by Rita Herron
“I did.” He consulted his computer file. “Vanessa Morely was not a member.”
She sighed, disappointed that wasn’t the connection. She turned to Bryce. “Any updates on the teens who found Katie Lee?”
“Nothing new. I tried talking to Will again, but he wasn’t home. When I got his cell, he said he was staying with his uncle for a few days.”
“So far we’ve found no connection between Katie Lee and Vanessa. Vanessa’s daughter Mandy said she recognized Katie Lee from school, but they weren’t friends. The counselor and teachers at school confirmed the same. Said Marty was protective of his sister, but she hadn’t seen evidence of physical abuse. In Katie Lee’s journal, she wrote that her father had nothing to do with her.”
Agent Fox cleared his throat. “Psychological abuse can be just as bad,” he pointed out. “Do you know what his problem was with his daughter?”
Bryce grunted. “Probably because of that church.”
Derrick and Ellie exchanged a look. “We can’t assume anything,” Derrick said.
“Do you actually have information to add or did you just come to criticize us?” said Bryce, shooting him a venomous look.
Ellie bit her tongue to keep from defending Derrick.
“I’m here on request,” Derrick said bluntly.
Bryce glared at him. “I found a lead regarding Vanessa. Ryder Rigdon, the man who found her body, knew her from the bar where she worked.”
Geez. He was going to take credit for uncovering that even though he was too drunk to go after the guy the night before.
“He didn’t divulge that when I met him and Sarah Preston at the crime scene,” Ellie added, then relayed how she’d found Sarah. “Agent Fox and I searched Rigdon’s house this morning but if he had been there, he’s gone now.”
“He drives a steel-gray SUV,” Deputy Landrum interjected. “We have an APB out for him.”
Ellie wiped her clammy hands on her jeans. “The killer carved an hourglass into the bone behind the ears of Gillian, Katie Lee and Vanessa. Sarah didn’t have one. But it’s possible that he was interrupted. Or perhaps Sarah was more personal to him and he decided to let her live.”
“Or he’s not our perp,” Derrick added.
Ellie nodded. “Deputy Eastwood is sitting with Sarah now. Hopefully she’ll regain consciousness and be able to tell us who beat her.” Anxious to hear what Derrick had to say, she turned the floor over to him. “Agent Fox?”
He wrapped his knuckles on the table. “Detective Reeves asked me to check databases for any cases with similarities that occurred across the country. My preliminary search revealed nothing, but I’m still looking.”
Ellie’s cell phone vibrated on her hip. A quick glance at it and she raised a finger. “Excuse me. I need to take this.”
Stepping into the hallway, she pressed connect. “Detective Ellie Reeves.”
“It’s Annalise at Raintree Family Services. I have some information for you.”
“Go on.”
“I’m still working on that list of files that Gillian took, but one of our other social workers said that Gillian seemed nervous lately. She also remembered seeing her stuff a file in her briefcase earlier last week. When she asked about it, Gillian got upset and said it was nothing, that it was an old case file that she needed to get rid of.”
Ellie wiped at perspiration beading on her forehead. “Did she see the name on the file?”
“Only part of it. The given name on the file was Mae.”
73
Rose Hill
The screams in Eula Ann’s head were growing louder. All night a baby’s wail had been shrill and eerie, reverberating like a broken record.
She jerked upright, raking her hand across the bed, shoving the log cabin quilt she’d made when she’d first gotten married to the floor as she felt for the infant. But the bed was empty, as it always was.
She’d been lost in another nightmare, one that recurred from time to time. The aching emptiness inside her sent pain stabbing at every frail bone in her body. An emptiness she’d been forced to accept when she’d learned she would never have a child.
Sweating and shivering at the same time, she threw her bony legs over the side of her iron bed, digging her feet into her worn slippers. As the fog lifted from her brain, she realized the baby’s cry hadn’t been a baby at all, just the screech of the ceiling fan whirring above, stirring the unforgiving hot air.
Still, the anguish was raw, and she padded through her house to the front porch, threw the door open and stepped outside. Already the temperature had to be near 100. As the sun rose, morning rays hammered down on the ground and trees, frying the blades of grass. Wilted rose petals littered the parched earth, dust swirling through the air as if the dead were carrying on down below.
Maybe the heatwave was God’s way of reminding sinners what it would be like in hell when they joined the devil. Not that it mattered. Some were so lost, they reveled in their evil ways, consequences be damned.
The scent of smoke drifted to her, and she looked to the east, toward Cold Springs. Thick plumes curled above the treetops, obliterating the clouds and casting a sea of endless fog over the trail that had always held a natural untamed beauty.
A beauty that was now tainted by another killer torching bodies.
She heard the cries of the dead as if they were standing right there on her porch with her. Saw the lingering pain in the black silhouettes that hovered above the forest.
They wouldn’t quiet, not until Ellie Reeves stopped the killing.
74
Crooked Creek
Ellie stepped back into the conference room. She was anxious about sharing what she’d just learned, but she had to come clean now as it might pertain to the case. She was just about to explain when Bryce’s phone rang. He answered, alarm flashing across his face. “I’ll be right there.” He hung up, then headed toward the door. “Max Weatherby just called. There’s another wildfire. I need to go.” He turned to Ellie. “You’ll keep me updated?”
“Of course.”
As soon as he left, Deputy Landrum stood, excusing himself. “I’ll start reviewing those police reports.”
As people filed out, Derrick cornered her. “Something wrong?”
“Other than having three murders to investigate?” Ellie said dryly.
Derrick’s eyes darkened. “You know you always get sarcastic when you’re hiding something?”
“Do I now?” Dammit, she didn’t realize she had a tell, and she didn’t like the fact that Derrick had noticed it.
Waiting until everyone else was clearly out of sight, she explained about the phone call from Raintree. “The receptionist is trying to locate the other missing files, but one of Gillian’s coworkers saw a file with the name Mae on it.”
“Mae?” Derrick asked.
“The name I was given at birth,” Ellie said. “Before my parents adopted me.”
Derrick took a second. “So you think she was murdered to keep you from getting that file?”
“I thought that for a moment, but she disappeared before I phoned her. I’d been sitting on her name for weeks and hadn’t decided whether or not to pursue talking to her.”
“Who knew that you had her name and that she handled your adoption?”
Ellie struggled to think. Her head was starting to throb from lack of sleep, her eyes dry and stinging. “Just my parents.”
“One of them could have phoned the social worker to give her a heads up.”
75
Ellie’s mind churned. If her adoptive parents had interfered in her life again by contacting Gillian, any semblance of trying to rebuild their family was over. She couldn’t tolerate another lie or any more secrets.
Captain Hale poked his head back into the conference room. “Detective, Agent Fox, a 911 call just came in. Another body was found, torched like the others. This time at Cold Springs.”
Four victims now. What were they missing?
“I’ve al
ready called the sheriff and given him a heads-up that it’s close to where that wildfire is,” Captain Hale said. “I want you out there ASAP, Ellie. I’ll call the Evidence Response Team and ME.”
“I’ll call Cord and ask him to meet us at the approach trail for the springs,” Ellie said, snagging her Jeep keys and gesturing to Derrick. “I’ll drive.”
He didn’t argue. She knew the mountains better than he did.
The hot late-morning sun pounded down on them as they hurried outside. She punched Cord’s number, got his machine and left him a message. In spite of the recent crimewave, vacationers were flocking to the area for outdoor adventures, and traffic was thicker than the winter months. The parking lot for the Corner Café was packed, pedestrians clogging the sidewalks. While tourists hurried to book whitewater rafting and kayaking tours, and kids licked ice cream cones melting from the heat, they seemed oblivious to the fact that a madman was hiding among them.
Worst of all, Ellie had no idea how to warn them, because she had no idea how this unsub was choosing his victims.
“Do you know where this place is?” Derrick asked as she turned north onto the mountain road which rose high into the wilderness.
Ellie shrugged. “Generally speaking. That’s why I asked for Cord.”
Derrick glanced out the window at the passing scenery, and she wondered if he still had doubts about Cord and his past. In the last case, Derrick had arrested Cord as a suspect. Having been brought up by a mortician, which fit the profile of the Weekday Killer, who liked to dress his dead victims as if for burial, Cord had come under the spotlight.
But he’d been cleared. Having a dark past didn’t mean he was like the people who’d raised him. He’d risen above that. His grit earned her respect and admiration, not her distrust.
While she sped around the winding road, she welcomed the acres of undeveloped land. Land she hoped would never fall into the hands of real estate developers who wanted to turn it into cookie-cutter condos and resort communities that would rob the area of its natural beauty, local culture and charm.
The Jeep ate the miles, although the blinding sunlight forced her to slow down as she negotiated the switchbacks and rounded the sharp cliffs and ridges.
Sunlight flickered through the clouds above, streaking the asphalt as Ellie parked, and gnats swarmed her windshield. Already her clothes were sticking to her, her skin itchy.
She reached behind her and snagged her bug spray to use the moment she got out. Cord hadn’t arrived yet, so she pulled her phone. “You want to spray up while I make a call,” she told Derrick.
His eyes narrowed, but he took the spray, opened the door and climbed out. Immediately he began swatting at the mosquitoes and flies, then pulled off the cap and began spraying his clothes and hands.
Ellie pressed her father’s phone number. On the fourth ring, the voicemail picked up.
“Hey, Dad, I need to talk to you and Mom. I’m heading to another crime scene, but I’ll call later before I drop by.”
They could rebuild the house, the rooms, mimic the layout and color scheme, her father’s office, even her bedroom, but that was just the physical structure of a house. She’d thought their home had been built on good bones, but now the foundation had been shattered.
How could they rebuild what had been inside as a family, and ensure that the memories they’d made still counted, if Vera and Randall were still deceiving her?
76
Cold Springs
Hill after hill, Ellie and Derrick climbed. Laney and the Evidence Response Team were close behind, along with Cord ahead, who remained brooding and silent. She’d hoped the men might shake hands and start over. But both were prideful and stubborn.
Even from a distance, the scent of smoke was nearly overpowering. She heard the loud crack of a tree as it crashed to the ground and knew the firefighters had their work cut out for them. She’d feared the fire was on top of the area where the woman’s body had been left but it was about four miles away. Still, that was nothing when you were talking dry lumber, weeds and brush.
Looking to the sky, she hoped for rain, but even through the branches of the trees and the steep never-ending mountain crests, sun beat through as if it owned the sky. The ground was parched, the river and creeks so low that areas were simply dirt holes.
They passed an empty shelter on the trail, scattered with torn food wrappers and containers that indicated a bear had rummaged through the campsite. The path descended into a shallow valley with rotting vegetation and river stones that had washed up on the bank. The air smelled of pine sap, wildflowers and the choking odor of the smoke drifting through the curtain of trees.
The crack of a deer bolting through the forest was followed by the swish of Cord’s blade as he slashed through overgrown vines and led them up a grassy bald. Then they wound down a narrow path carved through the canopy of trees, making the temperature cooler and giving Ellie a sudden chill.
She and the team paused to take a drink of water, then slowly negotiated a knife-edge ridge across a rocky ravine. Downed trees that had fallen during the tornado a few weeks ago blocked a gap between the hills, forcing them to go around and then down into the holler where the creek formed natural springs.
The water there was so clear you could see the bottom and although cold on the surface, below it was like bathwater.
Cord’s radio crackled, and he responded, informing the ranger who was first on the scene they were near.
Ellie trudged down the hill until she spotted a gray-haired man with a scruffy beard beneath the shelter of a crop of trees. His overalls looked dirt-stained and he tore off a hunk of chewing tobacco, stuffing it in his cheek.
Cord introduced them to the other ranger. “Man’s name is Homer,” the ranger said, pointing to the elderly man. “Said he spotted smoke as he was about to set up camp, then went to check it out.”
Ellie quickly assessed the scene. The stones encircled the woman, her body burned almost beyond recognition.
She introduced them to the old man. “Did you see anyone else out here?”
“Naw.” The old guy shook his head. “Just smelled smoke. By the time I got here the flames were dying down.” He spit a stream of tobacco onto the ground. “Sorry. Too late to save her,” he muttered with a shake of his head.
Ellie raked her gaze over his clothing again but saw no evidence of smoke or soot. She ruled him out as a suspect. He didn’t fit the profile of a methodical cold-blooded killer.
“Any significance to the area?” Derrick asked, gesturing toward the springs.
Ellie planted her hands on her hips. “The other victims were killed prior to being set on fire. With the closeness to the spring water, maybe he drowned her first.”
“I’ll definitely be able to tell that from the autopsy,” Laney said.
Ellie checked the ground for footprints. There were at least two prints, which could belong to the ranger and the old man. The dirt appeared to have been raked in areas to cover up other tracks.
Derrick and the crime scene team remained by the creek edge while the ME began an initial exam. Laney gently checked behind the woman’s ear. The grim look she gave Ellie made her stomach twist.
Anger swelled inside Ellie at the sight of the hourglass carved into the woman’s bone.
77
Pigeon Lake
Grief clogged Marty Curtis’s throat as he looked out his bedroom window. He could see him and Katie Lee playing tag in the backyard when they were little. His sister liked to run and hunt for four-leaf clovers and pick dandelions, watching the fluffy white seed heads flutter through the air when she blew on them.
She’d rescued injured birds and talked to them as if they had a secret language, and she’d stand still and let bees buzz around her as if she wasn’t afraid of their stings. He used to watch them simply fly around her as if she was their queen.
One day their daddy saw it too, and he’d snatched her inside and locked her in her room. He’d said she was
a witch. That he’d have to talk to Reverend Ike about her.
He’d heard his sister crying herself to sleep that night, and he’d snuck into her room and hugged her and promised her he’d take care of her, that everything would be all right.
But it hadn’t been.
Tears leaked from his eyes, and he opened his window, crawled outside and down the tree to the yard. Sobbing now, he picked dandelions from the yard, climbed the tree again and took them to his sister’s room.
Guilt made it hard to breathe. He should have saved her. He’d known something was wrong in his family for a very long time. Nobody talked to each other, and when they did, it was to bow down to his old man, who thought he was God himself.
Marty had been to that church every Sunday and every revival and every Wednesday night dinner since he remembered, and even before then.
“Listen to what Reverend Ike says,” his father drilled into him.
Then his father had handed over all their money. He and Katie Lee had worn hand-me-downs and other kids made fun of them while Reverend Ike hoarded their money and wore a big gold ring on his finger.
What kind of preacher took from the poor to pad his own pocket? Didn’t seem right to Marty.
Just like it didn’t seem right to him the way his daddy treated Katie Lee.
His mama had a picture of him on her knee when he was an infant and Katie Lee just a toddler. Even in that photo, he could see the hate in his father’s eyes for his sister.
He just didn’t understand the reason.
Katie Lee had followed all the rules, had worked her butt off in school to make straight As, and had no social life—he’d seen her scribbling in that diary she kept to herself about wanting to get out.
