by Rita Herron
“Was your daddy mean to you?” she asked. “Are you one of those poor little boys who could never live up to Daddy’s expectations? Did he beat you or lock you in the closet or starve you like those crooks do to turn dogs into fighters?”
Gripping her chin with one hand, Burton squeezed so hard that she thought her jaw might crack.
“My daddy was a real man. And no, he didn’t beat me. But he made sure my mama knew her place.”
“So she was helpless,” Ellie said. “And you watched.”
Burton chuckled. “He had to teach me to be a man. That’s what fathers do. Now you’re going to be laid on the daffodils, because unlike Sunday’s child, who is bonny and gay, you’re ugly and cold. You and your stubborn pride. You’d let your own mother die before you’d forgive her.”
Hurt swelled inside her, but an image of Vera lying helpless in bed, hooked to machines that were keeping her alive, taunted her.
“Good fathers don’t beat their wives or children. They’re loving and kind and lead by example,” she said, pushing aside the thought.
“Like your daddy?”
Ellie pressed her lips together to keep from spitting at him. “What would your mother say about you now? Would she be proud of the man you’ve become?”
“My mother was nothing but a bitch. She left me with him,” he snapped. “Walked out on us one day––her own husband and son. And when my father went after her, punishing her like she deserved, she killed him. Just like Cathy walked out on me and killed my little girl. Just like you killed my baby girl. And you expect me to like women? You all deserve to die.”
A tree branch splintered, crashing in their path. Dodging it, he dragged her toward an old well.
“The well is underground, the devil’s underbelly,” he murmured. “It’s the closest thing to Satan and the furthest place from heaven. That’s where you’ll spend eternity. Unfortunately for you, no one will ever find your body out here.”
Fear coursed through her. He was right.
With his thumb under her chin, he tilted her head up. “Maybe I won’t cut your throat after all. Maybe I’ll just put you down there and let you rot.”
Keeping a firm grip on the chain, he thrust her toward the edge of the well. Then he opened his duffel bag. A bag of daffodils, the petals browning, sat inside, along with a vine of bramble.
“Why the daffodils?” Ellie asked.
Pure evil raged in his eyes. “Because they’re the flower of the underworld and that’s where you and Cathy belong.”
The sharp blade of a knife glinted in the darkness.
It was now or never.
Mustering all her strength, Ellie gripped the collar with one hand, diving for the knife. He swung it toward her and the blade sliced at her arm, pain rippling through her, but she used both hands and every ounce of her courage to grab the knife handle. They fought, the chain tightening, and he punched her in the ribs. With all her force, she lifted her leg and kicked him in the groin.
Their hands were still twined together around the knife as they struggled to take control, and they rolled across the ground. Releasing one hand from the knife, Ellie jabbed him in the eyes. He hollered in pain and momentarily loosened his grip, long enough for her to snatch the blade handle.
He grabbed at her, but she clenched the weapon and brought it down. The blade connected with his cheek and sent blood spurting. The next jab went to his chest. As he staggered to the side, she pushed him down, pressed the knife to his neck and tried to wrangle the keys to the chain from his belt.
Somehow, he managed to flip her over. Suddenly on top of her, he pulled Ellie’s own gun from his waistband.
Summoning every ounce of force she possessed, she bucked him off and the gun slid across the wet ground. She crawled toward it. He snagged her foot but she grabbed the gun, rolled over and fired.
One Hundred Forty-Two
North Georgia
Derrick must have lost consciousness. When he came around, confusion muddled his brain and the wind rocked the car back and forth.
But panic quickly set in. He had to get out, get to Ellie.
He blinked through the fog and pushed at the airbag. Reaching inside his pocket, he retrieved his pocketknife and cut it away, then shoved at the door. Dammit, it was stuck. Fumbling for the window lock, he realized it was jammed, so he pulled his gun from the holster and used the butt of it to break the glass. Then he hammered the shards of glass away. Freeing himself from the seatbelt, he crawled through the window.
Pain ricocheted through his chest as he dropped to the ground. He probably had a broken rib and he tasted blood. But he had no time to dwell on it.
The clouds and ground seem to be meeting in the sky as a dizzy spell overcame him. Pushing to his hands and knees, he took deep breaths to stem the nausea and dizziness.
You have to find Ellie.
Clenching his phone, he called Ellie’s boss. Had to tell them he needed help. That someone had to go to the farm.
Captain Hale’s voicemail picked up. Dammit. He couldn’t wait.
Fear for Ellie drove him to push aside the pain in his ribs and take off on foot down the road. One foot in front of the other. Another and another.
He struggled for a breath. Every step cost him.
Suddenly the clouds unleashed themselves, rain pummeling him. His boots slipped on the wet asphalt, costing him precious time.
Another painful breath, another footstep, then he froze, heart hammering. He’d reached the turning for the farm, but smoke curled into the night sky, a bright orange blazed against the gray.
Was Ellie in there?
No… fire wasn’t the Weekday Killer’s MO. Although if the farmhouse was his holding spot for hostages, he might have set it to destroy evidence.
Picking up his pace as much as the pain would allow him, Derrick slogged through the wet grass and mud, taking the most direct route to the blaze. Lightning zigzagged, the storm gaining intensity, although the wind was dulling slightly as it moved toward the east.
Although it seemed like hours, it only took minutes for him to reach the abandoned house, which was now well ablaze.
He was desperate to see if Ellie was inside, but the windows exploded. He staggered back at the intensity of the heat.
Emotions choked him as he screamed Ellie’s name.
One Hundred Forty-Three
Ellie crawled over to Burton, checking his pulse. The first bullet had pierced his stomach. The second his thigh. He was covered in blood.
And he wasn’t moving.
She had to call an ambulance. But first, Shondra.
Pushing up from the ground, she struggled to steady herself, fighting against the wind. Weak from the beating, her ankle throbbed as she ran, and her chest ached. She tasted blood but swiped at her lip with the back of her hand, heading back towards the house. Flames were starting to ripple along the exterior and smoke curled into the sky.
Breath panting out, she saw sparks shooting from the front door, so she ran to the rear entrance. The weathered wood splintered as she kicked the door in. Smoke clogged the air, and flames were crawling along the door edge.
Hesitating to get her bearings, she searched for the door to the basement. The hallway. It was partially ablaze, but she dodged the burning embers and opened the door. Heat scalded her, and she was pitched into the dark.
Her breath caught. Her head swam. She clutched the wall to steady herself, then raked her hands across it in search of a light switch. She almost cried with joy when she found one and flicked it on.
Her body throbbed as she rushed down the steps, and nausea flooded her as she passed the first room with the cage where he’d held her. Upstairs, she heard wood splintering and the fire hissing as it spread.
Racing to where Shondra was trapped, she dropped to her knees, opened the cage door and dragged her friend out.
An explosion upstairs made her rush into motion. She yanked at Shondra’s arms and pulled her through the room toward
the steps. But the fire had spread to the doorway and she didn’t think she could carry her up the steps.
Mind racing, she ran back through the basement and, to her relief, found a crawl space that would lead to the outside.
Ellie struggled against her fear of the tight space, but it was the only way out. Adrenaline firing her up, she pulled Shondra’s limp body into the narrow tunnel.
Panic nearly overpowered her and she had to close her eyes to regain control. She didn’t have time to break down.
She managed to slide herself to the doorway. She pushed and shoved at it, but it seemed stuck. A dizzy spell overcame her, and she lifted her head to the ceiling of the tiny space for air.
Ellie gave herself to the count of three before twisting around and kicking at the wooden cover with all her might.
One Hundred Forty-Four
Terror for Ellie forced Derrick into motion. The front of the house was completely ablaze. He had to go around back.
Two of the windows exploded on the side as he ran past. Wood crackled as the roof collapsed. The smoke stung his eyes. “Ellie!” he called.
Another sound broke through the roar of fire and the collapsing house.
Senses alert, he blinked through the smoke. A few feet away from the house he noticed a wooden board covering a crawl space. A fallen tree had partially blocked it.
Pulse hammering, and rain thrashing him, he rushed toward it, and heard the sound again.
Dropping to his knees, he shouted Ellie’s name. “Ellie? Ellie?”
“Help!” a muffled cry echoed through the wooden barrier. Fear fueled his strength, and he pushed through the pain, tugging and yanking until he dragged the tree away from the doorway.
Ignoring the pain in his ribs, he wrenched the hatch open. The opening was quickly filling with smoke.
“Ellie!” Leaning over the edge, he made out Ellie’s figure a few feet below.
“Shondra’s in here.” A coughing fit seized her. They had to hurry. “I have to get her body out.”
Precious seconds passed as the blaze reached toward the sky, black smoke pouring from the crawl space. He heard Ellie grunting as she pushed Shondra toward the opening.
Grabbing Shondra’s shoulders, Derrick pulled her out. He settled her on the ground, then returned to help Ellie. Her hands were already gripping the opening, and he dragged her the rest of the way out.
She rushed to her friend, gasping for air, eyes blurring with tears as she lay down beside her.
Ellie laid her head against Shondra for a moment, her tears dampening her friend. Suddenly she raised her head, a wild look in her eyes. “She’s alive, Derrick!”
“What?”
Ellie looked up at him imploringly. “She’s breathing. Let’s get her away from here.”
Scooping Shondra up, Derrick carried her across the yard away from the burning house, then laid her on the ground.
Ellie wiped soot from her battered face then pressed her hands on her friend’s chest, starting CPR. “She needs an ambulance.”
“So do you.”
“I’m fine, just make the call.”
Derrick punched 911 and gave the address, before turning to Ellie. “Where’s Burton?”
“In the woods near the old well,” she said. “I shot him.”
But Derrick’s relief was short-lived, as suddenly a gunshot echoed from the direction of the barn, loud and jarring. “Stay down and take cover,” he ordered Ellie.
She lowered her head, but continued CPR while Derrick gripped his gun and turned in the direction of the barn. The flames that lit the sky flickered off the figure as he darted behind a bush. Trees were down everywhere. The woods looked like a landmine had exploded.
Derrick braced his gun and fired. The bullet pinged off the barn, then Burton fired another round toward him, creeping from one bush to the other as he staggered closer.
“It’s over, Burton,” Derrick yelled.
“I’m not going to jail,” the man shouted desperately as he fired again.
In the distance a siren wailed, and voices reverberated from the woods. Burton pivoted, firing at Captain Hale and Cord McClain as they approached.
Then Burton raised his gun and fired at Ellie. She dropped her head onto Shondra, and Derrick, holding his breath, shot at the man’s head.
The bullet hit him square between the eyes, blood erupting everywhere, before he collapsed onto the ground.
One Hundred Forty-Five
Just as she saw Cord emerge from the thicket of trees, Ellie watched Burton drop dead with a mixture of relief and anger. Death was too good for him. But death by cop proved he really was a coward. He’d taken the easy way out.
Limping over to Ellie and Shondra, Derrick’s jaw clenched as he looked them over. Then his eyes settled on the damn collar around her neck and Shondra’s.
“God, Ellie.”
Humiliation flooded her. But at least Shondra was breathing. That changed everything. “Go get the damn keys and get these things off us.”
Derrick looked almost as bad as she did. But they’d gotten their man.
He ran back to Burton then returned, keys in hand.
“Shondra first,” Ellie said. It was tearing her up seeing her friend so battered and bruised.
Unlocking the collar, Derrick eased it from Shondra’s neck, then Ellie held her breath while he removed hers.
“Damn asshole,” Derrick muttered as he threw the collars back at Burton’s dead body.
Finally, Shondra stirred, trying to open her eyes just as the ambulance arrived.
“You’re going to the hospital now,” Ellie told her. “I’ll be right there with you.”
For once, she wanted to leave the crime scene to someone else. Her friend was all that mattered, and she needed to check on her mother, Burton’s words still haunting her.
Cord had disappeared into the barn, but he re-emerged, striding toward them. His smoky eyes were troubled, and he was also holding a small pitbull mix. “I found him in the barn. Looks like he’s been abused.”
“He was training them to fight,” Ellie said. “We heard him barking.”
“I’ll call Animal Rescue,” Cord replied.
The paramedics jumped from the ambulance and Derrick waved them over to Shondra.
“Ellie?” Shondra said in a whisper.
“I’m here.”
“Go,” Derrick said. “We’ll take care of things here. You need to be examined.”
“Call Melissa and tell her we found her,” Ellie said.
Derrick nodded, while Ellie took Shondra’s hand and ran along beside the medics as they carried her friend to the ambulance.
One Hundred Forty-Six
Bluff County Hospital
A half hour later, Ellie tolerated her own exam while the doctors continued treating Shondra.
The nurse cleaned and bandaged her forehead, treated her other bruises and cuts, and did a chest X-ray. Her ribs were bruised, but not broken. But it hurt like a mother to breathe, her head ached, and her jaw felt as if she might never chew again.
Still, she had to see Shondra, so she convinced the nurse to let her into her room.
A young, pencil-thin blonde hovered by Shondra’s bed, stroking her face. “Shondra, honey, I’m so sorry, so sorry.”
Ellie remained at the door, not wanting to disturb the reunion, but watching as Shondra opened her eyes. “Melissa,” Shondra whispered. “You’re here.”
“I am,” Melissa whispered. “I’ve been so worried about you.”
Ellie felt dizzy for a moment, grabbing the doorway to steady herself. Something about Melissa’s voice sounded familiar. You talked to her on the phone when she called about Shondra, she reassured herself.
“I’m here now and it’s over,” Melissa cried. “He can’t hurt you anymore.”
As the dizziness passed, Ellie inched inside the room. Melissa turned to look at her, and a twinge of recognition struck Ellie. But no… it couldn’t be… She’d never met thi
s woman. Her golden blonde hair hung down her back, and her eyes were a deep violet.
“Kennedy?” Ellie murmured under her breath.
Tears filled Melissa’s crystal-blue eyes, and Shondra coughed, spluttering out the words, “No… Ellie, this is Melissa.”
Shock stabbed at Ellie and her mind raced. Maybe she had hit her head too hard. Yet unease nagged at her as she stepped forward, her gaze falling to the woman’s wrist, at the small cross-like scar.
“No, you’re the Kennedy Sledge I talked to,” Ellie said, grateful her voice didn’t crack. “You wore a short dark wig, and colored contacts, but I saw that scar.”
Melissa lifted her arm, rubbing at the tiny mark on the inside of her wrist, and shook her head in denial.
Shondra pushed at the bed to sit up, but she was too weak, collapsing against the pillows. Her face was so bruised, her eyes swollen, and she had stitches in her lip. She swung her gaze back and forth between the two women. “What are you talking about, Ellie?”
Ellie quickly explained about Kennedy Sledge’s escape from the killer, and about the impostor. “This woman pretended to be Kennedy Sledge to learn details of his victims for the Weekday Killer. And she sounded so convincing, as if she really was a therapist.”
Shondra gasped, confusion clouding her face.
“I didn’t want to do it,” Melissa cried, finally relenting. “And I do have a background in therapy. He targeted me because of it, then forced me to help him. He was going to kill me…”
“Where have you been all this time?” Ellie asked.
“Locked up,” Melissa whimpered. “At first in a cage in an old chicken house, then he moved me because he knew you were looking for him.”
Shondra choked on a sob, and Melissa clenched her hand. “Please, Shondra, I love you. I didn’t want to help him, you have to believe that I didn’t. When I left to go tell my parents about us, he took me. He beat me and tortured me and locked me in one of those cages just like he did to you.” Pivoting, she unbuttoned her blouse and lowered the fabric. “See, I have scars. He whipped me and starved me and… I… I didn’t want to die.”