by Rita Herron
Laney’s mouth parted in surprise.
“I left a message for her, but she didn’t return my call. I talked to her assistant the next day, though, and she was worried about her. She said Gillian rushed from her office upset and carried work files with her. I went by her house and had the impression she’d left town, so I asked one of the deputies to look into her. She has no family. But I thought she might have been threatened by someone from a case she’d worked. What was time and cause of death?” Ellie asked the ME.
“I’d estimate her death to be approximately four days ago. It appears that he snapped her neck. A quick and fast death. The fire was set postmortem.”
“Just like the others. He kills them, then places them in the stone circles and sets the fire.”
“There’s something else that was interesting,” Dr. Chi gestured toward photos she’d taken of the bones. “Look at this tiny indentation in the mastoid bone.”
“The bone behind the ear?” Ellie asked
“Yes.” She used her pen to point to the exact area. “At first I thought it was a result of her injuries, but when I took another look, I realized it had been carved into the bone by a sharp instrument.”
Ellie looked closely at the photo, her heart stuttering as she realized the markings formed a shape. “It looks like an hourglass.” She contemplated the meaning. “An hourglass is a symbol of the sands of time, that time doesn’t last forever.” Just like burning the bodies meant that we are nothing, that in death we turn to ashes. “The hourglass obviously has a special meaning to the person who killed Gillian. She was out of time.”
A strange expression tinged Laney’s eyes. “I have to check something.”
Laney pulled a file from the organizer on her desk. Katie Lee’s photo lay on top, the grisly sight of her twisted and mangled body a reminder of the killer’s depravity.
Laney turned the photograph so that they could see. “Look at those cuts behind her ear.”
Ellie examined the picture.
“I thought those were just scratches and scrapes sustained from falling on the jagged rocks, so I didn’t think anything about them, but—”
“They do look crude,” Ellie admitted, her stomach plummeting. “But I’m willing to bet it’s an hourglass.”
54
A half hour later in the autopsy room, Ellie was still struggling to pull herself together when Laney dropped another bombshell.
“The third body is Vanessa Morely,” Laney said as she compared Vanessa’s dental and medical records to the body on her table, the bridge in the victim’s mouth confirming her ID.
Ellie swayed slightly, emotions flooding her.
“Are you okay?” asked Laney, touching her arm to steady her.
“I knew Vanessa from school. We used to play together as kids.” In her mind, she saw Vanessa chasing frogs in the creek and making mud pies, her pigtails bobbing up and down as she skipped. God, she wished she’d reconnected with her.
And her daughter… poor Mandy.
“I’m so sorry,” Laney said softly.
Dr. Chi hurried to the sink and returned with a paper cup of water. “Here, drink this.”
Ellie straightened and accepted the water, sipping it slowly. Questions ticked through her head at lightning speed.
Was there a connection between the victims? Katie Lee was a high-school student with an overprotective father and a family who attended Ole Glory Church. Had Gillian attended that church too? How about Vanessa? Or did Katie Lee or Vanessa contact Gillian for some reason?
Mandy’s young face taunted her. “I have to notify Vanessa’s daughter and her sister.” She just wished she had answers to give them when she did.
Vanessa’s body lay draped in a sheet. The strong odor of cleaning chemicals assaulted Ellie, mingling with the putrid scent of death and body decomposition.
Vanessa’s skin was purple and black, the bruising pattern around her neck consistent with rope burns. Ellie didn’t see handprints on her neck, although her upper arms were bruised. The pale, battered body before her was nothing like the Vanessa she remembered. The vibrant girl in high school who’d made the cheerleading squad. Although they’d run different paths, Ellie had been happy Vanessa had come out of her shell. She’d expected Vanessa to go on to college and be successful. Then she’d had Mandy and never left town while Ellie had gone off to the academy. Ellie had no idea what had happened afterwards.
Laney gently turned Vanessa’s head to one side, using her magnifier to study the area behind her ear. “Not there.” She turned her head to the opposite side and made a small sound in her throat.
“There it is.”
Ellie moved closer, her heart thumping wildly when she spotted the hourglass carved all the way to the bone.
55
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Laney said.
“Me neither,” Ellie murmured. “I don’t want a word of this leaked until I have time to investigate. I especially don’t want details of the hourglass carving to be revealed or that we might have another serial killer in this county. We have to withhold details from the public, so don’t talk to the reporters or your friends. Not even pillow talk.”
“Ellie,” Laney said, her tone irritated, “you know I would never do that.”
“Neither would I,” Dr. Chi said. “I understand the importance of discretion.”
“I didn’t mean to imply you would be anything other than professional,” Ellie said and meant it. “I was just thinking about our sheriff running his mouth to the Weekday Killer.”
Laney squeezed her arm. “I know you’ve had a lot to deal with. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
“Thank you both,” Ellie said. “Can you determine cause of death?”
“Asphyxiation due to strangulation,” Laney replied. “Set fire to afterwards.”
The image of the killer tying that rope around Vanessa’s neck and then dragging her across the ground blinked behind Ellie’s eyes. She had probably fought, screamed… thought about her daughter.
“Ellie, maybe you should let someone else handle this,” Laney suggested.
“No, I promised Mandy I’d find her mother. Now… I have to tell her I did, but she’s dead.”
Ellie excused herself, then walked down the hall. Her stomach was churning, so she ducked inside the ladies’ room and splashed cold water on her face. She couldn’t help but wonder about Gillian. Instinct told her that the missing files held the answer.
Patting her face dry with a paper towel, she decided to stop by Raintree Family Services and speak with Gillian’s assistant before she went to the Morelys’. She needed time to pull herself together. Mandy and Vanessa’s sister would be full of questions.
Questions she didn’t know how to answer.
56
Cleveland, GA
Ellie entered the office of Raintree Family Services, an older two-story home on the town square. A raven-haired woman in her late thirties sat behind the desk on the phone, her gold loop earrings bobbing up and down as she moved. The building seemed quiet, the sound of the air conditioner rattling filling the room. No voices or phones ringing indicating anyone else was here.
She crossed to the receptionist. “Annalise? I’m Detective Ellie Reeves. We spoke on the phone before. Are you alone here?”
“I am. Velma’s on a home visit, and Rochelle is in court with a foster care hearing.” Worry knitted the woman’s slender face. “Did you locate Gillian?”
Ellie hadn’t yet divulged the social worker’s ID to the press. But with no family to notify and needing information, her best bet was to confide in Annalise. “I’m afraid we did. And I’m sorry to report that she’s dead.”
“Oh, my word,” said Annalise, clutching her chest. “Not Gillian… She was always so kind and helpful to others.”
Ellie gave the woman a moment to process the news. “Wh-what happened?” she asked, finally recovering.
“Evidence indicates she was murdered,” Ellie s
aid gently.
The color drained from her face. “No… poor Gillian.” She reached for a tissue on her desk and dabbed her eyes. “Who would hurt Gillian?”
“That’s what I want you to help me with,” Ellie said. “Was Gillian seeing anyone? Did she have a lover or partner?”
“Not that I knew of. She was married to this job.”
“You mentioned that she carried work files home, but I didn’t find them. I’m going to need a list of anyone who might have been upset with her or held a grudge against her.”
Annalise gave a shaky nod. “She didn’t really confide in me, but I’ll ask the other two social workers. They might know more.”
“Thank you. I need her computer.”
“She took her laptop with her that day,” said the receptionist, tapping her acrylic nails on her desk.
“It wasn’t at her house or in her car. Is there a way you can determine which files she took?” Ellie asked.
“I might be able to. But that will take time. I’ll get right on it.” An eagerness flashed in the woman’s eyes. Ellie had learned that one coping skill when faced with grief was to have something to do to feel useful.
“Thank you.” Ellie swallowed. “Do you know if Gillian ever spoke to a young girl named Katie Lee Curtis or one of her family members?”
“That’s the teenage girl who was killed?”
Ellie nodded. “Did you know her?”
“I don’t recall her or anyone from the family being here, but I’ll check when I sort through our system.”
“Please do,” Ellie said. “I also want you to look for a Vanessa Morely.”
Annalise’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I don’t understand. What do they have to do with Gillian’s death?”
“I think they were killed by the same person.”
57
Stony Gap
Bracing herself for the grim task ahead, Ellie walked up to Vanessa’s house. Nerves bunched Ellie’s shoulders as she thought about how much Vanessa would miss out on. She wouldn’t be there for her daughter’s prom or wedding or if she had a baby. Trudy opened the door, her face ashen and her eyes wary. As she showed Ellie inside, Mandy raced down the stairs, eyes red and swollen.
“You found my sister, didn’t you?” Trudy asked, a quiver to her voice.
Ellie gave them both a sympathetic look. “I really didn’t want to be here saying this, but I’m afraid so.”
“Where is she?” Mandy said, tears filling her eyes.
“At the morgue,” Ellie said softly. “I’m so sorry.”
Trudy took her niece by the arm and guided her toward the living room, looking lost as to what to do. Mandy wrapped her arms around her middle, rocking back and forth, a wail escaping her.
“What happened?” Trudy asked finally.
Ellie didn’t intend to share the gruesome details. “She was strangled.”
“Someone murdered her?” Mandy cried in horror.
“I’m so sorry, honey,” confirmed Ellie. “I know this is painful to hear.”
Mandy choked on a sob, then turned and ran outside. Through the window, she saw the girl kicking a soccer ball, pounding it against the garage door.
“I’m sorry, Detective. She’s been so distraught.”
“No need to apologize,” Ellie said over the lump in her throat. “Her whole world just got turned upside down.”
“I can’t believe this is happening, that she’s gone.” Trudy’s gaze searched Ellie’s. “Do you know who killed her?”
“Not yet.”
Trudy leaned her head into her hands for a minute and Ellie gave her time to absorb the shock.
After a moment, Ellie said, “The first forty-eight hours are critical in finding a killer, so I need to ask you some questions. If that’s all right, of course.”
Trudy wiped at her eyes, then gave a slim nod.
“Do you have any other family I can call?”
“No. Our mother died in childbirth, so Vanessa never knew her. I don’t remember much about her either.”
“What about your grandmother?” Ellie said, recalling the plump older woman who always smelled of gingerbread and molasses.
“She died a few years ago.”
“Was Vanessa close to anyone else, someone she might have confided in?”
“Not that I know of,” Trudy said. “But I can ask Mandy.”
“Thanks,” said Ellie. “Did Vanessa attend the Ole Glory Church?”
“Are you kidding?” A sardonic laugh escaped the woman. “Vanessa never went to church period.”
“Did she ever mention a woman named Gillian Roach?”
Trudy shook her head. “I’m sorry I’m not more helpful. You must think I’m a terrible sister.”
“I don’t think that at all,” Ellie said.
The sound of the ball pounding against the garage door grew louder. “When Mandy is ready to talk, please ask her. Give me a call when you do.”
Ellie choked back her own tears as she let herself out. She should be hardening to this, but she’d almost lost her own mother and it had broken her. Mandy hadn’t even had a chance to say goodbye.
The hot, still air robbed her breath as she made her way to her Jeep. A dog howled somewhere nearby, a black hawk soaring toward the jagged mountaintops. Silence hovered over the peaks and valleys like a heavy weight, night falling and casting the sharp ridges in shadowy grays. It was a vicious reminder that another predator lurked in the hills. Was he hunting his next victim now?
58
Crooked Creek Police Station
“What the hell is going on, Ellie?” Bryce yelled as he stormed into Ellie’s office a half hour later. “I expected an update from you on the Curtis case.”
“I’ve been a little busy,” Ellie said, her hackles instantly raised. “The ME confirmed that the latest body we found is Vanessa Morely, and I had to notify the family.”
Bryce made a low sound in his throat. “She’s certain?”
“Yes,” Ellie said, surprised at the shift in Bryce’s voice. Then again, he had taken Vanessa to prom in high school. “Have you talked to her recently at Haints?”
He hesitated a little too long.
“Bryce, what are you holding back?”
After a beat, he cleared his throat. “She waited on me a few times, but we didn’t hang out or date. The other night she seemed jumpy, said she thought someone was watching her, I walked her to her car, but I just figured she was spooked because of the murders.”
“Her daughter Mandy said she was nervous,” Ellie admitted. “Did you learn anything from Vanessa’s coworkers?”
“Only that she dated around,” Bryce said. “She hadn’t mentioned a problem to anyone.”
“Anything on the security cams?”
“Just people coming and going from the bar. No sign of anyone stalking the vicinity.”
“Dr. Whitefeather found something else,” said Ellie, explaining about the hourglass carvings. “Don’t go spilling that to the press. We don’t want to trigger a copycat or escalate the unsub because he knows we found the marks.”
“You’re not going to let it go that I talked to Burton, are you?”
“It’s hard not to remember it,” Ellie pointed out. “Shondra and I both have scars from his handiwork.” Hers weren’t as deep as her friend’s. The whip marks on Shondra’s back might never fade but it was the emotional trauma she was most worried about.
“I said I was sorry,” Bryce said.
“Have you said it to Shondra?” His hesitation told her he hadn’t.
“Until you do, don’t expect forgiveness from either one of us.” She wiped her clammy hands on her jeans as she stormed out.
Knowing she couldn’t sleep yet, she went to the conference room and added a photo of Vanessa and the crime scene to the murder board.
Standing back, she compared the details of the victims’ lives, searching for something she’d missed, something to tie them together.
Nothi
ng jumped out at her.
Next, she wrote the word UNSUB, short for unknown subject, in a separate column. What did she know about him?
That he used various methods to kill his victims. After that, he set a fire around them. He created a monument of standing stones and carved an hourglass into the bone behind his victims’ ears.
Why was time significant to this killer? Had he waited with the victim for an hour after he killed her? Did it take an hour for her to die? That might have been true with Gillian or Katie Lee, but if Vanessa was strangled by the rope, her death would have been quicker.
How could she determine the perpetrator’s identity when she had no idea how or why he’d chosen to murder these particular victims?
Did it all come back to Gillian Roach?
The questions spun in her mind, dizzying her.
Thinking back to the hourglass, she wondered if this unsub had struck before. Deputy Landrum could research that, but a crime like this would have gained media and police attention in the area. But if the killer had struck in a different area or state, it wouldn’t necessarily have been on her radar.
One person who could help was Special Agent Derrick Fox.
Although the sheriff detested calling in the feds, she didn’t have a choice. Derrick had access to resources that she didn’t, and he’d already offered to help. Her victims deserved for her to do everything she could to get them justice.
59
Atlanta, Georgia
Special Agent Derrick Fox stared into his bourbon as he watched the evening news. This mandated time off was fucking with his head.
He’d been following the story in Crooked Creek ever since it had broken. Those mountains had gotten in his soul, and it had been hard to leave them behind for the city.
“This is Angelica Gomez for Channel 5 news, here with Bluff County’s Sheriff Bryce Waters and arson investigator Max Weatherby,” the reporter stated. “Sheriff, what can you tell us about the woman who was found at Death’s Door?”
