Wildflower Graves: A totally gripping mystery thriller (Detective Ellie Reeves Book 2)

by Rita Herron

  Confusion rippled through him.

  Bryce and Ellie definitely had some kind of tension between them, some kind of past. But that wasn’t enough to drive him to murder—surely Ellie knew that?

  Anxious and wanting to know more before he saw Waters, he stepped from the vehicle and called her number. The phone rang four times before going to voicemail. Trying three more times, he got the same result. “Call me as soon as you get this,” he said through gritted teeth.

  Praying Ellie was all right, he phoned Bennett. “Find out everything you can on Sheriff Bryce Waters. For some reason, Detective Reeves has suspicions about him. Any word from the lab on DNA under Dr. Sledge’s nails?”

  “No hits yet. But we’ll keep running it.”

  Derrick hesitated, before carrying on. “Run it against the sheriff.”

  “You think Waters is the perp too?”

  “I don’t know. Just run it, okay.”

  “On it.”

  “And see what you can dig up on Felix Finton, Roy Finton’s father. Roy claims McCord killed his old man. But there’s history between the two of them so who knows if he’s telling the truth or not? I’ll push him for more after he’s been in lockup for a while.”

  Bennett whistled. “A lot going on in that town.”

  “Tell me about it.” And Ellie Reeves seemed to be at the center of it all.

  One Hundred Twenty-Five

  Somewhere on the AT

  Ellie blinked furiously, struggling to see where she was. Panicked, she tried to move and failed. Her body was a dead weight. The sharp sting in her neck… he’d drugged her.

  She’d lost time. Had been unconscious for a while. Had no idea if it was still night or morning.

  A pungent odor inundated her, but she couldn’t define the source. Fighting the fear threatening to consume her, she inhaled several deep breaths, forcing herself to focus.

  At least she was still alive. But for how long? She opened her mouth to call out for her friend, but her voice died in her throat. How long would it take for the drug to wear off? She couldn’t fight him if she couldn’t move.

  Closing her eyes, the message echoed in her head.

  I told you that you’d pay for what you did to me.

  She’d driven home, planned to confront Bryce.

  But some bastard had jumped her from behind. His hands had been around her throat, his deep voice in her ear… the sting of the needle… then the world faded to black.

  She hadn’t seen his face and his voice… it was so low that she couldn’t tell who it was. “Shondra,” she tried again, but the sound was barely a croak.

  One Hundred Twenty-Six

  Stony Gap

  “Where’s Sheriff Waters?” Derrick asked the deputy on duty as he escorted an angry Finton into the sheriff’s office.

  “Probably at Haints grabbing a burger,” the deputy said.

  Wasn’t he always? Derrick thought wryly.

  He shoved Finton into an interrogation room, the mortician roaring for a lawyer.

  “You’re going to need one,” Derrick said. “But think about it, Finton. We can work on a deal if you’ll tell us where Deputy Eastwood is.”

  Tearing his gaze away from Derrick, Finton looked down at his clenched hands. “I told you I didn’t do anything to her. Did McClain put you up to this?”

  “We have enough to charge you and shut down your business for good,” Derrick replied, ignoring the question. “If you want the chance to see the outside world again, you’d better start talking.”

  “I’m not going to confess to something I didn’t do,” Finton snarled. “Maybe McClain is the one killing women. He always had a weird side.”

  The animosity between the two men was obvious. Frankly, Derrick liked both of them for the crime, but he needed proof.

  “Maybe the two of you did it together,” Derrick suggested. “You’re trying to cast suspicion on each other to confuse the case.” But where did Waters fit into the picture?

  “There’s no way I’d help that asshole do anything. I’d like to see him hang,” Finton replied, leaning back in the chair and barking a sarcastic laugh.

  Derrick pinned him with a cool stare. “Then perhaps you framed him.”

  “I wish I’d thought of that.” Finton’s eyes flickered with a challenge. “But I didn’t. Now, lawyer.”

  Pushing away his chair, Derrick stood. Moving around the table, he yanked Finton up by the arm. “All right then. Maybe some time in a cell will change your mind.”

  “My phone call,” Finton shouted. “I want my phone call!”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Derrick said. “Right now, I have to try and save a woman’s life.”

  One Hundred Twenty-Seven

  Bluff County Hospital

  Kennedy Sledge’s body throbbed, but she had to keep running.

  Escape him.

  The women’s scream pierced her ears. Night after night she’d heard them cry. Heard him beating them. Dragging them from the cages and forcing them to beg.

  He’d kept her for days. He said he might need her later, but he’d never said why.

  Just like he’d kept Shondra. He’d beat her more than the others, saying he would break her, but the deputy was tough, refusing to beg.

  The nameless women’s eyes had pleaded with Kennedy to help her. The ones he called Cathy. He called them all Cathy—Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday… She was supposed to be Friday’s child. She could hear him chanting, “Friday’s child is loving and giving…”

  Tears flooded her face. She wanted to help them. That was what she did. But she’d been chained herself, deprived of light and food and water for days on end, so she was too weak to fight back. He’d made her listen to the other women’s endless cries. To his sick voice murmuring that childhood rhyme.

  Then he’d carried her into the woods and she’d known she would be next.

  Tears trickled down her cheeks. She blinked, moaning as guilt seized her for leaving the others behind. She should have run back, tried to save Shondra…

  But it was too late now. He’d chased her until she’d come to a ridge overlooking the river, the water crashing below. Then she’d thrown herself over. Death was better than going back to that hellhole.

  She snapped her eyes open, her heart pounding. Where was she? Not in her bed. Not in the river.

  Her body ached, her limbs felt weak and she could barely breathe for the sharp pain in her chest. Machines beeped. An oxygen tube was threaded through her nose. A cart clanged somewhere. And voices…

  A hospital, she realized. She was in the hospital.

  The nightmare… it was real. She’d been running from the man who’d abducted her. She’d dived into the river to get away from him—preferring to die than to face him.

  Fear suffocated her, but she managed to claw at the bed and find the nurse’s button. She had to talk to the police. She had to tell them what she knew.

  One Hundred Twenty-Eight

  Haints Bar

  Leaving Finton in the cell and the deputy on duty to watch him, Derrick went to Haints to talk to the sheriff. Just as he parked, he got a message that Kennedy Sledge had regained consciousness. The sheriff’s car was in the lot.

  A killer was on the loose, and he was sitting around drinking whiskey?

  Fury made him clench his jaw as he strode into the crowded bar. Country music rocked the room while the scent of beer and fries permeated the air.

  Even with the warning they’d issued to women in the area, a few had come to the cop bar, as if a ruthless serial killer wasn’t out there.

  At the bar, Bryce was chowing down on a burger and flirting with a young brunette. Derrick tapped him on the back.

  “Sheriff, we need to talk.”

  Bryce looked annoyed.

  “Where’s Ellie?” Derrick demanded.

  At the mention of Ellie’s name, the woman seated next to him rose, carrying her drink to a table with two other women.

&
nbsp; “I asked you a question, Sheriff. Where’s Ellie?”

  “How should I know? She doesn’t exactly keep in touch or follow orders.”

  “I got a message from her after she found the latest victim. She said she was coming back to Stony Gap to confront you.”

  Bryce shoved his food away. “Confront me? Hell, I’m going to fire her ass for letting McClain out of jail against my orders.”

  “Don’t fucking lie to me, Waters,” said Derrick, gripping his arm. “If you did something to Ellie, then you’d better fess up.”

  “What does that mean? If I did something to Ellie?”

  Derrick hated to play all his cards, but every minute counted. “She left me a message saying she liked you for the crimes. If you’re the Weekday Killer, saving Ellie and the deputy will go toward leniency.”

  “Shit. You’re serious, aren’t you?” Bryce said, dropping his glass down so hard that beer sloshed over the sides.

  “Dead serious,” Derrick said. “The last thing she told me was that she was going to talk to you and now she’s not answering her phone.”

  Outrage darkened Bryce’s eyes. “That’s absurd. I’m going to call your superior and tell him––”

  “Tell him what? That Ellie suspected you for some reason? That you were drinking on the job while the rest of us were hunting for a serial killer? That you had a vendetta against the deputy and Ellie because you have an aversion to strong women?”

  “You’re way off base, Agent Fox. Way off.”

  “Then prove it.”

  “I don’t have to prove anything to you.”

  “The hell you don’t. Either come with me or I’m going to arrest you.”

  “You’ll be sorry you said that,” Bryce said.

  “Come with me now or I’ll handcuff you right here in front of everyone in this bar you like so much.”

  Bryce spit out another curse word, then tossed some cash on the bar and stood. He peeled Derrick’s fingers from around his arm and led the way back outside.

  “Give me your weapon,” Derrick ordered when they reached the car.

  “You’ll regret this,” Bryce snarled. But he lifted his service revolver, handing it over.

  After checking the safety, Derrick gestured for Bryce to get in his car.

  “Where are we going?” the sheriff snapped.

  “To the hospital. Kennedy Sledge woke up.”

  One Hundred Twenty-Nine

  Bluff County Hospital

  Derrick led the way into the hospital, a steaming Bryce by his side. On the way over, he’d asked the sheriff about the tension between him and Ellie, but Bryce had told him it was none of his business. Derrick had furtively recorded his voice to play to Kennedy Sledge, in case she could identify him.

  As his mind churned over everything, Derrick thought about Ellie.

  She’d damn well better be alive.

  The doctor met them at Kennedy Sledge’s room. Another young woman, who looked so much like Kennedy that she had to be her sister, sat beside the bed, stroking Kennedy’s hand.

  “How is she?” Derrick asked.

  “Physically she’s going to be fine,” replied the doctor. “But she’s suffered severe emotional trauma.”

  “Did she tell you what happened?”

  The doctor shook her head. “Just that she was abducted, and she asked me to call the police.” Derrick started forward, but the doctor touched his arm. “Be gentle, Agent Fox. Try not to upset her or push her. Let her talk in her own time.”

  Time was one thing they didn’t have.

  “The sheriff will stay here with you.” He gestured to the guard they’d stationed at her door. There was no way he was taking him in if there was a chance that he was the abductor. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  Bryce gave him a venomous look but leaned against the doorjamb as Derrick entered the room. At the sound of his footsteps, Kennedy opened her eyes, turning her head toward him.

  Not wanting to frighten her, he approached slowly, stopping a few inches from her bedside and showing her his credentials.

  “My name is Agent Derrick Fox. You’re Kennedy Sledge, right?”

  Light brown hair framed her oval face, and her pale, bruised features grew pinched. Then she gave a little nod.

  The woman beside her looked up at him with imploring eyes then introduced herself as Lara, Kennedy’s sister. “She’s been through a lot, Agent Fox.”

  “I know, and I truly am sorry. But the man who hurt her may be holding at least one other woman now.”

  “It’s okay,” Kennedy told her sister gently. “I need to do this. Why don’t you go get some coffee?”

  “Are you sure?” her sister asked, looking skeptical.

  “Yes.” Kennedy squeezed her sister’s hand. “I’ll be fine.”

  Lara fidgeted with her purse and stood, but Derrick read the silent warning in her eyes. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she said before disappearing out the door.

  “I’m sorry for what happened to you,” Derrick said, again. “Do you feel like talking?”

  She squeezed her eyes shut for a second, then opened them and took a breath. “No, but I need to. I know you’re looking for the man who abducted me.”

  Derrick nodded. “What can you tell me about him?”

  “He… was sick. He took other women and killed one each day,” she said in a raw whisper. “He kept repeating this rhyme about Monday’s child…”

  “We believe that after he took you, he hacked into your files and your group therapy forum, and then used another woman to pose as you. She took on new clients.”

  Kennedy gasped. “And since I’m a solo practice, no one realized someone took over my office.”

  “That’s how he chose his victims,” Derrick finished, hating the pain on her face. “He even changed the photograph of you and set up a fake profile for the impostor.”

  Everything looked professional enough to fool even Ellie.

  Her eyes widened in horror. “I can’t believe a woman helped him. Although…”

  “Although what?”

  “I knew there were other women there. I never saw them, but I heard them crying.”

  “Do you recall when he first abducted you? What day it was?”

  “What day is it today?”

  Derrick glanced at his watch. Twelve thirty a.m. “Technically Sunday.”

  She rubbed her hand over her eyes, and Derrick took in her jagged nails and bruised skin.

  “It was almost two weeks ago. As I was leaving my office, he attacked me at my car.”

  “Did you see this woman there?” Derrick asked, showing her a photograph of the deputy. “Her name is Deputy Shondra Eastwood.”

  “I didn’t know Shondra. But I heard him with her. She refused to beg and kept telling him she was a cop. He… punished her over and over again.” A sob escaped her. “I wanted to help them, but… I couldn’t… he kept me chained in a cage.”

  “Do you know who he is? Did you see his face?”

  She pinched the bridge of her nose. “He wore a ski mask all the time. And it was dark, so dark. I think we were held in a basement somewhere. There was no light, but there were steps. I… heard them creaking every time he came down.”

  “How about his voice? Do you think you’d recognize it if you heard him speak?” Derrick asked, glancing back at Bryce, who was hovering in the doorway.

  Biting down on her lower lip, she gave a quick nod.

  “Do you have any idea of the location where you were held?”

  “Somewhere in the mountains. All I remember was being in the trunk of his car and going around the winding roads. I’m sorry… I’m not being very helpful…”

  The woman had been through so much. Yet she’d survived. She was here. “You’re doing great.”

  Sniffing, she rubbed her finger over her throat where the wide band of bruising marred her skin. “He… put a dog collar around my neck…” she said, her voice trailing off.

  Derrick bi
t back a sound of revulsion. That fit with Dr. Whitefeather’s findings. “How about sounds? Did you hear a noise outside? A plane or train? Cars? Anything that might help us pinpoint the location?”

  She furrowed her brow. “I did hear a plane a couple of times. Like a small one. It sounded close by.”

  “Okay. I’ll have my partner start searching for remote areas near a small airport or where a private plane might be able to land.”

  “And… I think I heard a dog barking, maybe more than one,” she said, rubbing at her neck again.

  That also fit with the theory that the killer might have trained dogs to fight. “Did he say why he was holding you hostage or killing women?”

  Pain wrenched Kennedy’s face, then her cheeks reddened. “Just that he wanted me to beg. He wanted all the women on their hands and knees begging like… animals. And he called us all Cathy. He never said why but he hated her, and said we were all Cathys.”

  Disgust ate at Derrick, but that might be the lead they needed. “I want you to listen to this voice and tell me if it sounds familiar.”

  She nodded, clenching the bedsheet in a white-knuckled grip as he played the recording he’d taken of his conversation with the sheriff.

  At the sound of his own voice, Bryce burst into the room, his face a picture of fury. “What are you doing? You didn’t have my permission to tape me.”

  Stepping in front of Bryce to protect Kennedy, Derrick’s gaze met hers. “Was that the voice of the man who took you?”

  One Hundred Thirty

  Sunday

  Somewhere on the AT

  After what felt like forever, Ellie felt a tingling in her toes. She struggled to move her fingers, managing to bend her pinky slightly. Hopefully the drugs were starting to wear off.

  “Where are you, you coward?” she tried to yell, but her voice emerged as a hoarse whisper.