to talk to Reverend Ike, to pray for Katie Lee. He seemed sweaty and his clothes were dirty, and he was upset. He went up to his room and shut himself in.”
The reverend hadn’t mentioned seeing Mr. Curtis. If he hadn’t been at home or church, where had he been?
34
Crooked Creek
Two hours later, Ellie sat on the back deck of her bungalow overlooking the mountains. They looked gloomy tonight as they climbed toward the clouds, stars fighting through the haze of lingering smoke that seemed to pervade the sky long after the fires had burned out. The vibrant green of the trees was tinged with brown from the lack of rain, flowers sagging beneath the weight of the humidity.
Consumed with what might have gone on behind closed doors in the Curtis house and at that church, her mood was just as ominous.
After she and Bryce separated earlier, the sheriff had met with the town council about the Fourth of July festivities—part of which involved him riding on the float with the winner of the Little Miss Bluff County and Miss Teen Bluff County pageant. Meanwhile, she and Heath had divided up the list of parishioners at Ole Glory and paid them visits.
