Elle Unleashed: A Gripping Psychological Thriller with a Twist

by Ditter Kellen

Elle fought tears. “I’m sure.”

  Ida Mae tucked the envelope inside her coat pocket and met Elle’s gaze. “I’m going to miss you, girl.”

  The tears Elle fought so hard to hold back came gushing forth against her will. “I wish you could come with me, Ida Mae. You’re the only friend besides Evan I’ve ever had.”

  The look on Ida Mae’s face said it all. She felt something for Elle also. “If I’d have had a daughter, I would have wanted her to be like you.”

  Elle fell apart. She threw her arms around Ida Mae’s neck and allowed her tears to fall. No one had ever confessed something so beautiful to Elle in all her life. “Do you really mean that?”

  “With all my heart,” Ida Mae softly confessed.

  Elle wasn’t sure how long she stood there holding on to Ida Mae before she backed away and left without another word.

  Once inside Evan’s home, Elle walked from room to room, memorizing everything from the old apple clock hanging on the kitchen wall, to the chipped mirror in the only bathroom she’d ever been able to call her own.

  She packed her things in the luggage Evan had purchased for her and set them in the den next to the door.

  Swallowing back her grief, Elle trailed down the hall to Sarah’s bedroom. She dragged the tips of her fingers over everything from the headboard of the child’s bed, to the stuffed animals resting neatly on top of her desk.

  Then she noticed a picture tacked up on the closet door. The drawing had been done in crayon and depicted a small child holding the hand of a stick figure wearing a dress. Elle had assumed at first glance that the woman in the picture would be Linda. Only, the hair color happened to be yellow and not red.

  Elle took the picture down with trembling fingers. The yellow-haired woman in the drawing was Elle, not Linda.

  More tears leaked from Elle’s eyes. No matter how many years passed once she departed, she would never forget Sarah, nor did she want to.

  Evan’s daughter had burrowed her way into Elle’s heart, and she would remain there until Elle took her final breath.

  Deciding to take the picture with her, Elle tucked it into a side compartment of her suitcase and loaded the bags into Evan’s car.

  She then went back to Ida Mae’s to say her final farewells.

  The elderly woman was sitting at the kitchen table, a glass of water in her hand. “The death of Amis Peterson was just on the news. Reports say they plan on going door to door, questioning all the neighbors.”

  Elle had nothing to say to that, so she stood there and let Ida Mae talk.

  “He deserved what he got, Elle. They all did.”

  Elle fidgeted. “What did you do with the gun and Evan’s laptop?”

  “I burned the laptop. The gun is back in the lockbox above the stove.”

  Elle glanced at the cabinet where the lockbox lay. “I need to get rid of it. I don’t believe there’s a way for them to ever discover that it was used in Waylon Redding’s death, but I can’t know that for sure.”

  Ida Mae got up and ambled over to the cabinet to retrieve the box. She removed the pistol and handed it to Elle. “Is this goodbye then?”

  “It is,” Elle whispered. “I’ll leave Evan’s car at the airport. I’m sure he’ll be able to get one of his old coworkers at the Atlanta PD to pick it up for him.”

  It felt strange to Elle, talking about the airport as if it were an everyday occurrence in her life. It wasn’t that long ago she’d had her first cup of coffee. Yet there she stood, not only preparing to get on a plane, but to actually leave the country.

  “I reckon you better go then before I break down in front of you,” Ida Mae snapped with obvious false bravado.

  Elle recognized it for what it was—the older woman’s attempt at keeping her emotions under control.

  Turning toward the door, Elle whispered, “I’ll never forget you, Ida Mae.”

  “Nor I, you,” she heard the other woman choke out as she hurried outside and jogged across the yard to Evan’s car.

  Once Elle got on the road, she drove to the swamp where Elijah and Waylon Redding and Marlon had been dumped, tossed the pistol into the murky waters, and then took off for the airport.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Evan hung up the phone with Sheriff Donnie King and stared through the open blinds of his room at the rehab center.

  According to Donnie, the FBI was convinced that Elijah had acted alone in murdering the six souls they’d found beneath that barn. They’d dubbed him a serial killer, and his name now rested on the FBI’s most wanted list.

  Though Evan was more than a little relieved to know they didn’t suspect Elenore, he couldn’t help but wonder if she were responsible for the recent deaths in his neighborhood in Atlanta.

  Had he been wrong in covering up the murders back in Wexler? He didn’t think so. Elenore hadn’t killed those people in that barn… Elle had.

  His mind wandered back to the day he’d noticed something strange about Elenore’s voice, her eyes. The day she had visited him in his hospital room. Something had definitely been off about her.

  Had that been before or after the recent killings in Atlanta? Evan couldn’t remember. And now, he wondered if Elle had something to do with them. Had she somehow evolved since the threat of her father’s control no longer loomed over her head?

  A niggling voice inside Evan’s head told him Elenore had faded to the background, and that Elle, in all her strength and will to live, had been…

  Unleashed.

  He dropped his head back against the pillow and closed his eyes. No matter which of Elenore’s personalities currently controlled her, Evan still loved her. He reckoned that he’d loved her since the day he noticed her standing in her dirt drive wearing that stained-up dress and tattered shoes. And now, she’d annulled their marriage, informing him that she planned on leaving.

  Evan had seen the finality in her eyes. There would be no stopping her, no talking her out of it.

  A knock sounded, pulling him up short. Had Elenore returned? “Come in.”

  Ida Mae stuck her head inside. And from the look on her face, it appeared that she’d been crying. “Ida Mae?”

  She ambled across the room and laid her palm across the top of Evan’s hand. “I don’t have any flowery words to remove the sting of what I’m about to tell you, so I’ll just say it. Elle is gone. She left about an hour ago, and she gave me this to give to you.”

  Reaching into the pocket of her coat, she pulled out an envelope and placed it on Evan’s bedside table.

  Evan fought his emotions, taking deep breaths to keep from showing Ida Mae how close he was to falling apart. “What about Sarah?”

  “She’s at school. I can pick her up after, or you can get Winnie and Myrtle to get her. It’s up to you.”

  Evan thought about that for a moment. “I’ll call Winnie. She’s already on Sarah’s pickup permission list. I’ll see if she can keep Sarah until I’m released next week.”

  “I’m sure she will.”

  The oddest thing happened next. Ida Mae leaned close and kissed Evan’s cheek. He could see the tears swimming in her eyes, but she turned her back and left before he could ask if she was okay.

  It was probably best that she left rather quickly. It gave Evan a chance to read Elenore’s letter.

  Once the door closed behind Ida Mae, Evan picked up the envelope and pulled the letter free.

  Acceptance soon set in with every word he read.

  Dear Evan,

  By the time you read this, I will be gone. I’m not really sure where to start, other than to tell you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I also want to thank you for bringing Sarah into my life and entrusting me with her care. I never knew I could love another person as much as I love her.

  It wasn’t lost on Evan that she didn’t mention love when writing of him. Not that he’d ever expected to hear those words from her. He’d known deep in his heart that she wasn’t capable of it. He was, after all, a man.


  Attempting to get his emotions under control, he continued reading.

  I’ve done things, Evan. Things I can never come back from or confide in you about. But I want you to know there was nothing you could have done to prevent it or change who I am. Because of you, I have life. Because of you, I can live again. Because of you, I am free.

  Nothing can ever change who and what I am, Evan, so please don’t blame yourself for that. And know that I will carry your memory in my heart, always. I’m sorry that I’m not able to be what you wanted or needed, Evan. But my life has been forever altered by my father and more monsters than I care to remember. I am damaged, I am broken… I am Elle.

  Evan reread that letter again and again, and with each line he read, his heart broke anew. But she was right, and he knew it.

  He had zero regrets where Elenore or Elle was concerned. And if given the chance, he would do it all over again.

  Folding the letter up, he placed it back inside the envelope and returned it to his bedside table.

  A bittersweet smile touched his lips. Elenore Griffin may have broken his heart, but Elle had given him something in return. Strength. And the two of them together possessed a strength that surpassed anything Evan had ever known… Or ever would.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Elle dragged her carry-on bag to a nearby row of chairs to wait.

  She’d managed to purchase a ticket for a later flight, but in the meantime, she would be stuck at the airport until said flight was ready for takeoff.

  To say she was nervous would be an understatement. Especially after closing out her account and driving away from the bank with a one hundred thousand-dollar cashier’s check in her bag.

  She also had almost two thousand in cash tucked away inside her bag, along with her driver’s license and, thanks to Evan, her passport.

  Had Evan not insisted she get one on the day they’d married in that courthouse, Elle would be up the creek without a paddle.

  The thought of Evan brought a certain pain to her heart. It also invoked a kernel of regret. She would never in a million years be able to repay his kindness and friendship to her.

  Attempting to block out the anxiety trying to overtake her, Elle picked up her bag and moved to stare out the window at the people boarding their planes.

  She laid her forehead against the glass, watching the different families holding hands and chattering excitedly.

  Elle would never have that, and she supposed she needed to accept that fact.

  “Reckon they got room on that plane for one more?”

  Elle’s breath froze in her lungs. She slowly turned around and took in Mrs. Gordon and the two bags perched next to her feet. “Ida Mae? What are you doing?”

  “What’s it look like, girl? I’m going with you. Bought my ticket and everything.”

  “But this is your home. You said so yourself.”

  Ida Mae stepped in close and laid her palm against Elle’s cheek. “I know what I said. But there’s nothing here for me. I got no one to care for, no one to look after. Besides, God knows what sort of trouble you’re liable to find in Montenegro. That is where we’re going, isn’t it? I sure hope so, ‘cause I’ve already bought my ticket.”

  One of those rare laughs burst from Elle. Ida Mae was going to Montenegro with her.

  She dropped her bag and threw her arms around the elderly woman.

  Elle had lost so much in her life. Her mother, her innocence, school, friends, and Evan and Sarah. But she’d gained more than a friend and confidante in Ida Mae. She’d found a companion she could trust with her deepest, darkest secrets.

  She found a new beginning…

  Epilogue

  Montenegro

  Three months later

  Floyd Gilbert stretched in the back seat of the taxi he’d taken from the airport.

  He checked his watch, happy to see that it was only two in the afternoon. That gave him plenty of time to check on her. And by her, he meant the young girl he had been watching since she’d moved in next door a little over a month ago.

  Floyd wasn’t sure what her name was or even her age. She couldn’t be more than seven or eight. Easy prey.

  The fact that she didn’t speak English mattered not to Floyd. He’d learned a little Montenegrin since his arrival more than two years ago.

  Leaving the States hadn’t been easy for Floyd, but sex trafficking in Europe had proved to be a lot easier than anything he’d been able to pull off in the States.

  And the little Montenegro native next door would bring him a pretty penny.

  After arriving home, Floyd paid the cab driver and let himself into his modest home. He loosened his tie, toed off his shoes, and moved to the kitchen to grab a beer.

  The little native girl should be walking home from school in the next half hour.

  A knock sounded on the front door, sending Floyd padding back to the foyer in his socks.

  He checked through the peephole, surprised to see an elderly lady standing on the stoop.

  “May I help you?” he asked, opening the door. He noticed a very pretty, younger woman standing at the elderly lady’s elbow.

  “Our car broke down up the street,” the older of the two women rasped. “And I was wondering if I might come in and use your phone?”

  Backing up a step, he waved them inside. “The name’s Floyd. The phone is in the kitchen.”

  “Thank you, dear boy. I’m Ida Mae.”

  Floyd glanced over the older woman’s head, attempting to see the eyes of the beauty behind her. Of course, she wore a pair of large sunglasses, preventing him from making out her features.

  “Nice to meet you, Ida Mae. And who is this pretty little thing behind you?”

  The beauty in question stepped over the threshold, closing the door behind her. “I am Elle…”

  Read below for a sneak peek into the pages of The Silencer: A Chilling Thriller.

  Chapter One

  Oliver Quick rubbed at his bloodshot eyes and glanced at the blinking phone on his desk.

  He wondered how long the caller would hold before growing impatient and hanging up altogether.

  The door to his office abruptly opened and his secretary, Joyce Meeks, poked her head inside.

  She stared at him with a disapproving look before marching across the room to snatch up the phone. “I apologize for the wait, Mr. Williams. Oliver is on another line. I’d be happy to take a message if you’d rather not continue to hold.”

  Oliver listened to Joyce repeat his brother-in-law, Aaron Williams’s, words back to him, understanding full well she did it for his own benefit.

  Joyce Meeks had been with Oliver since he’d opened Quick Investigations a little more than five years ago. Though she spoke with the voice of a seasoned general and wore her hair in a similar fashion, she had kind blue eyes. And she thought of Oliver as the son she never had.

  She returned the phone receiver to its home with a little more force than was probably necessary and pierced Oliver with an accessing stare. “Too much scotch last night?”

  Oliver leaned back in his chair, propping his feet on the corner of his desk, and ignored Joyce’s reference to his late-night drinking. “What did Aaron want?”

  “Besides calling to invite you to the children’s birthday party next weekend? I have no idea. Why don’t you call him back and find out?”

  Oliver inwardly cringed. Spending his weekend with a bunch of screaming kids didn’t bode well with his hangover.

  He opened his mouth to announce that very thing, when the trill of the phone once again echoed from his desk, sending an unwelcome pain shooting through his skull.

  “Serves you right,” Joyce snapped, striding toward the open door. “That drinking is going to be the death of you.” The door clicked shut behind her.

  “Quick Investigations,” Oliver nearly growled, answering the incoming call.

  A brief pause ensued. “Hello, Oliver, it’s Richard Holland.”

  Oliver�
��s stomach tightened. There would be only one reason the supervisor of the FBI field office in Huntsville, Alabama would be calling him. They needed his help.

  “SSA Holland,” Quick acknowledged. “It’s been a minute.” Nearly six years to be exact.

  Richard cleared his throat. “That it has. Look, Quick, I could use your help.”

  “My help? With what?” But Oliver knew. He’d already heard about the dismembered body discovered under the pier in Panama City Beach. It was all over the news. “I’m not a profiler any longer, Richard. I haven’t been for years.”

  “A profiler isn’t something you do, Quick. It’s who you are.”

  Oliver refrained from pointing out the obvious. The last serial killer he’d profiled had not only killed Oliver’s wife, he’d gone on to kill six more women shortly afterward.

  “I’m headed to Panama City Beach,” Richard continued without preamble. “Can you meet me for lunch?”

  The last thing Oliver needed was the smell of greasy food invading his hungover, consistently throbbing head. But the profiler in him couldn’t resist meeting with the leader of the Behavioral Analysis Unit in Huntsville. “Salty Sue’s in half an hour.”

  “I’ll be there.” The line went dead.

  Oliver replaced the phone receiver and stood. He wandered over to his large office window to stare out at the busy Destin traffic of Back Beach Road.

  His hands sank into the pockets of his navy-blue slacks. He watched the cars move bumper-to-bumper in an impatient line of horn-blowing maniacs.

  April had loved this place, Oliver thought, his gaze moving to the beach beyond. She’d wanted to raise their children there…children they would never have.

  The old, familiar ache that always began in his heart with thoughts of April traveled through his chest to settle in his gut.

  Nausea was instant.

  Oliver locked his teeth together, his eyes sliding closed to shut out the view before him.

  He groaned deep in his throat, allowing the memories of his beautiful April to wash through him.