The Burning Girls: A completely gripping crime thriller packed with heart-pounding twists (Detective Ellie Reeves Book 3)

by Rita Herron

  “You’re way over my head. Can you do that?” Ellie asked.

  “The specialist will handle it.”

  Ellie’s stomach clenched again as the hollow eye sockets of the woman’s face stared at her.

  2

  Crooked Creek

  Bone-tired, Ellie wanted a hot shower and a chilled vodka. The stench of smoke, her own sweat, and burned flesh clung to her every pore. Laney had finally been able to transport the bones to the morgue, but the forensic specialist wouldn’t be in until tomorrow. Analysis of the soil and burned brush would also confirm if an accelerant had been used. The team had not found any sign that the victim had been camping. No gear, no food, no supplies. If there had been evidence of another party there, the fire had probably destroyed it. The only item of interest found by the arson investigator was a discarded lighter a few hundred feet from the woman’s body, which was also sent to the lab.

  Before she went home, Ellie wanted to check on Deputy Shondra Eastwood. Just six weeks ago, Ellie’s friend had been abducted by the Weekday Killer, a serial killer who’d targeted women in the area because of a vendetta against Ellie. Years back, when she was at the police academy, she’d reported him for sexual harassment. Her claims had started a wave of others and he’d been dismissed from the academy. Then his wife left him, and he’d lost her and his daughter in a tragic accident. An accident he blamed on Ellie. That rage had transferred to his victims.

  Shondra had barely escaped alive.

  Guilt for her friend’s torture kept Ellie awake at night. Ever since she was a child, she’d struggled to sleep, but now night was even more her enemy. Sometimes she didn’t sleep for days on end and could barely function. Other times she slept fitfully, her nightmares filled with the horrors of her past, the cases that haunted her.

  Work was her salvation. Having a new case to focus on, horrifying as it was, would stop her from spiraling.

  Parking her Jeep at Shondra’s apartment, Ellie killed the engine, then glanced at her own reflection in the mirror. God, she looked ragged. Her ash-blond hair was a mess, soot stained her cheeks and dark circles rimmed her blue eyes. Licking her fingers, she wiped away the dirt and redid her ponytail, but she couldn’t do anything about the permanent shadows under her eyes.

  Just as she felt helpless to erase Shondra’s. For a moment, she sat staring at the cinder-block building. Ever since the attack, Shondra had shut down and hadn’t wanted to see her.

  Who could blame her? The monster who’d abducted her had done so to get revenge on Ellie.

  Sucking in a breath to steady her nerves, she climbed out and walked up the sidewalk. The recent tornado had completely destroyed Shondra’s mobile home, so she was staying here instead. But the brutal weather had also wreaked havoc on this property. Although the concrete building was still standing, the sidewalk needed patching, the building painting, and Ellie smelled the acrid scent of pot as she made it to Shondra’s door. Hopefully this ramshackle place was just temporary and her friend could find a more suitable home soon. That’s if she didn’t leave altogether––Shondra had mentioned that she wasn’t sure she’d be staying in Bluff County.

  Ellie understood the need to run and start over. She’d felt that way a few weeks ago herself. But her ties to Crooked Creek ran deep, and she’d finally decided she couldn’t run far enough to escape her past. She had to stay and face it.

  A quick knock, then she called Shondra’s name. Seconds ticked by. She knocked again. “Shondra, please open up. I need to see you.” The image of the woman’s blackened bones taunted her. “Please, let me in,” Ellie said. “I’m worried about you.”

  Shuffling could finally be heard, and the door creaked open. Shondra’s face, pale and gaunt, appeared. The bruising and swelling from the beatings she’d taken were fading, but Ellie knew that the emotional scars were still raw. “Ellie, go home. It’s late and I’m tired.”

  “I know, but… I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  Shondra’s curly black hair was pulled back with a clip, her eyes almost as hollow as the sockets of the dead woman. “Go away.”

  “I’m not leaving without making sure you’re all right.”

  Tears blurred Shondra’s eyes, and she released a wary sigh, before opening the door and motioning for Ellie to come in. Except for a few boxes in the corner of the kitchen, the apartment was bare. She’d lost most of her belongings during the twister.

  And more of herself during the kidnapping.

  “I’m sorry,” Ellie said, her heart churning. “I know it was my fault Burton took you. I don’t know how else to say I’m sorry or how to make things right.”

  “You can’t make it right,” Shondra said, her voice low and defeated. “Nothing will ever be right again.”

  “Burton is dead,” Ellie said, with conviction. “That’s a start. He can’t hurt you anymore. And I’m sorry he came after you because of me.” She’d said it again. She’d say it a hundred times more if it helped.

  Shondra’s face crumpled. “I don’t blame you, Ellie,” she said, her voice cracking. “I’m a cop, supposed to catch a killer, not be a victim.”

  Ellie guided Shondra to the faded green couch, the only piece of furniture in the tiny, threadbare living room.

  “Listen to me, you’re a good cop,” Ellie said. “Burton was cunning, smart, devious. He used everyone in his path and would have found a way to get what he wanted.”

  “I tried to be so strong when he had me,” Shondra whispered, swiping at tears. “But since then, I… just fell apart.”

  “You are strong, Shondra, but it takes time to process trauma. You will get through this.”

  Shondra twirled the end of her hair between her fingers.

  “This is about Melissa, isn’t it?” Ellie said softly. It had turned out that Shondra’s ex-girlfriend had been involved in the Weekday Killer case, helping him lure his victims. “You love her and you feel betrayed that she helped Burton.”

  Emotions streaked Shondra’s face, and her chin quivered. “I do. But I realize she was victimized too. We all were.”

  “Maybe talking to her would help.”

  Shondra pushed to her feet, angry lines slashing her eyes. “You’ve seen her, haven’t you?”

  “I had to, for the case. And… for you.”

  “Go, Ellie. I’m done talking right now.”

  “Shondra, please—”

  “I asked you to go.”

  Tears burned Ellie’s eyes, but she blinked them back.

  “Think about it,” Ellie said as she turned and walked toward the door, but she was only met with her friend’s resounding silence.

  3

  Crooked Creek

  Ten minutes later, Ellie parked in front of her bungalow. The mountains rose behind it, steep and strong in their glory, the colors of summer flowers and greenery a reprieve from the long winter months.

  Having grown up in these parts, she’d hiked the AT—the Appalachian Trail—for as long as she could remember. But the mountains weren’t the safe place they used to be. A series of serial killer cases had left behind clouds of lingering fear, neighbors looking at one another with suspicion. Her father, Randall, had been disgraced since his retirement as sheriff, and Ellie was doing her best to prove herself to the small community. The negative press surrounding her and the revelation that Randall had withheld important information about a murder had taken its toll on all of them. She and her father had both received hate mail and the town had protested when the prosecutor dropped the charges against her father due to lack of evidence.

  She’d thought once the Weekday Killer was caught, the residents would settle down, but this blasted heatwave seemed to be making everyone restless. Now the Fourth of July was upon them, too, with tourists flocking to town.

  As Ellie entered her house, soft moonlight slanted its way through the blinds in the living room, the wood floor creaking beneath her boots as she crossed to the kitchen.

  Still shaken by the image o
f those charred bones, she flipped on every light in the house. She’d made great strides in conquering her fear of the dark and enclosed spaces but needed to manage triggers in times of stress.

  Body wound tight with tension, she poured herself a shot of Kettle One and inhaled the crisp citrus scent, swirling it around in her glass before she took a long slow sip. It wasn’t enough to settle her mind though.

  Exhausted, she walked to the bedroom, removed her gun and stored it in her nightstand. She turned on the shower and left the water to heat up, then peeled off her sweat-drenched, smoky clothes. The hot water felt heavenly as she stepped beneath the spray, desperate to cleanse her skin of the acrid odor of death. By the time she got out, her captain had called, saying he’d received the update she’d sent him, and they’d talk in the morning.

  Even freshly showered, her skin still felt clammy from the heat, and she checked the dial on her air conditioner. It made an odd clicking sound, the air in the house stifling, the old unit working furiously to cool the interior and failing. She found a fan in the closet, set it up to face her bed, and flipped it on.

  The humming helped to drown out her thoughts, yet her gaze fell on the phone number beside her bed.

  That number held the key to her past. For years, Ellie’s parents had kept her adoption secret, never telling her that she used to be a little girl called Mae. The night before her adopted mother Vera went in for open heart surgery, she’d given Ellie the name of the social worker who’d handled her adoption.

  Ellie had been debating what to do with the information ever since.

  Nerves drew her belly into a knot. Punching her pillow, she climbed beneath the sheets. But as she closed her eyes, voices whispered inside her head.

  Where do you belong? Do you have any real family?

  With trembling fingers, she dialed the number.

  The phone rang and rang then went to voicemail, so she left a message. If the woman didn’t return her call in the morning, she’d go by her office.

  But despite her determination, she couldn’t help asking, if her biological mother hadn’t wanted her when she was born, why would she want her in her life now?

  4

  Pigeon Lake

  Eighteen-year-old Katie Lee Curtis slung her backpack over her shoulder as she jogged toward the park. Tears blurred her vision. All she’d ever wanted to do was make her parents proud. Make her mama smile. Make her daddy love her.

  But for some reason she didn’t understand, he didn’t. And she’d realized tonight that he never would. It was getting harder and harder to take.

  He was nicer to her brother Marty, but he shut down when he looked at her, as if the sight of her disgusted him.

  Tonight, she’d run to her room, but she heard her parents fighting again, her daddy telling her mother to pray for forgiveness. To keep her mouth shut and a tight rein on their daughter. She didn’t stay to hear the rest.

  A noise behind her startled her, and she ducked behind a bush, peering around her to see if she was being followed. Two joggers ran past, their feet pounding the trail leading through the park.

  Katie Lee waited until they disappeared between the rows of pines then veered toward the river where she planned to meet Will. If her daddy found out she was out here, he’d kill her.

  But she needed a friend, and she and Will had bonded at the church.

  Night settled over the land, making the trees look like monsters with arms reaching out to grab her. Her breathing puffed out as she ran faster, twigs cracking behind her.

  She froze, eyes searching the woods, but the trees were so thick the moon was lost in them. At the sound of more crackling, certain they were footsteps, she dodged a fallen limb and picked up her pace. But she was disoriented and lost her footing. She slid, grabbing for something to break her fall, and slammed into a tree. Pain shot through her arm, but she pushed away and turned in the direction she thought was the river.

  The footsteps had died, leaving only the sound of critters rustling through the weeds.

  Heart hammering, she shoved ahead, running past a cluster of wild mushrooms. But suddenly she heard the footsteps again. Brush being crushed, loud breathing.

  Whoever it was, they were getting closer. She forged on as fast as she could but tripped over a root and went down. Seconds later, a big shadow loomed over her. Then his hands closed around her.

  5

  Somewhere on the AT

  His finger stroked the glass surface of the watch as the click echoed in his head. Ding. Ding. Ding.

  The world blurred with the memories. The horrible things he’d done. The cries of the women. Their hands clawing to get away from him. The dull, sightless eyes staring blankly at him. The quiet sound of their breathing.

  Then nothing.

  Except the evil inside him and an echoing voice in his head.

  Ticktock, Ticktock. You’ll be dead by one o’clock.

  Rising from the shadows of the ravine, he shuffled toward where she lay nestled among the hemlocks. She looked so peaceful.

  But she had been a fighter.

  Remorse clogged his chest, making it hard to breathe. She was so young. So pretty.

  Murmuring her name, he cradled her body in his arms then rocked her back and forth, stroking her soft hair with gloved fingers.

  He was tempted to kiss her goodbye, but he knew that would be foolish. A kiss would leave DNA. DNA could lead back to him.

  So he settled for another stroke of her hair before carrying her to the edge of the ridge. Looking down at the steep drop-off, he felt dizzy for a moment. The images of the women swirled behind his eyes, as clear as the raging water below.

  Ticktock, ticktock. There was no turning back time.

  No taking it all back.

  She had to die.

  So he dropped her into the river, watching her plunge into the swelling water.

  6

  Stony Gap

  The bitter odor of charred bones still haunted Ellie the next morning as she parked at the ruins of her family’s old homestead. She could still see the thick plumes of smoke curling into the sky as if it was yesterday, the flames shooting higher and higher, a bright orange, red and yellow blaze. The fire had destroyed most of their belongings, burning the mementos of her childhood. Although some memories were best left in the ashes and rubble.

  Though the fire had been extinguished long ago, the memory of her mother and father emerging from the blaze still made her shudder. Vera had had a heart attack afterwards and was still recovering. Now she stood by their truck, leaning against it, looking weak and pale and small. The woman who’d always been immaculate in her clothing and makeup, who’d wanted Ellie to be a girly girl and trade her police badge for a wedding ring, now wore a simple cotton shirt and black slacks, and her usually stylish bob needed trimming. The less coiffured look made her seem less… daunting.

  Ellie liked her better that way.

  Her father, having lost weight himself under the stress of the last weeks, shifted his hat to shade his eyes from the blistering morning sun.

  Ellie climbed from her Jeep, ignoring the twinge of emotions warring in her chest. She loved her parents, but after learning they’d lied to her all her life, she was struggling to find forgiveness. “What are you two doing here?” she asked as she approached them.

  Her father’s intense frown faded slightly, and Vera’s eyes held the wariness of a mother who didn’t know what to say to her child. Although sorrys had been said, their relationship was still tentative.

  “We’ve made a decision about this place,” her father said. “About whether or not to stay in Stony Gap.”

  Ellie braced herself. “What did you decide?”

  Her father clasped her mother’s hand and they both lifted their chins. “I know half of the town hates me,” her father said. “But I’m not running.”

  Vera dabbed at the corner of her eyes. “Ellie, we want to recreate our family home. And we want you to be with us every step of the way
.”

  Ellie’s lungs squeezed for air. Instinctively she shook her head and backed away. “I’m sorry… you can’t do that.”

  “This is our home,” Vera whispered. “The only home we’ve really ever had. We made a life here.”

  A life full of lies.

  “Look, honey,” said Randall, “we know you’ve been through a lot. But we want to prove to the town that we’re not bad, that we care about the people here.”

  He had his work cut out there.

  “We want to prove it to you,” he said gruffly.

  “You can’t go back and recreate something that wasn’t real,” Ellie murmured.

  “Then we’ll start over and build something new,” her father replied. “With the house. With the town. And… with you.”

  Ellie chewed the inside of her cheek. It took courage for her parents to stay. Her father had lost his job, the respect of the people he’d served as sheriff. Vera had lost her friends and her coveted position on the social ladder. Running would be easier for both of them.

  With a thud, she realized they were staying for her.

  Emotion built inside her, making it difficult to speak, and then her phone buzzed on her hip. Checking it, the number for the social worker appeared on her screen.

  “I’m sorry, but I have to go,” she said. “I caught a new case.”

  She didn’t have the heart to tell them that she’d called the social worker to start the hunt for her birth parents.

  7

  Crooked Creek

  Needing coffee before returning the call that could open Pandora’s box, Ellie stopped at the Corner Café.

  The parking lot was full of locals and tourists filling up on breakfast and preparing for the day. Canoes and kayaks sat strapped to the tops of SUVs, mingling with RVs, pickups and cars gearing up for outdoor adventures. A group of motorcyclists were clustered together, and a biking club veered from the parking lot as she pulled in. A van emblazoned with the logo of a rafting tour company reminded her of whitewater rafting with her father.