Dead Little Darlings

by Herron, Rita

  “He was drinking and started doing drugs. You don’t understand,” she shouted. “My son was a football star. He had his entire future ahead of him, and those girls ruined it.” She waved the gun as she paced frantically in front of Marilyn. “You have no idea what it’s like to walk in and find your son with a needle in his arm, passed out over a toilet. He almost killed himself.”

  “He told me about that, and I’m so sorry,” Marilyn said gently.

  The woman’s face crumpled. “I forced him to go to counseling, but he was never the same.”

  “Preston is strong. Although he was wronged, he rose above it and helps others now.”

  “But those stupid girls robbed him of years.” Venom laced her voice. “They were mean and careless. They had no right to have children.”

  Marilyn sucked in a breath. Arguing with this woman would only intensify her agitation. “You’re right. They didn’t. They needed to be punished.”

  Mrs. Richway nodded her head, her eyes wild with rage. “That’s right. When I heard about this man who punished sinners, I knew what I had to do.”

  “Daryl Eaton?”

  “Yes, he was a godsend.”

  “What about the babies?”

  Pain flashed in the woman’s eyes, mingling with the bitterness. “Those bitches didn’t deserve to have children. Children need good mothers, not whores and rapists.”

  “What did you do?” Marilyn whispered.

  “He kept the girls on a little island a couple of miles out to sea until they delivered,” she said in a distant tone as if she’d dissociated from reality.

  Marilyn struggled to remain calm. “What happened to the babies? You didn’t hurt them, did you?”

  The woman halted and aimed the gun in Marilyn’s face. “Of course I didn’t hurt them!” she cried. “I’m not a monster. I was a good mother.”

  “And those babies were your grandchildren,” Marilyn said.

  She released a sob. “But I couldn’t take them and raise them. They would remind me of what those stupid girls did to my son.” She wiped at the tears streaming down her face with a shaky hand.

  “You couldn’t have the Punisher kill them either, could you?” Marilyn said, hoping to calm the woman. “You wanted them to be safe.”

  “Of course I did! Those babies were innocents. They needed good parents so they wouldn’t grow up like the Darlings or those other trashy girls.”

  An image of Deborah running for her life, trying to protect her infant, roused Marilyn’s anger. “What did Mr. Eaton do with the babies?”

  Mrs. Richway pushed a strand of hair from her face. “I told him to leave them at a church so someone would find them. That way they’d get adopted into loving homes.”

  Marilyn released a pained breath. “That was a very caring thing to do,” Marilyn said. “You gave them a chance for a future.”

  Mrs. Richway’s look turned crazed again. “But Preston can’t know about the babies. It would mess him up again. For Christ’s sake, he might even want to find them.”

  Marilyn sensed that he would, that he was more forgiving than his mother. “I understand,” she said, trying to placate the woman. “You both suffered terribly. But it’s time to stop the violence.” Hoping to convince the woman to turn over her gun, Marilyn slowly lifted a hand. “You saw my coverage on the Keepers, didn’t you?”

  “Everyone saw those stories,” Mrs. Richway retorted. “I felt for those women. And I admired them. They deserved justice and they got it.”

  “Just like you did.”

  The woman cut her eyes sideways as if debating whether Marilyn was trying to trick her.

  “Put down the gun and end this now,” Marilyn said. “Let me tell your story the way I did the others. Then everyone will understand that you were justified.”

  She jerked the gun up and aimed it at Marilyn, her hand trembling. “You’ll tell them I saved those children from growing up illegitimate.”

  “That’s right, you were thinking of the children.”

  She lowered the gun slightly. “I was. And I can’t be locked away because of it.”

  “If you allow me to cover your story, the court will go easier on you.”

  She shook her head vehemently. “No, then Preston will find out and he’ll hate me!”

  Marilyn gripped the wall. “I’ve met your son. He won’t hate you. You’re his mother, Mrs. Richway. He’ll forgive you and you can mend your relationship—”

  “No! He’ll hate me and I couldn’t stand that!”

  Marilyn pushed to her feet. “Please, let me tell your side. The worst part of being victimized is loss of power. Coming forward helps you regain that power.” She gave the woman an imploring look. “You’ll be an example for others who’re suffering. You can show them how talking can make a difference.”

  “Talking doesn’t help,” Mrs. Richway said, her voice cracking. “The only thing that helped was knowing those girls suffered.”

  Marilyn was losing her. “Only hurting them changed you. You have to let go of the anger and bitterness—”

  “Shut up! Just shut up!” Suddenly the woman raised the gun and aimed it at Marilyn again.

  But Marilyn didn’t intend to die without a fight. She threw herself at the woman and knocked her backward. The gun went off, the bullet pinging against the ceiling.

  Marilyn tried to yank the gun from the woman’s hand, but she was so full of rage that she shoved her backward. The force knocked the breath from Marilyn as her body hit the concrete wall.

  Before she could recover, Mrs. Richway raised the gun again. Marilyn braced herself for the bullet, but instead, the woman slammed the gun against the side of Marilyn’s head.

  The room spun, stars dancing. Ryker’s handsome face flashed behind her eyes just before she passed out.

  Ryker peeled into the parking lot in front of the lighthouse. Marilyn had to be here.

  With the storm escalating, the Village was deserted. The pier was empty. Stores and restaurants were closed and dark. Wind battered the windows and awnings, tossing debris across the streets. A newspaper someone had left whirled through the air. Waves crashed violently against the shore.

  He threw the car door open, drew his gun and hit the ground running. Caroline did the same, staying close behind him. He scanned the area as they approached the lighthouse, but the area was vacant.

  Except for a dark sedan parked on the other side of the lighthouse. The car matched the description of the one that had tried to run Marilyn down in the library parking lot.

  He raised his gun at the ready as he pushed the door to the lighthouse open and inched through it. He paused to listen for signs someone was inside, but the only sound he heard was the wind howling.

  He gestured toward the staircase. “I’ll check upstairs.”

  Caroline moved toward the second room on the bottom floor, a room holding articles about the history of the lighthouse for tourists.

  Ryker raced up the winding stairs, straining for sounds of Marilyn. He had to find her.

  Marilyn’s head throbbed. She was moving again. But where?

  Mrs. Richway’s wild rantings jerked her back to reality, and she opened her eyes. “You had to get that other agent Caroline Manson involved, too. That was the end for you. I couldn’t let her find out about me and what I did.”

  Marilyn blinked in confusion. She wasn’t making any sense. She kept ranting as she dragged Marilyn across the floor. A dim light flickered in her eyes as a door opened, and rain pelted her. She blinked, desperate to focus. She was outside the lighthouse now. In the rear. There was a back door, but it had been closed off for years.

  Wet grass and dirt scraped her legs as Mrs. Richway hauled her across the ground. Rain fell in thick sheets, soaking both of them. The wind was so strong Mrs. Richway staggered against the force of it and the hea
vy downpour.

  The world spun. Marilyn’s body ached and she was so weak she could barely move. The storm raged on, launching her back to that horrible night when she’d seen Deborah stagger from the ocean.

  They were headed to the water now. Waves thrashed and beat against the rocks, higher than Marilyn had seen in months. The woman dragged her closer, so close she felt the sharp rocks digging into her back. She remained limp, struggling to regain her energy and courage. She couldn’t let the woman throw her into the waves. The undertow would sweep her out to sea.

  The sound of a voice in the wind jarred her. Ryker’s? No . . . a woman yelling, “Stop!”

  Mrs. Richway dragged Marilyn nearer the rocky edge. The sound of a gun firing blasted over the wind, and Marilyn rolled to her side. Through the haze of rain, she saw a figure running toward them.

  “Stop, FBI!”

  Agent Manson. Hope sprouted in Marilyn’s chest. Was Ryker here, too?

  “Let her go!” Caroline shouted.

  “Don’t come any closer!” Mrs. Richway fired again, but the agent darted sideways to dodge the bullet.

  “Put the gun down,” Marilyn said. “It’s over, Mrs. Richway.”

  “No,” she cried, her voice warbling in the wind. “My son can never know about her.”

  Marilyn pushed up and leaned against the rocks while Agent Manson crept closer. “You mean about his babies?”

  “Yes.” She waved the gun toward the agent. “About her. He can’t know what I did or about Deborah.”

  Shock slammed into Marilyn as realization dawned.

  Was Agent Manson Preston’s daughter? The baby Marilyn had seen Eaton take from Deborah?

  Chapter Thirty

  Confusion marred the agent’s face. “What is she talking about?” Agent Manson asked.

  “You were never supposed to find out,” Mrs. Richway stammered.

  “Put down the gun,” Marilyn said. “You don’t want to kill her, Mrs. Richway. Just think about Preston. And he will find out. There’s no way to keep it from him.”

  A terrified look darkened Mrs. Richway’s eyes. “No, he can’t know. He’ll despise me.”

  “Find out what?” Agent Manson asked.

  “You’re adopted, aren’t you?” Marilyn asked the agent.

  The woman swallowed hard. “Yes, how did you know?”

  “I didn’t. I just figured it out.” Marilyn gestured toward Preston’s mother. “Tell her. She has a right to know.”

  Tears rained down Mrs. Richway’s cheeks. “No, I can’t say it out loud.”

  Marilyn licked her dry lips. “Agent Manson, you’re Preston’s daughter.” Marilyn hated to drop a bomb on the young woman, but if it was out in the open, Mrs. Richway might change her mind about shooting the agent.

  Marilyn hadn’t been able to save her as a baby. She had another chance now.

  “When I was a little girl, I saw your mother, Deborah Darling, murdered by the lighthouse keeper Daryl Eaton. She was trying to escape with her baby.” Her voice cracked. “I wanted to save that baby, but I was too little, and I was scared. I ran and told my mother, but she was afraid the killer would come after me, and she made me keep quiet.”

  The agent was frozen still, her eyes wide in shock.

  “Daryl Eaton, the Punisher, abducted the Darling girls and Mellie and kept them until they delivered. Then he killed the girls.” She gestured toward Preston’s mother. “She killed Eaton because she was afraid he was going to tell me the truth.”

  “I can’t believe this,” Caroline said in a raw whisper.

  “You didn’t know you were one of the Darling girl’s babies?” Marilyn asked.

  Agent Manson shook her head. “My adopted mother died a few months ago. She left me some papers saying she’d gotten me from a preacher who lived on Seahawk Island. I did some research and realized that I was found a few months after the Darling sisters disappeared.” She paused and swallowed again. “I thought there might be a connection. That’s the reason I requested the assignment here.”

  “You see, Mrs. Richway,” Marilyn said. “If she figured it out, others will. And if you kill us, the police won’t stop looking until they expose the truth. Your only chance to save face with your son is to be the one to introduce him to his daughter.”

  “No . . . no . . . >no . . .”

  “The other girls who got pregnant from the pact,” Agent Manson said. “Candace and Mellie. What happened to those babies?”

  “They were adopted, too, before you were born,” Mrs. Richway stammered.

  “Where are they?” Agent Manson asked coldly.

  “I don’t know. The preacher found them homes,” Mrs. Richway screeched.

  The agent’s look hardened. “What was the preacher’s name? What church?”

  “I don’t know his name. The church was that one by Seaside Cemetery,” she cried. “But all of you had better lives because of me!”

  “My adopted father hit me,” Agent Manson said. “Do you call that a better life?”

  The woman’s face blanched. “I . . . didn’t know.”

  “Caroline deserves to meet her biological father, and he deserves to know about her,” Marilyn said.

  Tears streamed down Mrs. Richway’s cheeks. “No!” She suddenly launched herself at Marilyn.

  Agent Manson fired a shot, but the woman hit Marilyn so hard they both sailed over the edge into the water. Waves crashed and rolled over them as Marilyn struggled to fight the woman.

  Mrs. Richway seemed to lose her will to live, and flung herself away from Marilyn as if she wanted to be swept out to sea.

  Marilyn screamed for her to fight, and swam toward her. But the waves snatched her and pulled them farther and farther apart.

  The sound of gunshots propelled Ryker down the lighthouse steps. He barreled through the entry and through the side room. Panting, he rushed outside and scanned the area.

  The storm made visibly difficult, and the wind tore at his clothes, rain pummeling him. Through the haze, he spotted Caroline by the ocean. He ran down the hill, his heart hammering.

  Dammit. Marilyn was in that water.

  He raced toward the bank. “Caroline!” He shook her, and she jolted back to reality as if she was in shock.

  “She’s trying to save Mrs. Richway.” Caroline started down the rocks, but Ryker grabbed her arm. “No, the current’s too strong. I’ll go.”

  He didn’t hesitate. He climbed over the edge and dove into the waves. They careened over his head, the undertow pulling at him. Marilyn was a good swimmer, but this storm made the waves so forceful that he could barely move against it.

  He clawed for traction, fighting the current. Marilyn’s head disappeared under water. Cold terror seized him, and he fought harder, pumping his legs and arms until he caught her. She was desperately trying to swim toward Mrs. Richway. But the undertow tossed the woman out to sea in the dark.

  He caught Marilyn around the waist. Blood oozed from her forehead, and she was strangling. Still, she fought to free herself and save the other woman. “Hang on,” he shouted. “Stop fighting me.”

  She choked, spitting water, and finally gave into him. He dragged her toward the shore. Caroline scrambled toward them and helped him pull Marilyn onto the grass.

  “I’ll go back for Mrs. Richway,” he shouted over the wind. “Call an ambulance.”

  He dove back in. But the tide was peaking, and the waves were so fierce that he couldn’t see the woman. He swam a few feet out, battling the current, dove underneath the surface and searched again, but the darkness swallowed her.

  Dammit. He tried again and again, swimming farther out, then diving under again, until his arms ached and he couldn’t catch his breath. He’d been out here how long? Several minutes. If he did find her, it would be too late.

  Another wave roared ov
er his head and clawed at him, and he went with it, then let it carry him back toward the shore. When he was close enough, he started pedaling with his arms again. He coughed, heaving for a breath, and pumping his arms and legs until he finally felt the ground beneath his feet.

  Caroline ran toward him, grabbed his arm and helped him up the bank to where Marilyn lay.

  “I alerted the coast guard to search for Mrs. Richway,” Caroline said. “And I called it into the station.”

  “Thanks.” He was glad she’d taken over.

  All he wanted at the moment was to hold Marilyn and make sure she was alive. She looked pale and weak, and blood streaked her forehead, but she lifted her hand toward him.

  He clasped it in his, then collapsed beside her and drew her up against him.

  “I thought I was going to lose you,” he rasped. “And I never want to lose you.”

  She pressed her hand against his chest and kissed him. “I don’t want to lose you either.”

  He was just about to confess his love, but a siren wailed and the ambulance roared up. He kissed her again, still not ready to release her.

  Marilyn struggled to remain conscious while the medics lifted her onto the stretcher and carried her to the ambulance. Ryker stayed close beside her, holding her hand, reassuring her.

  They’d made it through the storm and survived. And she had the truth now.

  Mrs. Richway had known where Deborah’s baby was all along. The agent had to be plagued with questions, and the need to find her half siblings.

  “Ryker, I need to see Agent Manson,” Marilyn said in a raspy voice.

  He nodded. “She’s right here.”

  Agent Manson climbed in the back of the ambulance, and Ryker narrowed his eyes. “I’m riding with her,” Caroline said.

  The paramedic started to argue, but the agent flashed her credentials. “This woman is a witness in a federal investigation.”

  She and Ryker seated themselves on the gurney facing Marilyn, and the medics closed the door. A second later, the ambulance sped away.

  “Someone care to explain what’s going on,” Ryker said gruffly.