All the Dead Girls (Graveyard Falls Book 3)

by Rita Herron

  Fear slithered through Tandy. Jim and the other men claimed they were doing God’s will.

  She didn’t agree. Every time she heard the girls crying and screaming, she wanted to intervene.

  She wanted to tell.

  But telling would mean she’d be punished. It wouldn’t stop them.

  Nothing would.

  Beth curled into Ian’s arms, warm and sated, and already craving more.

  Exhaustion tugged at her limbs, but her mind relived each delicious second Ian had touched her.

  He stroked her arm with his fingers, a gentle soothing motion that finally relaxed her into sleep.

  She dreamed she was standing in a green field of wildflowers with butterflies fluttering around while she and Ian exchanged wedding vows. The breeze ruffled his hair, making him look sexier than a man had a right to be. But it was the love in his eyes that warmed her body and soul.

  The sound of a phone buzzing jarred her from sleep.

  Beth opened her eyes, disoriented. She wasn’t in a field of flowers. And she was cold.

  She raked her hand across the bed, but it was empty.

  Damn. The dream . . . was just a dream.

  Ian’s deep voice echoed from the bathroom. She slipped from bed, pulled on her bathrobe, and went to the door. It was the middle of the night.

  “Listen, Deon, have you tried her friends?” Ian asked.

  “What’s wrong?” Beth whispered.

  Ian motioned for her to hang on. “How about the hospital?” A pause. “She’s not there. Okay, I’ll get my men looking for her right away,” Ian said. “Call me if you hear from her or think of someplace she might have gone.”

  He ended the call, worry flashing in his eyes. “That was Vanessa’s grandfather. Vanessa is missing.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Beth fidgeted with the belt to her robe. “Are you sure she’s missing?”

  A muscle ticked in Ian’s jaw. He grabbed his shirt and yanked it on. “She wanted to stay at the hospital with Cocoa, but he thought it would be best if she went to school. He assumed she came home from school and fell asleep last night. But when he went home to change, her bed hadn’t been slept in.”

  Beth’s pulse clamored. The poor young girl had suffered heartache over Prissy, and then she’d nearly lost her grandmother.

  “She’s scared,” Beth said, thinking out loud. “Her grandparents are all she has. Did he check with her friends?”

  “Yeah, the few she has.” Ian pulled on his jeans and zipped them.

  Beth couldn’t tear her gaze from the masculine movement. Just a short time ago, she’d been lying naked in his arms. She wanted to go back to that blissful place.

  Not to think about another missing teenager.

  But she couldn’t ignore the facts. So she quickly dressed. “Ian, what if she didn’t just run off? What if we’re wrong about the Lewises and the unsubs are out there? They could have Vanessa.”

  Fear slashed Ian’s face.

  “I’ll issue an APB for her and get my deputy to search around town.” He dropped a quick kiss on her cheek. “Stay here and rest.”

  Beth pressed one hand to his jaw. “There’s no way I could sleep knowing Vanessa is out there alone and scared.” Or in the hands of a madman.

  Ian gave a quick nod, his expression worried. Then he ran his hand down her backside. “I’m sorry. I wanted to go back to bed with you and wake up with you in the morning.”

  A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Good, I was afraid you’d have regrets.”

  “I think I’m supposed to say that to you.”

  “Don’t bother,” Beth said softly. “It was too good to regret it.”

  She could have sworn his cheeks flushed, but his phone buzzed again and he snatched it up. Knowing they had to look for Vanessa, she hurried into the bathroom and washed her face.

  Her cheeks looked pink from their lovemaking, her lips swollen from his kisses.

  Making love to Ian again had to wait. She grabbed her gun and holster.

  Vanessa was in trouble. She needed them.

  They’d failed Prissy Carson.

  They couldn’t let Vanessa down.

  Ian gripped the phone with clammy hands. “It’s Kimball.”

  “This is Peyton. I figured Beth might be resting, but you’d want results from forensics as soon as I got them.”

  “What do you have?”

  “I ran a few of Lewis’s blood vials and the blood was his. The blood from the paintings Agents Hamrick and Coulter collected matches our vics. Lewis’s fingerprints are not anywhere on the paintings either.”

  Ian chewed over that information. “So Lewis didn’t send the paintings to the families?”

  “Not unless he has another studio or blood collection that we don’t know about.”

  “He said using his blood was his signature. Was any of his blood in the paintings the families received?”

  “Not that the lab found.”

  “What about the blood on Ralph Lewis’s shirt?”

  “His own.”

  Shit. “Did you find anything on those items confiscated from Hugh Lewis’s truck?”

  “They belonged to three teenagers who attend Benton’s church. Your deputies verified it when they canvassed the parishioners.” Peyton paused. “All three girls are alive and accounted for. Although all three have been admitted to the ER over the past year.”

  “What for?”

  “One was dehydration, another of a snake bite. The third had bruises on her body as well.” Peyton made a sound of disgust. “All three also bore scars from rope burns on their wrists and ankles. Because of that, the doctors notified social services.”

  “Something’s going on in that church community.” Ian jangled his keys as Beth pulled on her jacket and indicated she was ready to go.

  “Sounds like it,” Peyton agreed. “But the girls were taken for medical care by family members.”

  So the families did care about the girls. Maybe that’s why they’d survived.

  “You think you could be wrong about the Lewis men?” Peyton asked.

  Ian didn’t want to be wrong. He wanted this damn case closed. But he had to keep his mind open to the possibility that although the Lewises might be involved in something questionable, they weren’t the unsubs.

  Which meant the killer—rather, killers—remained on the loose.

  And one or both of them might have Vanessa.

  By six in the morning Deputy Whitehorse had commandeered Weller to organize a search party for Vanessa. Half the town had shown up to search.

  Beth’s emotions ping-ponged between fear that they had the wrong men in custody and hope that Vanessa was simply upset and hiding out with a friend.

  By eight, she and Ian drove to the school to meet with the school principal and counselor.

  “I talked to Vanessa’s grandfather,” the counselor said. “We made an announcement asking anyone who may have talked to or seen Vanessa to come to my office.”

  “What about that kid Blaine Emerson?” Beth said. “Do you think he’d do something to her?”

  Miss Anderson shrugged. “Blaine and his friends are snarky, but he’s never been violent before. I talked to him after you left the other day, and he assured me he had no idea what happened to Prissy. He even seemed remorseful about what he’d done.”

  He should be. “Tell us about Vanessa,” Beth said. “Her grandfather mentioned that she didn’t have many friends.”

  “She’s shy,” the counselor said. “Her only real friend was Prissy. Although I saw a junior, Milo, talking to her.”

  “Milo?” Beth asked.

  “Milo Cain. He’s a loner, too. A genius with computers. He’s seriously into gaming. He relates more to technology and science than to the other students.”

  He was the kid wearing the white coat she and Ian had seen at school the day they’d questioned students about Prissy.

  “Can you ask him to come to the office?
” Ian asked.

  She nodded, then checked her computer for his class schedule. “I can’t. He’s absent today. Father called and said he has the flu.”

  “Did Vanessa discuss personal problems with you?” Beth asked.

  The young woman fidgeted. “You know I can’t divulge our private conversations.”

  “Does that mean you were counseling her?” Ian asked.

  Indecision played across the woman’s face. “I tried to convince her to join a teen support group, but she wasn’t interested.”

  Ian cleared his throat. “We saw her grandmother and Vanessa talking to Reverend Benton at the revival. Did she ever talk about that?”

  A wary look crossed her face. “I probably shouldn’t divulge this, but Vanessa said the preacher suggested performing an exorcism to purge the demon trying to possess Vanessa’s soul.”

  Beth went rigid. “The demon?”

  “That’s what she said.” Miss Anderson rolled her eyes. “I planned to talk to her grandmother about it, but Vanessa didn’t want me to.”

  Beth’s throat thickened with revulsion. She’d seen the senior Benton performing an exorcism, and it had terrified her.

  Was Reverend Benton killing the girls he deemed had failed to be purged of the demons?

  Every second that passed increased Ian’s anxiety as he drove toward the reverend’s house. He relayed the information Peyton had passed along.

  “You think we have the wrong men in jail?” Beth asked.

  Ian grunted. “I don’t know. But we can’t take any chances.”

  Her soft sigh reminded him of the passionate night they’d shared.

  He wanted her again.

  His heartbeat stuttered. He’d never felt such a strong connection to a woman before.

  Was it his guilt over what had happened to her, or could there be something else? Was he . . . falling in love with Beth?

  An image of the two of them—living together, sharing a house, building a family—teased him. He’d never imagined having a family of his own.

  Not . . . since he’d lost his own years ago.

  He swung onto the street leading to the church and the parsonage.

  A young man and his wife were walking their dog, but she kept her head bent down almost as if she feared the man.

  He’d seen his mother display similar behavior.

  His stomach clenched into a knot. Just what was going on in this church community? Was his mother afraid of Bernard?

  He pulled into Benton’s drive and parked behind a black Cadillac. Beth opened the door and climbed out, her movements agitated. They rushed up to the door, and he rang the doorbell.

  Seconds later, the door opened. Reverend Benton’s wife, Tandy, stood on the other side, her arms wrapped around her waist. Dark circles beneath her eyes suggested she hadn’t slept much the night before, and her chin quivered as if she wanted to say something but was too afraid.

  “We need to speak to your husband,” Ian said. “Is he here?”

  She jiggled her foot. “What do you need to see him about?”

  “We just want to talk to him,” Beth said calmly.

  Benton’s wife lifted a shaky finger and pointed toward a door in the hallway that appeared to lead to a basement. “He won’t like it if you go down there.”

  Ian gave her a cold look. He didn’t give a fuck what the man liked.

  Beth gently touched her arm. “Mrs. Benton, is there something you’d like to tell us?”

  She fidgeted with the wooden cross around her neck. The details of the design were identical to the one his mother wore. Wooden, carved with flowers.

  They’d also found crosses with the bodies. Except they were simple gold ones.

  Mrs. Benton cast her head down and murmured a no.

  Ian strode past her, adrenaline kicking in.

  Just as he reached for the doorknob, a scream filled the air.

  Beth’s eyes widened in alarm, and she slid her gun from the holster. He yanked the door open and raced down the steps.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Gun drawn, Beth followed Ian down the steps.

  A low light hung from an overhead chain, centered over a table where a young girl lay tied to posts.

  Beth’s breath caught.

  Not Vanessa.

  “Please, stop!” the girl cried. “I’m not bad. You can’t do this to me!”

  “Move away from her,” Beth said between gritted teeth.

  Ian inched up behind Beth. Out of the corner of her eye, the shiny metal of his gun glinted. “You heard what she said, Reverend,” Ian growled.

  A woman and man stood to the side, the woman crying in the man’s arms as they watched. Had to be the teenager’s parents.

  The girl jerked at the thick ropes. Her wrists and ankles were raw from fighting to free herself. “Help me, please, help me.”

  Reverend Benton lifted his hands in surrender, his face stone cold. “You have no right to come into my house with a gun.”

  Beth’s heart hardened. “And you have no right to tie this girl down and torture her.”

  “I’m not torturing her,” Benton said. “And I have every right. I am the spiritual leader of our church and am sanctioned to oversee my parishioners.”

  Beth rushed to the girl and began to untie her wrists. The girl was sobbing openly, her body shaking, her eyes glazed and unfocused.

  Ian addressed the parents. “How can you stand by and watch this man terrorize your child and do nothing?”

  “Our daughter is out of control,” the father said, a mixture of anger and fear streaking his face. “Reverend Benton knows how to handle adolescents like her.”

  Beth wanted to slap the creep, but she shot him a venomous look instead as she desperately worked to free the girl.

  The teenager’s eyes rolled back in her head, and then her body went limp. Beth felt for a pulse. Low and thready but she had one. She punched 911 and asked for an ambulance. “Hurry. We have a teenage girl, unconscious.”

  “What did you do to her?” Ian barked.

  The reverend exchanged questioning looks with the couple. “I was simply performing an exorcism.”

  “An exorcism?” Beth said shrilly. “This girl is dehydrated. Did you drug her?”

  “Everything I did was in the name of the Lord,” Benton said. “She was possessed by the devil. I was helping rid her of the demons so we could save her soul.”

  “We would never let him hurt her,” the girl’s mother cried.

  “He was hurting her,” Ian snarled. “I’m charging all of you with child endangerment and abuse.”

  A siren wailed, and Beth rushed up the steps to meet the ambulance. Benton’s wife was huddled by the door, as if she had no idea what to do.

  Beth bypassed her, greeted the paramedics, and showed them where to go.

  A mixture of sympathy and anger warred inside Beth, but she tempered her tone. “You knew what he was doing and stood by and did nothing?”

  The woman dropped her head forward, her body trembling. “He was the master, the prophet,” she said in a shaky voice. “It’s my job as his wife to obey.”

  Beth fought rage at the man who’d browbeaten her into thinking like that, into not allowing her to be her own person. “I know you’re frightened, but it’s also your job as a human to protect children. Yet by doing nothing, you endangered that young girl’s life.”

  The woman gave a humble nod but didn’t look up. Mrs. Benton exhibited classic signs of spousal abuse. Even if it wasn’t physical, Benton had obviously brainwashed her into thinking she was subservient to him.

  No telling what he might have done to her if she’d called the police.

  “One question,” Beth said quietly. “The Boneyard Killer has murdered over a dozen girls. Is your husband the man we’re looking for?”

  Finally Mrs. Benton lifted her head. An icy chill swept over Beth at the desolate expression in her eyes. “I don’t know,” she said in a low voice. “I honestly don’t
know.”

  Reverend Jim Benton staunchly denied taking Vanessa. “Yes, I spoke with her and her grandmother at the revival. Vanessa was depressed over her friend’s death, and I suggested counseling.”

  Ian paced the small interrogation room in the back of the jail, determined to get to the truth. Beth watched, her demeanor calm, although he sensed she was seething with rage at the man.

  “Just as you were counseling that girl in your basement?” Ian asked.

  “I was doing God’s will, saving these young girls’ souls so they could have a future devoted to helping others and fighting sin. I didn’t feel Vanessa was possessed, just grieving.”

  He’d already spoken with the girl’s parents and they’d backed him up. Benton’s wife refused to talk further.

  Ian claimed the chair across from the reverend, his hands planted firmly, his face inches from the preacher’s. “Listen to me, if you stashed Vanessa someplace and planned to go back to her, tell me now. Saving her life could go a long way toward lessening your sentence.”

  Although with multiple murders on the table, he was looking at death row.

  “I’m a man of the cloth. I have told you the truth.” Contempt flared in Benton’s eyes. “Badgering me won’t change my answer.”

  “Because you’re a bully,” Beth said with derision. “You bully the women in the church and teach the men to do the same.”

  “God made men to be the leaders,” Reverend Benton said with a feral gleam in his eyes. “It is His will.” He folded his hands in prayer fashion. “But I will pray for Vanessa and her grandmother. I’ll also pray that you find the person responsible for these heinous murders.”

  Ian barely resisted punching the man as Benton bowed his head and launched into a prayer.

  Dammit, they were getting nowhere.

  Frustrated, he locked the man in a cell, and he and Beth drove back to the church neighborhood.

  They spent half the afternoon questioning neighbors and church members.

  When he reached his mother’s house, he paused, his nerves on edge. He hadn’t seen her in so long that emotions crowded his throat.