by Rita Herron
With her phone battery still low, the hot shower came first. Stripping her soggy clothing, she stepped beneath the warm spray of water and scrubbed her skin raw, desperate to cleanse the sweat and dirt from her pores.
And the horrific images of that dead woman from her mind.
After soaping her hair, she rinsed it, then conditioned the hell out of it, before rinsing again. Stepping out of the shower, she pulled on a pair of sweats and after a quick towel dry of her hair, she walked to the kitchen, grabbed a frozen pizza from the freezer and stuck it in the oven.
While the pizza cooked, Ellie poured herself a chilled vodka, carrying it to her den, where she flipped on the gas logs. Already the dark shadows of death were stampeding around her, reminding her of the screams of dead children that she couldn’t shake from her head.
Now the screams of the murdered woman on the bed of daffodils were added to the haunting collection.
Fortifying herself with the drink, she grabbed her phone and called her boss. He sounded a little groggy when he answered. “I’m sorry if I woke you, Captain. But it’s important.”
“I thought you were on vacation,” he growled.
Ellie rolled her eyes. It was hardly a vacation. “It got cut short when I found a woman murdered today.”
“What?” He spewed a string of expletives. “How? Where?”
She explained about the dead woman and the MO. “It looks ritualistic, Captain. Like he might have done this before.”
“Aww, geesh. The dust hasn’t settled from the Ghost case yet.”
“Tell me about it,” Ellie said sardonically.
“Are you ready to take this on, or do you want me to hand it over to the sheriff?”
Hell, no she didn’t. “I can handle it.” Besides, something about the woman had spoken to her. Those terrified eyes, as if she hadn’t known such horror existed. “I’m going to run a search for cases with similar MOs,” she carried on. “Hopefully, Dr. Whitefeather will have her autopsy complete tomorrow and we can get an ID. Then I can notify and question the family.”
“I’ll call Bryce and inform him,” Captain Hale said. “Meanwhile, get some rest and let me know what else you need.”
Ellie thanked him, then hung up and checked her voicemail. There were two more messages from Angelica Gomez. Both the same, wanting to tell Ellie’s story.
But Ellie didn’t have the energy to deal with the journalist now. She’d been crucified enough already.
The next message was from her father: “Hey, honey. I know you’re still upset, but your mom is so torn up, and that reporter is hounding her. Please don’t tell the press about the adoption yet. I don’t think your mother is ready for all that to come out.”
Ellie deleted the message. Of course Vera wasn’t ready. Her fall from society had hit her hard.
There were two more voicemails from her counselor asking if she wanted to reschedule along with a reminder about the group therapy session.
She deleted them, then discovered a text from an unsaved number. The hate mail she’d received about the Ghost case sprung to mind, messages that left her sleepless, searching her house every time she entered and leaving the lights on all night long.
Taking a deep breath, she opened the message, expecting more hate. But it was even more chilling.
Monday’s child is fair of face. Did you find her, Detective Reeves?
Thirteen
Somewhere on the AT
The screams of the other woman reverberated over and over in her head as he tied her arms and legs spread-eagle inside the cage.
The beating last night had been bad. But whatever he had in store for her now was going to be worse.
“It’s your fault she had to die, Cathy,” he spat. “Your fault I have to do this.”
Terror washed over her as he tied the restraints tighter. The screech of the door swinging back and forth at the top of the stairs bounced off the cold dank walls, the crack of the whip against the floor echoing around the basement.
Tears pooled in her eyes as she braced herself for the sharp sting of leather cutting into bare skin, but instead he knelt beside her. All she could see were dark eyes boring through the holes of his mask, but his voice sounded familiar, and he smelled of wood, sweat and dirt, as if he’d been outdoors.
Grunting, he bent beside her, and she saw something rubbery between his teeth. Some kind of tubing… a tourniquet.
He peeled it from his mouth and with gloved hands wrapped the tube around her upper arm, tying it so tightly that she sucked in a sharp breath. A second later, silver glinted in the dark and she saw the needle.
Terrified of what he was going to inject her with, she gritted her teeth as he jabbed the needle into her arm. But instead of the slow burn of drugs seeping into her, she realized he was drawing blood.
Helpless to do anything but lie at his mercy, she searched her memory for where she’d heard his voice before.
But as he drew vial after vial of blood, she grew weaker and weaker…
Fourteen
Tuesday
Crooked Creek
Ellie rubbed her bleary eyes. She’d spent half the night searching every database she had access to for crimes even remotely similar to the MO of the murdered woman she’d found at Reflection Pond.
Although there were a few scattered cases in other states involving necrophilia, nothing fit with the way the killer had posed his victim.
She was aching from exhaustion, yet wired from wondering why the killer had contacted her personally, as she met Heath and her captain at the station first thing.
The sheriff stormed in within minutes of her arrival. “Detective Reeves,” Bryce said, his voice loud, irritated, “why didn’t you call me yesterday about that body?”
Ellie tensed and poured herself a cup of coffee, determined to stay calm. Bryce liked goading her and she refused to rise to it. “Because I could handle it alone. I figured you were busy anyway.” Probably busy drinking on the job. “Besides, I knew the captain would get in touch with you.”
Bryce glared at her, then followed her into her office, where Captain Hale and Deputy Landrum were waiting. She explained about the message from the killer. “We’ll try to trace the call,” Ellie said. “But this guy is smart. Most likely he used a burner phone.” She paused. “I need to meet Dr. Whitefeather soon.”
Deputy Landrum looked up from his laptop. “I think I have an ID on the victim. I ran her face through facial recognition software and got a hit.”
That was fast. She’d thought they’d have to wait on DNA or prints. “Who is she?”
Heath angled his laptop for her to see. “Her name is Courtney Wooten. She’s twenty-nine, developed her own makeup line and is trending on YouTube and Twitter. She’s also apparently working on a line of party dresses.”
No wonder her face had popped up so quickly.
“Is she local?”
“Home address is Atlanta, but she has one sister, Renee, who lives a few miles outside Crooked Creek. Parents were killed in a car crash when she was ten, so she and her sister went to live with the grandmother. Grandma died last year.”
“We need to talk to Renee.”
“I’ll send you her contact information,” Heath said. “I’m studying the vic’s social media for love interests, but so far, she’s all over the map in her dating.”
Bryce looked down at the photos of Courtney and whistled. “A pretty girl, talented. I guess she has lots of interest.”
Heath nodded, a frown creasing his eyes. “I’ve just started digging into her personal life and business. There could be something there.”
Maybe it was something to do with the makeup line, Ellie thought. All beauty and fashion, yet look at how the killer had posed her.
A noise in the bullpen made them all look up, and Angelica Gomez appeared, her cameraman in tow. Ellie clenched her hands by her sides. She had been running from the press for weeks now. She’d gone as far as hiding in the woods to escape it all.
But there was no escape. And she refused to tuck her tail and run now when Courtney Wooten needed her. The reporter was tenacious but she had been helpful in the last case––Ellie just had to manage her.
“I’d talk to her, but since you obviously left me out of the loop yesterday, I guess you’ll have to,” Bryce said to Ellie.
“No problem. I’ve got it.” The whir of phones and computers buzzed in the room as Ellie crossed to the reporter. Two new deputies had been brought in and were in training to assist on routine calls.
“Detective Reeves,” Angelica said. “Do you have a minute?”
“If this is personal, then no,” Ellie replied, arching a brow.
Angelica’s dark eyes narrowed. “It’s about the body you found yesterday.”
She was about to ask how Angelica knew, but the reporter could have spoken to the sheriff. Many journalists had police scanners and picked up information that way. Besides, it didn’t really matter. The public would find out. It was best to get ahead of it.
Angelica pushed her microphone towards Ellie. “This is Angelica Gomez, WRIX Channel Five news coming to you live with Detective Ellie Reeves.” Angelica smiled for the camera. “Many of you remember her as the detective who broke the Ghost case a few weeks ago. But just yesterday, in Bluff County, another murder has occurred. This time the body of a young female.” She gestured to Ellie. “Detective?”
Ellie hated the limelight, but she forced herself to concentrate on the job. “Yes, I’m sorry to say that a woman’s body was found on the Appalachian Trail late yesterday. I cannot divulge details of the case until family has been notified, but if you have any information regarding a crime committed in the area, please call the local police department.”
Her phone buzzed on her hip. “I will make a statement once we learn more,” she said, pushing the mic aside and checking the message.
Laney was almost finished with the autopsy. She had to go.
Fifteen
Bluff County Medical Examiner’s Office
Ellie would never get used to the morgue. Formaldehyde blended with cleaning chemicals, made more potent by the scent of decomp clogging the air in the sterile room.
Laney’s office, the autopsy room and refrigerators were housed on the same floor.
The walls had been freshly painted, and the stainless-steel table and its instruments shone beneath the bright light.
Lifting her face shield as Ellie approached, Laney wore a scowl.
“I have a likely ID on her,” Ellie said as she moved up beside the woman’s body. Her blue skin accentuated bruises on her torso that Ellie hadn’t seen when the woman was clothed. Now she lay draped in a sheet, the Y incision Laney had made snaking down her chest.
“Is she from the area?” Laney asked.
“Atlanta,” Ellie said. “Heath is digging into her. But her sister lives not too far from town.”
Laney gently brushed her hand over the woman’s pale blonde hair. “She was pretty,” she said, a sad note to her voice. “And so young.”
“Twenty-nine,” Ellie replied, explaining about the YouTube makeup videos. “Now, what can you tell me?”
Laney sighed. “Just as I initially thought, she died of exsanguination due to her throat being slashed.” She pointed to the laceration on the woman’s throat. “He went deep, but it appears to be one clean cut, not multiple stab wounds. Looks like a hunting knife of some kind.”
“Fast and efficient, and hunting knives are a dime a dozen in these parts,” Ellie murmured. She even had one. “And the bramble around her neck. That has to mean something.”
“That was postmortem, so he didn’t strangle her with it.” Laney angled the woman’s head to the side. “There’s also a deeper line of bruising around her throat, as if he put something around her neck.”
Ellie leaned closer to examine it. “It’s wide, almost like a band.”
“Possible asphyxiation sex gone bad,” Laney suggested. “Although there were no signs of sexual activity or abuse. But he did beat her.” As Laney lowered the sheet, Ellie saw black and purple bruises on the victim’s arms and legs. Then she tilted her sideways to reveal deep slash marks.
A sick feeling washed over Ellie. “He whipped her.”
Her thoughts took a twisted turn as she struggled to understand the evidence. “That bruising… It could have been a choker of some kind. Like one used in S and M, or a dog collar.”
Laney pressed the back of her hand over her forehead and exhaled. “You’d think we’d become immune to this stuff,” she said. “But the depravity still gets to me.”
Ellie simply nodded agreement. When the cruelty of what one human could inflict on another stopped bothering them, it would be time to quit. “Time of death?”
“Monday, sometime between four p.m. and six p.m.” Laney lifted a small scrap of paper. “This was in her mouth.”
Ellie clenched her teeth and read the message which appeared to have been written on an old typewriter. Monday’s child is fair of face.
“She hadn’t been dead long when I found her.”
Yet she’d missed him, and the killer could have been close by, hiding in the woods, watching…
Sixteen
Rocky Forge, Georgia
Mid-morning sunshine slanted golden rays across the mountains as Ellie parked at Renee Wooten’s clapboard house. Courtney’s sister lived in a small, older neighborhood called Rocky Forge where the houses had been built in the fifties and looked as if they were stacked on the rising hills like stair steps.
According to Heath’s last text, Renee cleaned rooms at a local motel, but today was her day off. The photograph he sent made it hard to believe Courtney and Renee were sisters. Where Courtney was five-ten, thin, blonde and model-pretty, Renee was barely five feet, slightly chubby, and had muddy brown hair.
A green Chevy sat in the drive, and the front door was open as if to let fresh air into the house. A tabby cat lay curled on a tattered straight chair by the door.
Ellie’s stomach knotted as she got out of the vehicle. Notifying family of a loved one’s death was never easy or pleasant, but it had to be done.
Gravel crunched beneath her feet as she walked to the stoop and climbed the two steps, knocking on the screen door, and tapping her foot as she waited. After a few minutes, she knocked again and called out Renee’s name. But there was nothing. Maybe she wasn’t home after all.
A noise from the rear caught her attention, and Ellie went down the steps, walking around the side of the house. A clothesline was strung between two trees, and she spotted a young brunette hanging sheets on the line, her ponytail swinging as she worked.
A stiff breeze caught the material and sent it flapping, the woman struggling to untangle it.
Ellie called her name and Renee turned with a surprised look. “Yes. Who are you?”
“Detective Ellie Reeves,” Ellie said, gesturing to the shield attached to her belt. “Crooked Creek Police Department.”
The woman’s face suddenly paled. “Oh, my word. You’re that detective who solved the Ghost case?”
Ellie nodded. “Yes, I am. But I’m not here about that.” She hesitated, waiting to see if Renee made the connection from the morning news. A second later, the woman swayed slightly, indicating she had.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Renee. But yesterday we found a body we believe to be your sister in the woods not far from here.” Ellie showed Renee a picture of the woman’s face. “This is your sister Courtney, correct?”
“Yes.” Dropping the fitted sheet she’d been hanging, Renee staggered over to a metal chair beside a fire pit made from an old metal tire rim.
Ellie hurried to her, bending down beside her. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Renee.”
Tears pooled in the woman’s brown eyes, her hand trembling as she wiped at them. “Wh-what happened?” she asked in a whisper.
Ellie didn’t intend to share the details. “I’m afraid she was murdered. At the moment, her body
is at the morgue, but I can let you know when she’s ready to be released so you can make arrangements.”
Renee nodded, her lip quivering.
“Is there anyone I can call for you?” Ellie asked.
The woman gave her a blank look, denial and shock glazing her eyes. “You said she was found near here, not in Atlanta.”
Ellie nodded. “Was she coming to see you?”
Surprise flashed in Renee’s eyes. “If she was, I didn’t know anything about it.”
“I understand you need time,” Ellie said softly. “But I have to ask you some questions…”
Nodding again, Renee blinked as if to clear her mind. “What can I do?”
“Tell me about Courtney,” Ellie said. “Were you two close?”
Renee shrugged. “Not really. Courtney was gorgeous and cared more about her looks and her business than her own family.”
Ellie’s heart clenched. “I’m sure she cared about you,” she said.
Renee lifted her head, and Ellie noticed the woman’s skin was pockmarked, as if she’d suffered badly with acne. “She was embarrassed by me.”
“That must have hurt.” Ellie knew all about family dysfunction. After wanting a sibling all her life, she finally had one. One who’d wanted her dead.
“I accepted how she was a long time ago,” Renee said with a shrug.
Ellie hesitated at the resignation in the woman’s voice. An image of the way Courtney had been dressed––in a plain dress and shoes, even plain underwear––taunted Ellie. The killer had chosen those garments for a reason.
“Did Courtney have a boyfriend or girlfriend? Anyone special in her life?” Ellie asked.
“Not that I know of.” Renee shrugged again. “She changed guys like she changed her shoes, always looking for a new style or prettier one.”
“How about enemies? Maybe a jilted lover?”