All the Dead Girls (Graveyard Falls Book 3)

by Rita Herron

  “Check the cave for Beth,” Ian said. “I saw someone in the woods. I’m going after him.”

  Fear shot through him, and he ran past the cave toward the bushes.

  He gripped his gun, ready to shoot as he charged forward. A tree limb moved. More footsteps ahead.

  Then a figure disappeared through the trees. “Stop, police!”

  But the figure didn’t slow.

  Ian picked up his pace and fired, then heard a grunt. The figure veered to the left. He dashed forward and released another shot. Tree limbs shook, and leaves scattered as the bushes parted.

  Dammit, the perp was getting away.

  Ian pushed through the bushes, then ran through a cluster of pines and searched the forest. The figure had disappeared again.

  But Beth was lying against a rock, unmoving.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Ian quickly knelt and checked Beth’s pulse. She was so still, her face pale, and blood matted her hair. He checked for a gunshot wound, but it looked as if she’d hit her head on a rock.

  “Beth, honey, talk to me.” He leaned closer to her, listening for a breath. Seconds ticked by.

  Finally her chest rose and fell.

  Relief surged through him.

  A voice broke the quiet. “Sheriff?”

  Ian pivoted slightly to see Lieutenant Ward approaching.

  “Call an ambulance,” Ian said. “And stay with her. I’m going after him.”

  “Medics are on the way,” Ward said.

  Ian reluctantly left Beth with the CSU and sprinted into the woods. He was so close to catching this SOB, he couldn’t waste a second.

  Bushes parted as he wove through them. Tree limbs snapped and popped. He cursed as he nearly stumbled over a rotting tree stump. The scent of a dead animal assaulted him. A mauled creature in the bushes.

  Ahead the forest sounds grew quiet. Wind shrieked through the pines, and another animal wailed. The sound of the river rushed over rocks.

  He pivoted toward it, shining his light in a wide arc as he searched for the unsub. Something moved to the left.

  His gun at the ready, Ian braced for an attack.

  A mountain lion growled on a cliff above, its eyes glowing in the dark. For a moment, Ian sensed it was staring straight at him, daring him to charge.

  The forest became eerily quiet.

  No voices. No footsteps. No trees parting or twigs breaking.

  Then a snake hissed behind him.

  Ian cursed, spun around, and saw the rattler in the weeds, a reminder that dangers lurked everywhere in these mountains and came in all forms.

  “Fuck you,” he muttered to the snake. He fired at the snake, then heard the mountain lion trot away.

  But there was no sign of the unsub.

  Where the hell had he gone? How had he escaped?

  He strode a few more feet. The sound of a motor rumbled in the air. A boat.

  Shit. The unsub had come via boat, parked along the river, and then carried his victims inside the cave.

  He checked his phone for reception, then phoned Whitehorse. “Prissy Carson is dead. We found her body in a cave in the mountains. We need a chopper to comb the area along the river heading due east from the coordinates I’m texting you.”

  “They won’t be able to find anything this late,” Deputy Whitehorse said.

  “Then tell them at first light to get on it. I want to know where every house, trailer, RV, or campsite is. And I want every one of them searched.”

  “Copy that,” Deputy Whitehorse said.

  “I also need you to make the notification of death to the mother.”

  A tense silence stretched between them. Death notifications were the worst part of a cop’s job.

  Whitehorse had been forced to tell his own sister when their mother had been murdered three years ago.

  But his deputy didn’t argue. “Yes, sir.”

  Ian thanked him, then called Markum and explained about the attack. “Where’s Benton?”

  “I don’t know. He must have slipped out the back.”

  Dammit.

  “Find him, Markum.”

  He hung up with a curse. Heart racing, he headed back toward Beth and the cave. Sweat trickled down his neck as he jogged through the woods. The stench of that dead animal assaulted him again, but it was the sight of Beth lying unconscious that made his stomach clench.

  He’d promised her justice.

  If he failed her a second time, he might as well turn in his badge.

  Beth was falling into a deep dark hole.

  She flailed her arms in search of something to hold on to, but her fingers connected with empty air.

  Sunny’s screams boomeranged off the cave walls. The metallic scent of blood swirled around her.

  The faces of the other dead girls floated by her, skeletal hands reaching out, pleading for her to save them.

  Prissy—her shocked eyes begged for mercy. She’d wanted to live.

  Beth hit the hard ground. Then the earth split and sucked her deeper under the surface. More skeletons sailed at her, pummeling her as the grave swallowed her.

  “Beth, honey, wake up. Tell me you’re all right.”

  That voice . . . It was familiar.

  Almost as familiar as the face of the man hovering above her with the knife.

  She screamed, kicked, and pushed at him as he came closer. Then the prick of the knife. Her own blood seeping out.

  Blood dripped onto the bones beneath her, the bones he’d made into a bed.

  “Beth, can you hear me?”

  Yes, and she wanted to go back to him. Escape this grave of horror.

  But she needed to stay here, too. There was some reason . . . What was it?

  His face.

  She searched the shadows. She needed to see his eyes. Needed to know what he looked like.

  The shadow moved. Another inch closer. Then the second figure, smaller.

  “We have to let her go, Father.”

  She gasped. That other person . . . He was her age.

  Dear God, she’d seen him before. Somewhere at school.

  Who was he?

  Worry knotted Ian’s stomach as he rode in the ambulance with Beth. He’d left Lieutenant Ward the police car and convinced the medics that he needed to be at Beth’s side in case she regained consciousness and could identify her attacker.

  “What happened?” the medic in back asked.

  “She’s an FBI agent working the boneyard murders. We were investigating and someone attacked her.” He lifted her hand in his and squeezed it, hoping for a reaction, but Beth didn’t respond. “I’m going to take samples of the blood on her face and scrape beneath her nails in case her attacker left DNA.”

  The medic agreed and watched as Ian examined her hands and face and collected the samples. He found an errant hair strand that looked a lighter shade of brown than Beth’s and bagged it to send to the lab.

  The siren wailed, lights flashing, as they careened into the hospital.

  Beth hadn’t stirred—but she was alive.

  The medics jumped out and rushed into the ER entrance with Beth. A nurse met them, and the information exchange began.

  “BP is low and thready, heart rate steady. Head injury . . .”

  Their words blurred in his mind as he followed them inside and they rushed her to a triage room.

  Beth opened her eyes and blinked at the bright lights. Machines and voices hummed around her. The scent of antiseptic and medicine permeated her nostrils.

  “She’s back with us,” a female voice said. “Hello there, Agent Fields. You’re in the hospital.”

  Beth blinked again, confused as she stared into a pair of green eyes. A nurse.

  She tried to speak, but her throat was so dry she had to swallow twice to make her voice work. “What happened?”

  “The sheriff who brought you in said you were attacked.”

  The last few hours rushed back. She was in the cave where Sunny had died. She hadn�
��t wanted to leave Prissy Carson alone. Then someone had snuck in . . .

  A male figure in a white coat joined the nurse. “Glad to see you’ve regained consciousness. You have a few stitches in your head and a slight concussion. You’ll probably have a headache for a couple of days, but the MRI was clean.”

  Beth shoved at the sheet covering her. “I have to go. I’m working a case.”

  The doctor put out a hand to stop her from climbing from the bed. “You’re not going anywhere tonight, Agent Fields.”

  “I’ll get the sheriff.” The nurse’s footsteps padded slowly as she left.

  The room spun, and Beth sank back against the pillow. God help her, she needed to find this bastard.

  “We want to keep you overnight for observation,” the doctor said.

  The door swung open, and Ian appeared, his jaw set tight, his dark eyes pinning her in place. “Beth?”

  “I’m fine,” she murmured, although frustration and a feeling of helplessness brought tears to her eyes. She blinked them away. She was an agent, not some weak victim.

  Not anymore.

  Except the maniac who’d killed her friend had ambushed her. Because she’d let her emotions get the best of her.

  It wouldn’t happen again.

  Ian paused by her bed and looked up at the doctor. “Is she going to be all right?”

  “A light concussion, a few stitches, but the MRI was clean. She should be fine to go home in the morning.”

  “I want to leave now,” Beth said, pushing herself up to a sitting position. “We have to find him before he hurts someone else.”

  Ian squeezed her hand. “We will, Beth, but you’re not going anywhere. You need rest.”

  She gripped the edge of the bed with white-knuckled fists. “I should have stopped him a long time ago. I have to do it now.”

  The doctor cleared his throat. “We’ll leave you two to talk.”

  The doctor and nurse left the room, and Beth twisted the sheets between her fingers. “I can’t believe I let him escape.”

  Ian offered her a sympathetic smile. “You didn’t let him get away, Beth. He assaulted you. Judging from your broken nails, I have a feeling you put up a fight.”

  Her heart fluttered. “You got DNA?”

  “I scraped under your nails and sent it to the lab.” He stroked a strand of hair from her forehead, his hand so tender that tears threatened again. “Because you fought, we might be able to ID him.”

  Beth’s head throbbed relentlessly. She closed her eyes, but the attack had stirred memories to life as if it were happening all over again.

  “I remembered something, Ian. When I was abducted—he wasn’t alone.”

  Ian’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

  “There were two of them,” Beth whispered. “A father and a son.” She reached for Ian’s hand and clung to it. “I think I knew the boy. I’m almost certain he attended high school with us.”

  Two killers could explain how there were so many dead girls over the years and the time span between some of the kills.

  Also, one killer could provide a diversion while the other lured the victim into a trap. The girls trusted the teenager because he was near their age.

  The religious aspects pointed toward Reverend Wally Benton as a person of interest. If he’d killed Sunny, had his son Jim been there to watch? Or to assist?

  “If one of the killers attended our school, maybe there’s something about him in my father’s files. That’s the reason my father wanted to give them to you.”

  Beth nodded. “We have to get them.”

  Ian gently pressed her back onto the bed. “I’ll go.”

  “But Ian—”

  “Listen, Beth, the crime team is processing the cave, Deputy Whitehorse is notifying Prissy’s mother of her death, and you just gave us a clue.” He stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “I’ll bring the files here. If you’re up to it, we’ll study them together.”

  He’d track down a yearbook of the students that year as well.

  If Beth saw the boy’s photograph, maybe she’d finally recognize him and put a name to their killer.

  He guided the boat to the edge of the creek, his adrenaline churning. He’d had JJ in his hands. A few more minutes and he could have escaped with her.

  He knew she wanted answers. She didn’t understand why he’d let her go and killed her friend.

  He wanted to tell her.

  He’d kept his secret long enough.

  But it had been a close call in the woods. Too close. The sheriff had almost caught him.

  Had JJ seen his face this time? Would she remember him after all these years?

  His son sat looking at his hands, mesmerized by the blood staining his fingers. For so long he’d studied the blood. Kept it and researched the elements.

  He wanted to know what made some blood bad and others untainted by evil.

  So far he hadn’t found the answer.

  But he wouldn’t give up.

  If he did, they would have died for nothing.

  His son made a low sound in his throat. He’d worried the boy wouldn’t accept the Calling, that he had his own plans and would defy his destiny.

  His anxiety dissipated as a smile creased the boy’s face.

  “You have someone in mind, don’t you, son? Someone who needs saving?”

  The boy nodded.

  And everything was as it should be.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Something was wrong.

  Vanessa heard Grandma Cocoa on the phone. “That’s awful. Yes, I’ll tell her.”

  Vanessa pressed her hand over her mouth and started to shake. It was bad news. It had to be about Prissy.

  She stepped into the kitchen. Grandma Cocoa was leaning on the counter clutching her chest. She gasped for a breath and then dropped the phone.

  “Grandma?”

  “Vanessa, baby . . .” Grandma Cocoa swayed and staggered to a chair.

  Terrified, Vanessa ran over to help her. “What’s wrong, Grandma?”

  Sweat beaded on her grandma’s face. “Baby, they found Prissy.”

  Tears pricked at Vanessa’s eyes. For Grandma to look this bad, the news must be awful.

  “I’m sorry, honey,” her grandma wheezed.

  Tears blurred Vanessa’s eyes. She wanted to scream no and hit something. Prissy couldn’t be dead. She was her age. Just a kid.

  They were supposed to be best friends forever. Be college roommates. Bridesmaids in each other’s weddings.

  Grandma Cocoa’s eyes turned glassy. More sweat drenched her face. She made a pained sound and toppled from the chair.

  “Grandma!” Vanessa dropped down beside her. But Grandma Cocoa didn’t move. Was she breathing?

  Cold terror choked Vanessa.

  She’d lost her best friend. She couldn’t lose her grandma.

  Vanessa shook her shoulder. “Grandma!”

  Nothing.

  Fear seized her. She had to do something. Get help.

  Vanessa ran for her grandma’s phone. Her hands shook as she pressed 911. “Please help,” she cried. “My grandma passed out. She’s on the floor . . .”

  “Where are you, honey?” the 911 operator asked.

  Vanessa spit out their address between sobs.

  “I’ll have someone stand guard by your room while I retrieve those files,” Ian said.

  “That’s not necessary, Ian.” Beth clenched the sheet between her fingers. “He won’t take a chance by coming here, not with all the staff around.”

  Ian wasn’t so sure. But they were short on manpower. “I’ll alert security not to allow anyone in your room.”

  “Thanks.” Beth closed her eyes as if she couldn’t keep them open any longer.

  Ian stroked her forehead. She needed rest. And the nurses would be monitoring her for the concussion.

  He hesitated, though. She could have been killed tonight. Lost forever. All because he’d left her in the cave alone.

 
; But if he didn’t find this unsub, the maniac would come back for her. Beth thought there were two of them . . . that complicated the case more.

  His fingers brushed her hair again, and need heated his blood. Unable to resist, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Get some rest, Beth. I’ll be back. I promise.”

  Her eyelids fluttered open for a moment, and their gazes locked. A spark of attraction he didn’t want to feel ignited in his gut.

  Her eyes flared with recognition as if she felt it, too.

  Or maybe he’d imagined it. She was half-asleep and injured.

  Fool. How could Beth feel anything for him after he’d let her down fifteen years ago?

  That brutal reminder sent him toward the door. He stepped into the hall and explained to the nurse that he had to leave.

  She promised they’d keep a close eye on Beth, and he hurried to see his father.

  Dammit, his father looked exactly as he’d left him.

  Ashen-faced and comatose. What if he never regained consciousness?

  Machines beeped, blending with Ian’s footsteps. He laid a hand on his father’s arm. “Dad, I’m working hard to find the man who killed those girls. Beth finally remembered something—she says it’s a father-and-son team.” Emotions thickened his throat. Once he and this man had been a team.

  He wanted that again.

  “I’m going after those files, and we’ll prove your innocence.” Although nothing could replace the fifteen years of his life his father had lost.

  He stood for another few minutes talking quietly, hoping that his father would hear his voice and that hope would help him heal.

  “Fight, Dad, fight,” Ian said. Then he squeezed his father’s hand and left.

  Just as he headed out the ER door, a car screeched up behind an ambulance. Cocoa’s husband, Deon, and Vanessa jumped out. Both looked terrified. Vanessa was crying.

  Ian jogged toward them. “What happened?”

  Cocoa’s husband wiped at his sweaty forehead. “Cocoa heard the Carson girl was dead, and she collapsed.”

  Vanessa sobbed against her grandfather while the medics unloaded Cocoa.

  Emotions flooded Ian. Cocoa was like a mother to everyone in Graveyard Falls, including him. She had to be all right.

  The town needed her.