by Rita Herron
Unable to bear the agony on Marty’s face, Ellie had to say something to Agnes. She gripped the woman’s hand. In spite of the heat, she was shivering from the ice bath. Her damp hair was tangled around her milky-white face, eyes swimming as if she couldn’t focus.
“I know you’re in shock and hurting, Agnes. You’re grieving for Katie Lee and I can’t bring her back. But I promise you, I will find out who killed her and put him away.” She paused. “But your son is still here, and he needs you more than anything. He needs you to take care of him, to teach him how to be a good man, the kind of man who would love a woman and treat her with respect.”
Agnes’s eyes fluttered, then she looked at Ellie, frowning, but slowly she seemed to comprehend.
“Deputy Eastwood is accompanying you and Marty to the hospital and will see that you receive the help you need.”
Agnes slowly nodded, tears running down her cheeks.
“You can do this,” Ellie whispered. “Do it for Katie Lee and your boy.”
Shondra pulled her keys from her pocket. “If it’s okay, I’ll drive him to the hospital to be with her and stay with him.”
Ellie squeezed Shondra’s shoulder. “I’m sure Marty could use a friend. Someone who understands and can guide him through the process.”
“It’s nice to be back, working together with you,” Shondra said.
Ellie gave her a quick hug. “It’s nice to have you back. Better guard Agnes. If Janie was killed because she could expose the man who assaulted her, then Agnes might also be in danger.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll keep her safe.” Shondra gestured toward Deputy Landrum’s car. “What about them?”
She’d like to stuff them in that tub of water, push them under and let them see how it felt. “We can charge the husband with spousal abuse and threatening an officer. We’ll investigate the reverend for the drugs.”
Shondra smiled sympathetically at Marty. “I’ll do my best to convince the mother and son to enter a shelter.”
Ellie saw Angelica watching. Knowing she had to answer to the public, she crossed to her.
“Can we record?” Angelica asked.
At Ellie’s nod, Angelica motioned to Tom to film, then introduced herself. “We’re here with Detective Ellie Reeves. Detective can you tell us what happened here today?”
Ellie stared into the camera. “We responded to a domestic situation at the home of Agnes and Josiah Curtis, the parents of Katie Lee Curtis, who was recently murdered.
“At this point I can’t divulge specifics of our investigation into the teenager’s death, but we are investigating Mr. Curtis for spousal abuse and bringing Reverend Ike Jones in for questioning. Again, I’m reaching out to the public for information regarding Katie Lee’s murder and for any information regarding the Ole Glory Church and Reverend Ike Jones.” The ambulance was pulling away, lights twirling against the night sky. “Excuse me, I need to go.”
Angelica looked disappointed. “Detective—”
“I’m sorry, that’s all I have for now. I need to question Mrs. Curtis.”
Derrick called just as she got in her Jeep, and Ellie explained what had happened. “Once Agnes is treated, maybe she can fill in the blanks about the church, and that research facility.”
“Good work, Detective.” Derrick paused. “I have something, too. Rigdon gave me the name of the docs who ran the sleep study. Dr. Hangar and Dr. Hoyt.”
She knew the name Hangar. But Hoyt was a new name to her. “Find them. They might be the key to everything.”
125
Crooked Creek
Angelica Gomez tried not to feel disgruntled as she and Tom drove toward Crooked Creek. Her boss insisted they cover the Fourth of July festivities and see if she could connect with that author, but Angelica wanted to be working the bigger story. The murders.
She itched to chase Ellie down and make her tell her everything she knew. The detective was holding back, she was sure of that.
But then again, so was she. She thought she might have a lead on the case, but she wanted proof before she went to the detective. Had to check her facts. The last thing she wanted was to lose Ellie’s trust.
Lately she’d felt as if someone was watching her. Then the phone calls started. Phone calls in the night with no number listed. Heavy breathing on the line when she answered.
Signs that her own investigation might be leading her close to the truth.
As they approached the center of town, traffic thickened. Main Street was blocked off and so were several side streets. The bad weather they’d feared had held off, but the parade had been delayed. It would start soon, followed by fireworks later. People were flooding the sidewalks, setting up lounge chairs and crowding in fronts of stores to grab a view. Several floats were lining up at the high school and she spotted the fire engine from Max’s house.
Floats, cars and trucks were decorated with streamers, papier-mâché flowers and animals waiting to entertain the eager spectators. The lead float featured a giant bear that had been constructed from wire to resemble the school mascot, symbolic of Bear Mountain. Kids who’d decorated their bikes for the Fourth gathered to line up while clowns began to do tricks on the sidelines, giving out balloons and candy. Horns honked and locals shouted greetings as they finished setting up the arts and crafts booths.
Still, a shudder rippled through Angelica as she scanned the streets. Was the killer lurking among them, waiting to abduct another woman?
126
Bluff County
Derrick sped down the highway, rain clouds moving across the sky, low and ominous.
“I haven’t been able to locate Dr. Hangar. The man virtually disappeared. No record of him practicing anywhere, relocating or renewing his driver’s license. Also, no death certificate on file.” He took a breath as he steered his car south of the county line. “It was Hoyt who spearheaded the research drug they used in that sleep study. I’m on my way to see him now.”
“I’ll ask Agnes about them,” Ellie said, her voice muffled over his car’s speakers.
“Two years after the trial Rigdon was involved in, the sleep medication was approved and was picked up by a major pharmaceutical company affiliated with one of the lead research and teaching hospitals in Atlanta at the time,” Derrick continued. “Hoyt made a fortune. If he was a party to the sexual assaults, he wouldn’t want that to come out.”
They hung up, and he slowed as he approached the man’s address. He was still in the country somewhat, but this was not poor rural Georgia. He’d done his homework before the drive. Hoyt lived on a twenty-five-acre estate on the Chattahoochee River with its own tennis, racquetball and golf courses. The two-million-dollar Georgian house had even been featured in Southern Living.
As Derrick reached the end of the two-mile drive, which had been lined with live oaks draped in Spanish moss, he saw a broad-shouldered man, about five-nine, hurriedly rolling a suitcase to a waiting limo.
Derrick accelerated, swerving in front of the limo to block it.
He shifted his car into park and climbed out. “Dr. Hoyt?”
The man instantly threw his shoulders back. “Excuse me, but I have a flight to catch.”
“You’re not leaving town anytime soon.”
“I have to. I have business to attend to.”
“I bet you do.” Derrick flashed his credentials. “Special Agent Fox. And you, sir, are coming with me.”
Anger shot across Hoyt’s angular face. “What is this about?”
“The recent murders in Bluff County.” He named the victims as he grabbed the man’s arms and forced him to turn around. “You are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent—”
“I want a lawyer,” Hoyt bellowed.
Derrick grabbed him by the collar of his button-down shirt, spun him around, pressing his face into the man’s.
“You want a lawyer so you can protect yourself from the fact that you drugged and raped numerous women over the years. And now you’re kill
ing those same women to cover your ass.”
“I didn’t kill anyone,” Hoyt snapped. “And I certainly didn’t rape anyone.”
“I don’t believe you.” Barely holding onto his control, Derrick shoved him in the back seat of his car and slammed the door.
127
Bluff County Hospital
Ellie was rushing through the hospital, anxious to question Agnes. Without her husband present, maybe she could finally tell the truth.
The doctor exited the exam room, and she stopped him. “How is Mrs. Curtis?”
“Resting,” the doctor replied. “The tox screen showed she drank tea laced with hallucinogenic mushrooms. Thankfully she didn’t ingest much of it so it should work its way out of her system quickly.”
“Can I see her now?”
“Yes, but for just a few minutes. She’s pretty traumatized.”
Murmuring that she understood, Ellie slipped inside the room.
Marty hovered beside the bed, looking shaken. Shondra sat in the corner, a quiet force of calm.
“Hey,” she said softly to Marty, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you grab a soda and a snack with Detective Eastwood while I talk to your mama?”
“I don’t want to leave her,” Marty said in a protective tone.
“I promise she’ll be okay. I’ll be right here.”
Shondra stood. “Come on, kid, I’m starving. They have pizza in the cafeteria.”
“I’ll stay with her until you’re back,” Ellie said.
He reluctantly agreed and followed Shondra. Ellie approached the bed, easing up beside the fragile woman. “Mrs. Curtis,” she said. “Can we talk?”
The woman opened her eyes and murmured yes.
“I’m sorry for what you’ve been through today. But I need some more help from you. Do you know who assaulted you and the other women?”
A fresh wave of agony washed over her face. “My memory’s so fuzzy, but I’m pretty sure it was one of the staff. One of the doctors conducting the study.”
Ellie showed her a photograph of Dr. Hoyt. “This man?”
Agnes squinted as she studied the picture. “I don’t know… the drug made me so messed up. I can’t even remember his face clearly, just that he was… on me.”
Which was exactly what the bastard wanted.
The sound of someone arguing echoed from the hall, and Ellie closed the door to drown out the sound, but Agnes startled. “I… I remember a woman arguing. Yelling at the doctor. The older one who was in charge of the study.”
“Was his name Dr. Hangar?”
“I… I think so. The woman… it was his wife. He called her Eula.”
128
Rose Hill
Ms. Eula stared at the wilted roses in her garden. Everything was unraveling just as the threads of her afghan had. The scent of evil floated through the air as strong as the acrid odor of the charred bodies.
She saw the innocence and the terror in the faces of those girls in her mind and the guilt weighed heavy on her heart. She’d kept her secret too long.
It was all going to come out now.
She stepped on one of the wilted roses, crushing it beneath her shoe as if she was crushing the evil that lay below. She was getting to be an old woman, and if it helped save lives, what did it matter if the truth was revealed?
When the bodies had first started piling up on the trail this time, she hadn’t understood. Hadn’t known what it was all about. Only that the devil had crept through the forest one more time.
A slight breeze stirred the leaves, a breeze she hadn’t felt in days. Yet it brought a chill of foreboding just as the crows that had taken root on the awning of her front porch brought their sinister message.
Eula crushed another row of dead roses with her boot, then another and another, then scooped up a handful of the wilted dry petals, lifting her hand to the breeze. It scattered the petals across her yard like black snowflakes, the wind picking them up and swirling them in a circle around her head and dropping them back to the ground like ashes.
129
Crow’s End
This is where it had all started for him.
Crow’s End. Thirty miles north of Crooked Creek and buried so deep in the mountains it wasn’t even on the map.
Ticktock. Ticktock.
Sweat soaked his shirt and neck as he shuffled through the overgrown, brittle weeds. He paused, the bright evening sunlight a reminder of the searing light that had burned his eyeballs.
The old building that had been a monster in his eyes still stood, the paint chipped and faded, the front porch sagging, the pillars rotten.
So many dark days he’d spent in there. A place where he’d come to heal.
A place that had stolen his soul.
Gripping the sledgehammer in his hands, he swung it against the posts that held up the porch and watched the wood crack and splinter. Over and over, he attacked the building that had been their hiding place. The monsters who’d promised to help had worn disguises. But they were still monsters.
Another few bangs and the side began to crumble. It was falling down already. The tornado a few weeks back had ripped the roof off, shattered windows and torn the back rooms completely off.
He had two hours until the parade began.
He breathed out, the scent of smoke lingering on his skin, enticing.
Two hours until he could finish this nightmare and finally sleep again. Two hours until he could go after Ellie Reeves. The one who’d started the chain of dominos falling…
130
Rose Hill
Ms. Eula sat in her rocking chair on her front porch, gently swaying back and forth, a calmness descending over her. Rays of evening sunshine glinted across the wood rails of the porch, hints of a thunderstorm flickering along the fog over the ridges. A sudden wind whipped through the trees, sending dried leaves to the ground.
The sky was at war, Mother Nature caught between the chill of the dead and the wicked heat of the devil as he lingered in the foothills.
She’d seen the news. Heard that girl Ellie Reeves promising to get to the bottom of those murders.
Resignation settled inside her, bringing a small sense of relief that the lies would finally be told. No telling what would happen to her, but she’d lived a life full of ghosts and shadows, and maybe it was her time to settle up with the one who saw all.
Katie Lee Curtis’s sweet young face tormented her. Her spirit floated in front of Eula as if she’d come to sit a spell. Maybe it was to condemn her, to say she was a fool for not being able to see what was in front of her very own eyes back then.
Or maybe it was to thank her for what she’d done when those tired eyes had finally opened to the truth.
After all, she’d done it for Agnes and the others.
But now Katie Lee had been killed because of it.
She could practically hear Ernie’s bitter laugh rippling in the heat lightning as he’d ordered her to keep silent. To protect him.
He thought she would obey like she had before. Like that Reverend Ike touted.
But she’d lived in denial for too long. She remembered his hands on her, pushing her to the floor, telling her she was no good, that she was less than a woman. That she couldn’t satisfy him.
Her hand hovered over her stomach. She couldn’t give him a child either. Not that he’d wanted one. But she had. Oh, lord, how she’d wanted a baby.
That made what he did even more heartbreaking.
Tears burned the backs of her eyes at the memory of his humiliating comments. Tears she’d refused to shed until that day.
She hadn’t cried for herself. But the screams coming from Ernie’s office had sent her running inside.
Then everything had changed.
She didn’t regret what she’d done, not for a minute.
131
Crooked Creek
He watched from the cover of the live oaks near the park as Angelica Gomez and her cameraman discussed where to set
up. Her ebony hair draped her shoulders, her lips painted a bright red, her cheeks glowing. She looked impeccable on camera.
She would be beautiful in death as well.
The reporter had gotten too close to the truth. He’d known she was relentless in pursuing a story, but he’d underestimated her drive and determination to get answers.
That had been his mistake.
The second was getting to know some of the people in this small town. For years, he’d been able to live without being noticed. To hold a job and hold onto his sanity. To fit in.
Sometimes he wanted that more than anything.
Then the call had come. The clicking sound, the chime of the clock, then the voice ordering him what to do.
It was too late for redemption. The past had been written eons ago, and although he’d fought it, he’d been weak and his fate was sealed.
He carried the shame with him, the heaviness a constant weight on his shoulders, but he couldn’t turn back time. The instinct to survive burned hot through his veins.
The reporter. Then Ellie Reeves. And maybe… one more, although he didn’t think she posed a real threat. Her mind had been stolen from her just as part of his had, only she had never found her way back to reality. Still, he couldn’t leave loose ends.
Angelica’s cameraman walked back to the van to get the camera equipment from the back while the reporter stood looking at the crowd gathered for the Fourth of July as if studying how best to capture the story.
Only her story would end today.
His breath puffed out as the sound of excited children’s voices filled the humid air. The tower clock in the middle of the square chimed.
Ticktock. Ticktock. Time to say goodbye to Angelica.
The crowd was the perfect place to hide.
