by Rita Herron
The interviews had yielded no insight into the killer but had intensified Ellie’s suspicions that all was not right in that church. The women literally clammed up. The men exerted complete control over their households.
“Reverend Ike demands loyalty,” one woman whispered. “Anyone who doesn’t follow him is banned from the church.”
“I don’t like the way he treats the young girls like servants,” an older woman named Polly had said.
Desperate for someone to bounce ideas off, but not desperate enough to do so with Bryce, Ellie called Shondra. But the phone rang four times and then went to voicemail.
Sighing, Ellie left a long message. “I think something bad happened in the Curtis house, and I thought you might have insight into the family dynamics. Maybe we can meet for coffee tomorrow and talk about it.” Sensing she’d said enough for tonight, that she had to be patient, she hung up.
The air was thick and muggy, inviting mosquitoes and gnats to party in her backyard, the air so silent you could hear twigs crackling and leaves rustling as the forest creatures scampered through the rows of giant oaks, pines and hemlocks.
Shadows darted along the paths, a few stars splintering the dark skies, bringing Ellie’s imagination to life just as they had when she was a child. Her father had told her about the recluses, hillbillies, and criminals who lived off the grid—he called them the Shadow People. Some nights, when the moon was full, she thought she saw a lone man standing at the edge of the forest looking up at her house. Sometimes she thought he was a spirit.
Tonight, the quarter moon hung low over the tops of the sharp ridges splintered like broken glass. The sound of vultures grunting and diving down into an area known as Death’s Door cut into the heavy silence.
Her phone buzzed, startling her, and she checked the number, hoping it was Shondra. Instead, it was Angelica Gomez.
Her mind raced as she debated whether to answer. She had no more details to add about the case but decided the reporter might be helpful, so she answered.
“This is Detective Reeves.”
“Thanks for taking my call. I was wondering if you have an update on the Curtis case.”
“No suspects that I can name at this time. Do you know anything about the Ole Glory Church?” Ellie asked.
Angelica hesitated slightly. “A little. I’ve been wanting to run a story about them, but my boss hasn’t approved it yet. Why? Do you think someone there is involved?”
Ellie chose her words carefully. “I don’t know, but the family attends that church, and I’m trying to learn everything I can about the preacher and their beliefs. Katie Lee also had bruises on her wrists and ankles, as if she’d been restrained. If they are performing exorcisms, that could explain them.”
“Sounds like a Manson in the making. I’ll be happy to dig into them some more,” Angelica said, an excited note to her voice.
“Thanks. Let me know what you find. But I don’t want this information released yet.”
“Understood.” Angelica paused. “One more thing, Detective. Have you decided to look into your birth parents?”
A shadow moved through the woods, and Ellie leaned forward, peering through the bushes. “Let’s just stick to the case, Angelica.”
She hung up, then went inside to lie down. Tomorrow she had more work to do. Two cases to solve.
Although sleep was as elusive and fleeting as peace these days, and she was afraid to close her eyes for fear the nightmares would come for her again in the darkness.
35
Stony Gap
A noise jerked the woman awake. Dazed and confused, she blinked to orient herself. The stairs creaked. The window rattled. Something scraped the windowpane.
Clutching the sheets between her sweaty fingers, she held her breath as she listened.
The room and hall were pitch black. But she’d left the lights on.
Cold fear clogged her throat. A squeak of the floorboards. A breath echoing in the stillness.
And then a hulking figure loomed over her.
She opened her mouth to scream, and summoned her courage to fight, but the moment she swung her fist up, a hard hand clamped over her mouth and another gripped her wrist. Pain shot through her arm and she heard the bone crack, sending nausea bolting through her.
Her eyes widened in horror as she looked up into the face of her attacker. A face covered by a black mask, only his eyes visible. Eyes that screamed a warning.
“Do you want your daughter to live?” he murmured in a sinister voice.
Tears of terror filled her eyes. She couldn’t move for the force of his heavy body on top of her, but she managed to nod her head up and down.
“Good. As long as she knows nothing, I don’t have to kill her.”
She had to protect her daughter. She’d been doing that all her life.
Her daughter’s voice taunted her. Leave me alone. I hate you!
An image of her girl as a little baby flashed behind her eyes. Her tiny rosebud mouth. That sweet little cry. Those trusting eyes.
She’d made a decision then that she didn’t know how to take back. What would happen when she was gone? Her daughter would be alone.
A sharp sting at her neck made her cry out, but then she felt her limbs going numb and her eyes closing.
If only she hadn’t asked questions. If only she’d told her girl the truth about her daddy… If only…
36
Crooked Creek
Dawn barely cracked the sky as Cord McClain sat outside Ellie’s house. He’d spent all night worrying about the blasted woman. Dammit, he didn’t like the way she tore him in knots, shattering his calm the way he splintered wood when he chopped it.
But her pale face as she’d studied the ashes of that charred body would haunt him forever. Just as seeing her nearly dying at the hands of the Weekday Killer had.
He’d felt helpless and angry, the way he’d felt when his foster father had tried to hurt one of his foster sisters. A man’s job was to protect a woman.
But Ellie didn’t want his protection. In fact, she’d be pissed as hell if she knew he’d parked himself here half the night. The sight of her on the news triggered the past, when she’d spoken out. When it had almost gotten her killed. He didn’t want to see it happen again.
Gripping the thermos of coffee he’d brought, he willed himself to be strong and leave her alone. He’d protect her with his life if he had to.
But he’d walk away, too, to make sure she was safe.
He had nothing to offer but a disturbing past that forced him to live in the darkness and the wild.
Ellie was drawn to that. But she was on the right side of good. And sometimes he questioned whether he was, whether the shadows had claimed him or not.
During the last case, Ellie had learned some of his secrets.
He hoped she never learned the rest.
She thought he was angry with her for questioning him in those murders. For doubting him. But he didn’t blame her. She had reason to distrust.
He wanted redemption, but that wasn’t on the cards. He’d settle for just making peace with Ellie.
As night turned into day, the light in her kitchen burned bright, and he saw the bedroom light flicker on. He forced himself to wait. Watched the sun rise over the tops of the mountain peaks. Birds twitter and soar across the lawn. Felt the sizzle of the summer heatwave as the sun blazed down on the asphalt. He made a quick run for breakfast then returned to Ellie’s.
Other lights flicked on in the house, then the bathroom. Still, he waited.
Another twenty minutes, and he snatched the thermos of coffee and the biscuit and sausage he’d picked up and headed to her door.
Last night he’d thought about those standing stones and the memories had launched themselves out of nowhere. He’d kept things from Ellie in the Weekday Killer case, things that might have expedited her search.
He didn’t intend to do the same again.
Even if it meant baring his soul.
37
Ellie was just about to brew coffee when the doorbell dinged, startling her. She hurried to see who would show up this time of morning.
Cord stood on the front stoop, his brooding face shadowed by morning stubble, his pacing an indication that he hadn’t slept last night either.
Running a hand through her tangled hair, she tightened her bathrobe and opened the door.
His hair looked scruffy, his expression wary. “I brought coffee and breakfast,” he said and lifted a bag from the Corner Café. “Lola sent your usual.”
Ellie’s mood softened. She’d never been able to turn down a breakfast sandwich. “Thanks. Come on in. I need caffeine.”
His shoulders relaxed slightly as he wiped his feet on the mat. So at odds with the gruff mountain man she saw on the trail.
She led him to the kitchen, and they took seats at her kitchen island, both sipping their coffee before talking.
“Thanks for bringing food.” Ellie’s stomach growled as she tore into the warm sausage and cheese biscuit. The gooey cheese melted on her tongue, a perfect combination with the hint of sage in the meat.
He shrugged, his intense expression hinting that something was going on behind those dark brown eyes. “I saw the interview with Angelica Gomez. You had to notify the family?”
Ellie nodded. “It was rough. There’s something odd happening in that household. I think it has to do with that church Ole Glory.” She ran her finger around the rim of her mug. “But you didn’t bring me food to talk about them. Or did you?”
He finished his biscuit and wiped his mouth, then took another sip of his coffee. “No, but when I was a kid, my foster father took us to Ole Glory.”
Ellie raised a brow. Cord never talked about his past. In fact, he’d kept his silence until he’d been forced to explain when he’d been framed for murder.
Cord ran a hand over his thickening beard stubble. “You’re right about something going on at that church.”
Ellie forced herself not to react, although her heart ached for Cord and how he’d suffered as a child. “What do you know?”
“Just things I saw as a kid. Whispers. There’s a basement at the church where he takes women and girls. I don’t know what goes on inside the locked room, but I snuck down there once and smelled some kind of drug.”
That didn’t surprise her. Cult leaders often used drugs to bend the minds of their followers.
“My foster father made his wife go down there once. And when she came back, she was never the same. She wouldn’t talk or make eye contact. It was like she was brainwashed.”
Before Ellie could reply, her phone rang.
She was tempted to ignore it, but with two murders to solve, that wasn’t an option. She checked the number on the display.
“I have to get this,” she said. “It’s Special Agent Fox.”
Cord’s gaze met hers, then he stood, grabbed the wrapper for his sandwich and discarded it.
“Wait,” Ellie said as he headed to the door. She wanted to apologize again.
“I gotta go. Take your phone call.”
Ellie gritted her teeth and answered the call as the ranger strode outside. Her conversation with Cord would have to wait.
The two murders on her caseload couldn’t.
38
Decatur, Georgia
Special Agent Derrick Fox stared at the replay of the interview from Crooked Creek’s Police Department as he waited on Ellie to answer her phone.
He should have slept good last night. Shouldn’t feel so restless. He’d ended the day by putting away a gang member who’d killed a family for retribution. But he’d been torn up over the sight of the toddler lying dead in his mother’s arms. Judging from the scene, she’d tried to protect the boy but the bullet had gone straight through her to the kid.
That child’s death had gotten to him bad. He’d tracked down the gang member, who still had the kid’s blood on his hands and the gun on him. He’d been bragging about the kill. Bragging, for fuck’s sake.
Derrick had exploded, and nearly beaten the bastard to death. His knuckles were still bruised and battered, and the urge to bash the man’s head wouldn’t let go.
His boss had ordered him to take some time off.
Then he’d come home and seen Ellie on the evening news. Ellie with her soft ash-blond hair and her sassy attitude. He’d noted the dark circles beneath her eyes and the slight quiver in her voice. It was so subtle no one else might have detected it, but he knew Ellie pretty damn well.
Hell, he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind since the first case they’d worked together, when she’d gotten under his skin.
Two major cases had broken in Crooked Creek in the last few months and now she had more murders on her hands.
The phone clicked, and Ellie’s voice answered. “Derrick?”
“I hope it’s not too early.”
A tense moment passed. “No, I’ve been up for a while.”
From the sound of her gravelly voice, she hadn’t been sleeping again. “I saw the news. Looks like you have your hands full with another case. Or two.” He cleared his throat. “Do you think they’re connected?”
“I think so, but don’t know how,” Ellie said. “I’m working an angle regarding the Ole Glory Church here. People are saying it’s cult-like and there’s talk of drugging parishioners. The family of the young girl, Katie Lee Curtis, belonged to it and is acting strangely.”
Derrick’s pulse kicked up a notch. “I can come there if you need my help.”
A tense heartbeat passed. “Thanks, but that’s not necessary. I’ve got it.”
She’d always been independent, but they’d become close on the first case, until their families had gotten in the way.
“I’ll look into the church,” he offered.
“Thanks. My captain’s calling,” Ellie said. “I have to go.”
She hung up without saying goodbye. Derrick walked over to the window and stared at the view of the city under the morning sun. He could see the tall buildings of the Atlanta skyline in the distance, hear the loud traffic noises and the zoom of a jet taking off at the airport. Nothing like the peaceful view of the mountain ridges in Crooked Creek.
Except it wasn’t as peaceful as it looked. What kind of killer was Ellie dealing with this time?
39
Stony Gap
Mandy Morely climbed from bed, shuffled to the bathroom, splashed water on her face, then went to retrieve her phone.
News of Katie Lee Curtis’s death was all over social media. Someone had posted a picture of her when she’d worked on the yearbook, a candid shot that captured the mournful look on her face. Katie Lee had always seemed sad and lonely.
Mandy didn’t know her well and had never made the effort. She was busy with soccer and schoolwork—trig and algebra sucked. They were like a foreign language she’d never use—she’d had to stay late a few days to get help from the teacher.
In the kitchen, she poured herself a bowl of Cheerios and a glass of orange juice and settled at their rickety table. Except the normal groaning of the old air conditioner, the house was still. Almost creepy. No smell of coffee or the shower running from her mother’s bathroom.
She rolled her eyes. Last night her mother had bugged her with a half dozen phone calls to make sure she stayed home. She had and missed meeting up with some of her friends at the Dairy Delite. Another reason she was pissed at her mom. She’d told her that she hated her right before she hung up on her.
Knowing she’d probably get grounded for life, she’d put on her headphones and listened to music until she fell asleep. She hadn’t heard a thing when her mother came in.
And now several texts from her friends said their parents had seen the news and wanted them to stay home today—last night might have been the last meet-up for a while. All for their own good, apparently. Parents were always saying that—this is for your own good. When they did whatever the hell they wanted.
&nbs
p; Frustrated to face another boring day, she tiptoed down the hall to see if her mother might be waking up. Maybe if she was nice to her, she’d take her to the mall. Probably not after last night, but she was desperate to break out of house jail.
She pushed open the door to her mom’s room and peeked inside. The bed was unmade, covers tousled. Then again, she never made her bed. The bathroom door stood open, makeup and facewash scattered all over the counter.
Her mother was nowhere to be seen.
Had she even come home last night?
Anger churned in Mandy’s stomach. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d stayed out with some strange man. How dare she hook up while she forced her daughter to ditch her friends?
Furious, she went back to the kitchen, grabbed her phone and dialed her mother’s number. The phone rang five times then the voicemail kicked in.
“I can’t believe you made me stay home and you don’t even bother to come back all night!”
Furious, she ended the call, threw on her shorts, T-shirt and tennis shoes then retrieved her soccer ball. In the backyard, she set it on the ground, then kicked it so hard it hit the back of the house and she could hear the windows rattling.
She kicked it again and again, sweating and fighting off tears as her anger mounted. If her mother really was worried about her, she would have come home last night. Or at least answered her phone. She wiped at her eyes again and slammed the soccer ball so hard it sailed over the top of the house.
She must not care about her at all.
40
Somewhere on the AT
She struggled with the ropes around her wrist as her abductor stared at her from the mouth of the dark cave where he’d brought her. They were somewhere in the woods although she had no idea where. She’d lost consciousness from whatever drug he’d given her then awakened to find herself tied up and gagged. Then he’d dropped her on the cold ground and left her.
