All the Dead Girls (Graveyard Falls Book 3)

by Rita Herron

  Ian slid into the driver’s seat. “The team is coming back in the morning. I’ll drive you home.”

  Tears of frustration threatened to choke Beth, but she swallowed them back. Ian was right. But leaving without finding Prissy felt wrong, like they were giving up. Like they were deserting her.

  He started the engine and cranked up the defroster. Beth shivered and tried to tuck her hair back into its neat bun, but loose strands dangled in disarray. She removed the clasp and ran her fingers through it, smoothing out the tangles.

  A truck passed, and her vision blurred for a second.

  A man’s face again. All in shadows . . .

  Her abductor?

  She blinked and leaned forward to get a better look, but the truck flew past. Then she realized it wasn’t a truck. It was an SUV.

  Dear God, was she paranoid? Losing her mind? Or could he be here watching them, laughing at the fact that they hadn’t caught him yet?

  Ian stroked her hand, his gaze dark. Intense. “Are you okay?”

  “I won’t be okay until we catch him and find Prissy.”

  “I know,” Ian said in a gruff voice.

  She feathered her hair over her shoulders again, fighting despair.

  Ian’s jaw tightened. “Your hair—you always wear it pulled back so tight. It looks good down.”

  Beth shifted self-consciously. Knotting her hair in a bun had started as a subconscious act to make herself look professional. Less appealing.

  Now it had become part of her. With her hair pulled back, she felt in control.

  She didn’t like not feeling that way.

  She quickly smoothed the strands into a ponytail and then wound it around and secured it at the base of her neck again. “Thanks, but it doesn’t get in the way like this.”

  Some emotion she couldn’t define flashed in Ian’s eyes. She averted her gaze, uncomfortable with his scrutiny. For some reason, she sensed he saw through her.

  That an attraction was simmering beneath the surface. An attraction she had no time for.

  Not with a young girl’s life on the line.

  He washed the blood from his hands, ignoring Prissy’s constant sobs.

  He’d butchered a coyote and watched the blood spatter. He’d had the damned thing in the car in a trash bag when he’d picked up the girl. When she’d tried to escape, he’d dumped the animal and chased her.

  In his secret room, he scanned the things he’d kept from the others. Backpacks filled with teenage stuff that had no value except to the dreamy-eyed adolescents who lusted after the boys.

  JJ’s stood out amongst the dusty packs.

  A ragged hand-me-down army-green one she must have gotten from a thrift store. He ran his finger along the silly piece of lace she’d tied around the strap, as if she’d thought it made the bag look more feminine.

  Probably her attempt to distract the kids her age from seeing its ragged state and making fun of her.

  The lace had yellowed, and the fabric was fraying. He didn’t know why he’d kept it, but inside it held pages of her diary. The words she’d poured from her soul.

  Words of pain and hatred for her foster family. Words of shame for the fact that she had no parents. No one to love her.

  Words of yearning for a real home.

  But he loved her. And he’d wanted to keep her. He had high hopes for her. Had thought by letting her go she might turn to the Lord and lead others to His kingdom.

  He ripped a page from the diary—a passage about wanting to belong—folded it and put it in a plain manila envelope, then headed outside to his truck.

  The scent of the coyote’s blood lingered on his skin, but it was JJ’s scent that tormented him. Fifteen years later and he could smell her sweet innocence as vividly as he had back then.

  Dark clouds hovered above, rain beating down just as it had the night he’d found her. He thought of her every time it rained.

  She was looking for him now.

  A smile curved his mouth. She probably dreamed about him in her sleep.

  Knowing she was this close to him made him curious. If he walked up to her, would she know who he was?

  Another smile tugged at his lips. He wanted her to know.

  Except then she’d turn him in.

  And he had more work to do. More souls to save.

  More lives to offer up for his own redemption.

  He left the cave and wove through the mountain roads, his tires grinding the gravel, then veered down the road to those cabins.

  Five minutes later, he scanned the area surrounding the cabin. No cars. She wasn’t there.

  A smile creased his face as he jumped out, slogged through the rain, and left the journal page tucked inside the screened door.

  He wanted JJ to know that he was watching. That he could get to her again if he wanted.

  The rain slacked off slightly as Ian parked at Beth’s cabin and walked her to the porch.

  “I live two doors down,” Ian said. “If you need anything tonight, call.”

  Beth patted her jacket where her holster was hidden beneath. “I can take care of myself, Ian.”

  The fact that she’d been victimized stood between them, a fact he dare not point out. Beth had survived, and she was strong and determined.

  She pulled keys from her shoulder bag but came to an abrupt halt at the door.

  Ian caught her arm to keep from bumping her. Then he saw what had gotten her attention.

  A plain manila envelope was tucked inside the screened door.

  His nerves jumped to attention, and he scanned the property. Nothing in the yard except trees. Woods in the back.

  Bushes parted. Was someone in those trees? Ian stepped to the side, his senses honed as he searched the perimeter.

  Another movement. A body?

  No . . . a coyote.

  Beth yanked on rubber gloves, then ripped the envelope from the door and tore it open. Her face paled as she searched the contents.

  “What is it?”

  “A page from my childhood diary,” Beth said in a haunted whisper.

  “I don’t understand.”

  Her shocked gaze lifted to his. “It was in my backpack the night I was taken.”

  Ian silently cursed. Her backpack had never been recovered.

  Meaning her abductor—Sunny’s killer—had kept it all these years.

  “He knows where I am, and he wants me to know that,” Beth said in a voice oddly strong considering she looked as if her worst nightmare had come true.

  Ian gently touched her elbow. She needed his support, but she’d probably bite his head off if he crossed the line and pulled her up against him.

  Although that was exactly what he wanted to do.

  “I wrote all my thoughts down in that stupid book. I don’t know why I took it with me that night,” she said in a self-deprecating tone. “I was too ashamed of what was going on in that house to let anyone find out.”

  Ian choked back a curse. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. That shithead foster father and mother did. And so does the social worker who placed you there.”

  “She thought he was a God-fearing man,” Beth said, her voice faltering.

  Ian yanked on gloves, took the envelope from her, and then reached for the page. “Let me send this to the lab. Maybe he left his prints on it.”

  Beth clutched the page back to her chest. “These are my private thoughts. I don’t want anyone to read them.”

  For a heartbeat, they stared at each other. Ian had no idea what she’d written on that page, but reading it would be a violation of her privacy.

  “What if there’s some evidence on it?” he asked.

  Her hand trembled. “You’re right. I’ll have the lab analyze it.”

  He inhaled a calming breath. “Good.” He removed his gun from his holster. “Let me check out your place.”

  “We’ll both do it.” Beth switched to investigative mode so quickly he didn’t know how to respond. She yanked her weapon fro
m her holster and turned the knob.

  It was unlocked.

  He signaled to let him enter first. As he opened the door, he scanned the interior.

  A lamp glowed in the corner.

  “Did you leave that light on?” he asked.

  Beth nodded, her face strained. He remembered her comment about the unsub lighting a candle to help assuage his victims’ fear and wondered if Beth was afraid of the dark.

  He paused in the doorway to listen for a noise, a voice, footsteps, anything to indicate someone was inside.

  Nothing.

  Holding his gun at the ready, he inched inside, instincts alert as he glanced left and right. The kitchen appeared empty. So did the adjoining den.

  Only the bathroom and bedroom left.

  Beth’s breathing rattled as she followed him. He swept the hallway with his eyes, then crept into the hall. Bathroom on the left. He flicked the light on.

  Empty.

  Beth flipped the switch for the bedroom light. He moved behind her, braced for an attack.

  But everything was quiet.

  “Do you see anything missing? Out of place?” he whispered against her neck.

  Beth gripped the door edge. “That candle by my bed. It wasn’t there before.”

  Dammit to hell, the killer had been inside her house.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Cold fear immobilized Beth. She thought she’d prepared herself for the time she might face her abductor.

  She wished to hell he was here. Instead, the sneaky slimeball had left her a reminder of the past to torment her.

  Bitterness welled inside her. Years ago, he’d robbed her of what was left of her innocence. Of her peace of mind.

  Of the final shreds of her trust.

  She didn’t intend to let him hurt her again.

  “He’s getting cocky,” Ian said. “That means he’ll make a mistake.”

  Images of the sicko reading her most private thoughts, knowing her pain, made her fury rise. “He kept JJ’s diary all this time.”

  “You mean yours, Beth,” Ian said softly. “You changed your name, but you’re JJ.”

  “No, I’m not the same person.” Beth balled her hands into fists. “JJ was street smart and tough. But she believed she had a future. Herman Otter only wanted her for the money and what she could do for him, but she’d hoped for a family to love her one day. Beth knows that’s not possible.”

  “You can have all that,” Ian said gruffly.

  The silence that fell vibrated with emotions. Beth hated herself for exposing her worst fears, her neediness.

  Ian laid a hand on her shoulder and forced her to look at him. “Beth, the man who abducted you may have stolen your childhood and your memory, but you’re stronger because of it.”

  She didn’t want to be strong. She wanted to be whole again. “I’m damaged,” she said, her throat raw with tears she refused to cry. “JJ died that day when she woke up with no memory.”

  And if Beth didn’t remember what had happened to her when she was JJ, she couldn’t save Prissy or anyone else.

  Then he would win.

  Ian brushed Beth’s cheek as gently as he could with his thumb. It had been a long damn day for both of them. Worse, she’d suffered a shock and needed tenderness.

  She jerked her head to the side to pull away, but his fingers trailed along her cheek. “Look at me, Beth. You are not damaged. What happened to you was tragic, but it shaped you into someone who protects others. You help children and families.” He rubbed his palm against her cheek, his breath catching when she leaned into him and pressed her hand over his.

  Her skin felt soft, warm, tender. The air between them became charged. Intense. Steeped with an attraction that had been building since they’d reconnected.

  “You save others because you couldn’t save Sunny,” he murmured. “Maybe you survived so you could track him down and get justice for what he did.”

  Beth closed her eyes, a single tear seeping out. “I feel like I left her behind,” she whispered. “If I could just see his face . . .”

  Her voice faltered, and Ian did what he’d wanted to do since she’d come back into his life. He curved his arms around her. “Shh, it’s okay. We have a team looking for him. It’s not all on you now, Beth.”

  Beth tensed at his touch, her breathing shaky. But he didn’t release her. He stroked her back, rubbing slow circles between her shoulder blades. More than anything he wanted to assuage her pain. But to do that, he needed to win her trust.

  He didn’t deserve it, not after he’d let her down fifteen years ago.

  But he wanted it anyway.

  “You are so much more than what happened to you, Beth. Don’t ever let anyone tell you you’re not.” A strand of her hair brushed his neck, teasing him with its softness and the possibility of what it would feel like to run his fingers through the strands.

  To unfasten that clasp and help her forget her inhibitions, her pain.

  Her past.

  Instead, she needed his friendship. His expertise in finding the man who’d hurt her. So he tucked the strand back into her bun. “You and I are going to make up for what happened back then,” he said in a gruff tone.

  Then she’d never have to look over her shoulder again.

  Beth had blamed herself for so long that Ian’s words eased that pain. Although she couldn’t completely let go of the guilt, at least she wasn’t alone.

  Ian wanted to catch this man as much as she did.

  The hard planes of his body gave her strength. The steady beating of his heart soothed her nerves. Yet, his touch elicited feelings she hadn’t experienced before.

  Need. Hunger for a man’s love. A closeness that she craved but didn’t know how to deal with—she’d never let anyone into her heart.

  “I’m calling the crime team to process your place. If the bastard left a strand of hair, we’ll find it.”

  Beth hesitated. A crime team meant more people pawing through her things. In her space.

  But she’d do whatever was necessary. This place wasn’t her home. It was a rental cabin. She had nothing personal here.

  He’d practically challenged her to find him.

  And they would find him.

  Ian rubbed her arms as if he was reluctant to break the contact, but Beth averted her gaze from his probing eyes. She couldn’t drop her defenses.

  She had to be strong.

  When this was over, they’d go their separate ways. Then she’d be alone again.

  Her chest squeezed at the thought. But she ignored the twinge of yearning and told him to make the call.

  Ian wanted to pull Beth back into his arms, but he restrained himself.

  He had no business getting intimate with her.

  You were only comforting her.

  Yeah, right. It had started out that way, but holding her in his arms made him want more.

  He couldn’t push her, though. Their past was too complicated. They had answers to find.

  That was all that mattered. Solving this case once and for all. Then the families could find closure. Beth would have peace.

  Not knowing had stalled his life just as it had Beth’s.

  Ian phoned Lieutenant Ward, head of the CSU, and explained about the break-in.

  Beth resorted to agent mode as well and began opening dresser drawers, checking to see if the unsub had taken anything.

  “Anything missing?” he asked.

  She shook her head, then stepped into the closet. Her shoes were neatly organized, boring suits hung at even intervals.

  More OCD—her way of being in control.

  Damn, he wanted to throw away those suits and see her in something sexy.

  The thought made him break out in a sweat.

  “He left the page from my diary and the candle as a message that he knows where I am,” Beth said. “That he’s coming back for me.”

  “I wonder why he kept your diary?”

  Beth twisted her mouth in thought. �
�Maybe because he let me go. He wanted something of mine as a souvenir. He kept blood from the other victims.”

  Sick creep.

  An engine rumbled outside. “That should be CSU,” Ian said.

  This bastard had the nerve to show up at Beth’s place—he might be rattled enough by her presence that he’d gotten sloppy and left evidence behind.

  Just one mistake and they could catch him.

  Beth walked outside on the back porch as the crime workers dusted the cabin for prints and processed the interior. She should give them the diary page, but she wanted to hold on to it for tonight. Maybe rereading it would trigger some memories.

  Rain drizzled from the trees, leaves rustling. Thunder clapped and lightning streaked the mountaintops just like it had that horrible night fifteen years ago.

  The religious rituals associated with the crime reminded her of her childhood.

  “Reverend Benton says that thunder is God’s way of shouting His wrath,” Herman Otter used to say.

  Once she’d shouted back that God was angry at Herman for being such a pervert. She’d earned a hard slap for her smart mouth.

  She touched the narrow scar on her forehead where she’d hit her head on the end table when she’d fallen.

  After that, she’d learned to keep her mouth shut.

  “I’ll find who did this, Sunny, I promise,” she whispered to the heavens.

  Footsteps made the floor creak, and Ian approached. “They’re finished.”

  She rubbed her arms to ward off the chill. “Good, I’ll clean.”

  Ian caught her arm. “Let me call someone to do that. I’ll drive you to a motel.”

  Beth shook her head. “No way that man is making me run again, Ian. I’m staying here.”

  Ian’s expression darkened. “What if he comes back?”

  She patted her gun. “Then I’ll be ready.”

  He squeezed her arms. “You’re not going to use yourself as bait. That’s too dangerous.”

  “I’m a trained agent, Ian. I know what I’m doing.”

  “Do you?” His voice grew rough. “Or do you want revenge so badly that you’re not thinking straight? If that’s the case, I’ll tell Vance that you’re emotionally compromised and endangering the case.”