by Rita Herron
Ellie soothed her again. “Go on, Mandy. What happened after that?”
“She called me a bunch of times. I was so mad I told her I hated her.” Tears choked her. “That was the last thing I said to her…”
Ellie pulled the girl into her arms. “It’s okay, all teenagers argue with their mothers. But their moms know they love them anyway. Vanessa knows you love her too.”
Ellie handed her another napkin to dry her eyes. “You said her car is here?”
Mandy nodded. “And her purse and her phone… Although the battery is about dead.”
So if she was abducted, it might have happened late last night after she’d gotten home, before she had a chance to plug it in. Or… she could have been so tired she’d forgotten.
Ellie hugged her again, then eased away. “You said you saw blood?”
“In the bedroom by her… bed.” Her nails dug into Ellie’s arms as she clenched them. “You have to find her, Detective. She’s all I’ve got.”
47
The photographs of Mandy on the mantel told the story of a mother who doted on her daughter. Baby pictures, photos of Mandy with a gap-toothed smile, the little girl riding her bicycle and smiling as she held up a soccer trophy.
“Just look in Mom’s room,” Mandy said in a ragged whisper. “You’ll see what I mean.”
“Did you hear a noise or an intruder last night or early this morning?”
Mandy shook her head. “I had my headphones in when I fell asleep. And I’m used to Mom working late, so I usually sleep through her coming in.”
“Okay. Let me look around. Is there someone you can call? Another family member or friend?” Or the girl’s father, but Ellie had no idea who that was.
“My aunt, Trudy,” Mandy said.
“Okay, call your aunt while I look around.”
She left the girl and walked into the hall, then past the girl’s room. It was a typical teenage room, except instead of posters of bands or teenage idols, they were of the US women’s soccer team when they’d won the World Cup.
Vanessa’s room held a queen-sized four-poster bed, a chair in the corner covered in clothing, a dresser and a small desk. Just as Mandy said, Vanessa’s purse was there, and her phone lay on the bed. Pulling on gloves, Ellie picked it up and scrolled quickly through her recent calls. Nothing suspicious. But she would have Heath do a thorough analysis in case Vanessa had received threats.
Regret for not making more of an effort to reconnect with Vanessa washed over Ellie.
Continuing her search, she checked the wall and floor where Mandy had seen blood. Her pulse jumped when she found it. Several drops on the carpet, then some spatter on the wall as if Vanessa might have fallen or hit her head. As she bent down to look closer, she realized the blood was fresh.
48
Ellie searched the rest of the house, then Vanessa’s car and the garage for signs of foul play, but if she’d been taken, her abductor had gotten in and out without leaving a trace. Somehow, they’d done so without waking Mandy. Hadn’t Vanessa screamed for help?
She phoned a CSI team to come out and by the time she’d finished checking over the place, Vanessa’s sister had arrived.
Ellie remembered Trudy, although she’d been a few years older and had avoided her and Vanessa at school. “I encouraged Mandy to eat something,” said Trudy, meeting her in the living room, “but she won’t. Says she feels sick to her stomach.”
“She’s beating herself up because they argued last night,” Ellie said. “I tried to assure her whatever happened is not her fault.”
“Oh, goodness,” Trudy whispered. “I’ll talk to her, too.”
“Did Vanessa mention having problems with anyone lately? A neighbor? Boyfriend? Someone from the bar?”
“I really can’t say. Vanessa and I haven’t been close for a while.”
“How about Mandy’s father? Were they in touch?”
Trudy made a low sound of disgust. “I wouldn’t know that either. Vanessa refused to talk about him or tell me his name.”
Ellie mulled that over as she noticed the crime scene investigators arrive. Could the father have something to do with Vanessa’s disappearance?
“For now, I’m going to treat this as suspicious and have a team search and take prints. Trudy, can you take Mandy to your house for a while?”
“Of course.”
Ellie’s phone buzzed on her hip. It was the sheriff. “I need to take this. Please tell Mandy I’ll do everything I can to find her mother.” She pushed a business card into Trudy’s hand. “My work number and cell are on there. Call me if there’s anything you think of that might help.”
She tucked Vanessa’s phone, contained in an evidence bag, in her pocket while Trudy went to help Mandy pack.
“Sheriff,” Ellie said as she connected the call. “I assume Captain Hale told you about Vanessa’s daughter’s call?”
“Yeah,” he said, his voice deep. She bet he was hungover. “What do you think?”
“Looks suspicious,” Ellie said. “There was blood on the floor of her bedroom.”
“Any evidence of an intruder?”
“Just the blood. But a CSI team is here now.” Ellie walked outside to meet them. “I’ll canvass the neighbors if you’ll talk to the staff at Haints. You should pull security footage too in case someone was stalking her at the club.”
“Don’t tell me how to do my job,” Bryce barked.
“Then don’t drink on the job.” Her phone vibrated with another call. “It’s the captain. I need to take this,” she said, hanging up and connecting to her boss.
“Ellie,” Captain Hale said.
“I just talked to Bryce. I think Vanessa might have been abducted.”
He spewed a litany of curse words. “I was afraid of that.”
“Why? Did something happen?”
“Ranger McClain called. We have another body.”
49
Death’s Door
Afternoon sunlight barely bled through the tree branches as Ellie hiked to the summit to meet Cord. Smoke twisted into the sky in the distance and she heard the loud hum of a helicopter flying above. Her captain had warned her about another wildfire breakout. It was close by.
Firefighters were already on the scene, extinguishing the blaze and working to keep it from spreading.
She had been to Death’s Door half a dozen times over the years. It was common practice for teens to dare and goad each other into camping out there. But she mostly remembered it for the time her father took her and Vanessa. They’d snuggled in their sleeping bags while her dad told them ghost stories.
One tale was that the gate to Satan’s home was carved into the ground beneath the kudzu plants. Others claimed if you slept under the stars at the top of the ridge, you could hear the screams of the dead as they were dragged into the bowels of hell.
Stepping through the dry weeds and grass, she plowed her way up the path to the ridge. Breaking through the clearing, she saw Cord standing next to a couple. Max Weatherby was there, too, combing the area for forensics.
The young woman looked to be early thirties, her wavy auburn hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun. She sat hunched on a rock, looking pale and shell-shocked. A tall muscular man with black hair stood beside her, body taut, expression neutral as Cord spoke to him.
Brush crackled beneath Ellie’s boots as she approached. Her gaze scanned the area until she caught sight of the crime scene.
A sickening feeling overwhelmed her. Please don’t let this be Vanessa.
Cord moved up beside her, his voice thick. “You okay, Ellie?”
“Yeah. But I’m afraid of who this might be.” She explained about her visit to Vanessa’s. “We were friends growing up,” she said, blotting sweat from the back of her neck.
“Maybe you should step away from this one.”
“No, I have to work it. Stop whoever’s doing this.” She exhaled, tasting the acrid odor of burned wood and flesh. “Stay with the coup
le. The woman looks pretty shaken.”
“She is.”
Pulling herself together, she yanked on boot covers and gloves, then scanned the ground in search of footprints. Slowly, she made her way to the edge of the ridge.
Her stomach clenched. Another burned body lying in the center of the circle of stones.
Questions railed through her head. Three bodies, all burned, left inside stone circles, smoke still coiling up into the sky.
But this one was slightly different, the method of murder more complicated. A rope in a hangman’s knot was tied around a tree near the edge of the ridge. She followed the line of the rope, which stretched about fifteen feet, envisioning the crime in her mind. This woman had been hanged, then the rope was cut, dropping the body. Then someone had arranged the stones and set the fire, watching the flames destroy what was left of her.
50
Rose Hill
Eula Ann Frampton felt death in the air just as strongly as she smelled the sharp odor of burning trees and leaves. She could see the smoke winding into the sky now, thick plumes of gray, the sound of burning limbs and brush forcing the forest animals to escape the blaze that had been eating up their home.
For years, the demons had laid dormant in the mountains, but a few months ago, they’d been awakened and now she saw them in her mind, skulking in the shadows, stalking human prey just as a mountain lion hunted a rabbit or squirrel.
The air felt still, barely moving, weighed down by the record high temperatures, the heat from the fire scorching her skin as she stood on her front porch. Though it was miles from her house, she feared the flames might spread to the garden, and then her secrets might be exposed.
Secrets the gossipmongers had whispered about for years, that she’d killed and buried her husband in her own yard.
Her bitter laugh cackled in the wind. No one knew what had really happened. She hoped they never would.
Her secrets were too dark to tell, her pain too deep. Both had trapped her here on Rose Hill, just as the spirits wandering the woods at night kept her from leaving.
But no amount of prayer could bring repentance for the past. The fires of hell would turn her bones into ashes one day.
She could hear Satan’s laughter as he called her name, welcoming her home.
51
Death’s Door
Denial stabbed at Ellie as she stared at the body. A memory floated to her—Vanessa in high school on the cheerleading team, doing cartwheels and chanting as she cheered the football team to the state championship.
She remembered watching and wishing they could be friends again. But she didn’t know how. Vanessa fit in with the popular girls and was into makeup and boys while Ellie liked exploring the wilderness and reading crime novels.
Mandy looked so much like Vanessa had at that age. The last thing she wanted was to break that girl’s heart by informing her that her mother was never coming home again.
The sound of crying broke through her shock, and she glanced at the couple who’d found the body.
Cord was talking softly to the woman, while the man standing beside her showed no emotion. In fact, his cold gray eyes almost looked past them. He made no move to comfort the young woman.
A glance down below and she saw that the victim was lying face down. It was impossible to tell from her vantage point if she might have been alive and had attempted to crawl away from the fire. But the rope suggested strangulation, or if she hadn’t died from that, the fall might have killed her. She would leave it to the autopsy to confirm that.
Behind her, she heard voices and footsteps as the ME and the Evidence Response Team arrived. Hurrying over to meet them, she explained to Laney that she’d just gotten there herself.
“It’s the same guy?” Laney asked.
“The circle of stones and the fire suggest that it is.” She lowered her voice. “I can’t be certain, but I may know who she is.”
“You found an ID?” Laney asked.
Ellie shook her head, then explained about Vanessa and her daughter.
“I hope it’s not her,” Laney said, squeezing Ellie’s arm. “But I’ll request her medical and dental records for comparison.”
“Of course.”
While Laney pulled on gloves to examine the body, Ellie addressed the crime scene investigators. “Be sure and get photos of everything, including close-ups of the body just as she was found. Look for a purse, wallet, jewelry, anything to help identify her.”
While they began working, Ellie identified herself to the couple. “Your names?”
The man stood at least six three, looked like either an athlete or ex-military, and screamed alpha male.
“Ryder Rigdon, and this is Sarah Houston. We camped out last night several miles from here and were on our way back on the trail this morning when we saw her,” he said. “We called 911 right away.”
Ellie glanced down at their hands and shoes but saw no indication that either had been involved in the woman’s death. Both wore sneakers, and she spotted their footprints leading from the woods to where they were now.
“Did you touch the body or go near her?”
The woman shook her head vigorously. “No, but when we reached the clearing from the hill, we saw her.” Her voice broke and she swiped at her damp cheeks.
“What time did you set camp last night?” Ellie asked.
“We drove to the approach trail yesterday around five,” Ryder said, “then hiked to Lazy River Falls for the night. Pitched tents, grilled burgers over the fire, and turned in about ten.”
“Did you see anyone out here or hear someone by the falls when you approached?” Ellie asked.
“No,” the man said, his voice calm but firm.
“Sarah? Did you run into another hiker or see anyone else in the woods last night or this morning?”
Sarah tugged at her T-shirt, then wiped at her eyes. “No. It was pretty deserted.”
“But you two were together all night?” Ellie asked.
“We were,” Rigdon said, his eyes steely. Sarah frowned, looking as if she wanted to say something but clamping her lips together.
As she watched the interaction between the couple, something about Rigdon’s demeanor bothered Ellie. Even if he hadn’t killed this latest victim, she sensed he was dangerous.
52
A slight breeze stirred the scent of seared flesh and made Ellie’s stomach roil. Even Laney paled and turned away for a second, while Cord left to join the firefighters, who’d radioed about a family trapped in a shelter.
Gray smoke filled the sky, filtering through the trees and making the hot air even more intense. She felt as if her skin was being singed and her eyes were burning.
“These deaths have to be connected,” Ellie said, thinking out loud.
Were they personal? Did he know the victims? Or was he choosing them randomly? Sometimes a victim was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.
But that was far less common than being murdered by someone close to home. Mr. Curtis’s face flashed behind her eyes.
“Hopefully we’ll have an ID on victim number one late this afternoon,” Laney said, dragging Ellie away from her thoughts.
“Good. At least then I’ll know where to start with the questioning. Is this vic a female?”
“Yes,” Laney said, pointing to the pelvic bone. “Judging from the size of her skull and other bones, an adult woman. Petite, maybe five three. The heat speeds up the decomp process and we’ll factor that in, but I’d guess she’s been dead for a few hours. I’ll narrow that down when I finish the autopsy.”
Ellie stood and envisioned possible scenarios. The brush was mashed down, and dirt appeared to have been raked around as if to cover prints, the rocks and pebbles scattered.
Laney motioned her over. “Look at this. She was wearing a ring.”
Gently, Ellie studied the ring on the woman’s hand. The metal was still warm to the touch and the aquamarine stone was still intact.
Her puls
e raced as she realized what she was looking at. It was a high school class ring. She had one herself from Stony Gap High with her own birthstone, an emerald. Much to Vera’s consternation, she’d sold hers in exchange for money toward her first .22.
A sinking feeling swept through her as she remembered that the tradition of using the birthstones for the class rings had died out after her senior year. That meant the victim could be one of her own classmates. It could be Vanessa.
53
Bluff County Medical Examiner’s Office
At the ME’s office, Laney and the forensic anthropologist, Dr. Lim Chi, sat across from Ellie. Dr. Chi took a sip of her coffee before opening the folder she’d been holding. “I have information on the remains you found at Winding Rock.”
“Who is she?” Ellie asked.
“I used PMCT, compared bone structure, medical and dental X-rays, toxicology and DNA. We had a hit. Her name was Gillian Roach. She was a—”
“Social worker.” Ellie’s disposable coffee cup slipped through her fingers and hit the floor by her feet, sloshing warm liquid all over the painted concrete.
“What’s wrong, Ellie?” Laney asked. “Did you know Gillian Roach?”
Ellie jumped up, ran to the bathroom and gathered paper towels. When she returned, Laney was watching her with a worried look. “What is it, Ellie?” Laney asked again.
Blowing a strand of hair from her face, she wiped up the mess. “I didn’t exactly know her. But I had left her a message that I wanted to talk to her.”
Laney narrowed her eyes and Dr. Chi ran her fingers over the file but remained silent.
“This stays between us,” Ellie said. “Understood?”
Dr. Chi nodded, and Laney murmured, “Of course.”
“Gillian Roach was the social worker who handled my adoption.”
