by Rita Herron
When the police had showed up at their door saying she was dead, he’d almost puked his guts out. The thought of her never coming back made him go cold all over.
Then he’d thought about that book. Her secret writing. The tears he’d heard her crying at night. The harsh way their daddy had sent her to her room sometimes for no reason. The way he treated her like she was a piece of gum on his shoe.
That detective had found one of her journals. But he knew where another was hidden. The one where she kept her darkest thoughts. He’d found it once and started to read it, but she’d screamed at him and become hysterical, then their daddy had come running in and demanded to know what was going on.
He’d kept his mouth shut, and Katie Lee had told her daddy she was having cramps.
“Hush your mouth,” his daddy had shouted at her. “We don’t talk about those things in this house.”
Then he’d locked her in her room for the rest of the night.
The house was quiet now as his father and mother were sharing spiritual time. There was nothing spiritual about the way Reverend Ike looked at the young girls in church.
Marty slipped into Katie Lee’s room, laid the flowers on her faded bespread, then found the loose board beneath the window by her bed where she hid the journal.
He felt like he was betraying her as he used his fingers to pry loose the board and remove the book from its hidey hole, but maybe it would hold the answers. The floor creaked as he stepped over it, and he jammed the book inside his T-shirt then hurried back to his own room. More than anything he wanted to know who’d killed his sister.
He had a bad feeling his daddy had something to do with it.
78
Cold Springs
A shudder coursed through Ellie. If the latest victim had drowned, it was an especially painful way of dying. The person experienced complete disorientation, their body felt as if was literally on fire as the lungs strained for air and water began to seep in. Sometimes drowning victims dissociated from their bodies, had hallucinations and had been reported to see faces of strangers floating in front of them. Some thought they actually felt their hands moving to grab at their hearts as they exploded.
Then again, at least she’d been dead before the unsub set fire to her.
The Evidence Response Team photographed the scene and began combing for forensics.
Laney checked the woman’s arms, torso and back for injuries, taking her time to magnify suspicious areas. “No gunshot wounds or stab wounds. I don’t see an injection site, but I’ll run a full tox screen in case she had alcohol, drugs or some other substance in her system.” She gestured toward the area behind her ear. “There’s the hourglass carving.”
Ellie’s stomach clenched.
Laney continued, “Her arm was broken. It appears her assailant grabbed her and twisted it, probably while she was fighting for her life.”
“He overcame her as she was running away,” Ellie said, picturing the scene in her mind. She hadn’t stood a chance.
79
Crooked Creek
Tension stretched between Ellie and Derrick as they headed into the station, a hum of voices echoing from the bullpen.
Through the glass window of her office, Ellie spotted her parents waiting and headed there while Derrick went to the conference room to add the photos of the latest crime scene.
She rolled her shoulders and took a fortifying breath before she joined her parents.
Randall and Vera reached out her arms as if to hug her, but Ellie stiffened. “Thanks for coming.”
Her father’s frown intensified, crinkling his eyes and making the grooves in his skin look even deeper. Her mother twisted her hands together, looking crestfallen.
Ellie steeled herself against their disappointment.
“Why did you want us to come in?” her father asked.
Ellie squared her shoulders. “I’m sure you’ve seen the news about the recent deaths.”
Her parents exchanged looks, then Randall nodded. A look of trepidation flashed in her mother’s eyes. “What does that have to do with us?” her father asked.
Ellie pulled a photo of Gillian from her phone. “Do you recognize this woman?”
“That’s Gillian Roach, the social worker we used years ago,” Randall said. “Did you talk to her?”
Vera released a shaky breath. “Did you, Ellie? Is that what this is about? You found your birth mother?”
Ellie curled her fingers around the edge of her desk as she sank into her chair. “No, I didn’t get a chance. Gillian is dead.”
80
Ellie’s father pulled a hand down his chin. “Dead?”
“That’s right. The first victim we found was Gillian.”
“Oh, my goodness,” said Vera, gasping, “how horrible to die in a fire.”
“The fire was not the cause of death,” Ellie said. “She was strangled first.”
“She was murdered?” Randall leaned back in his chair, arms crossed
Ellie maintained a neutral expression. “Her body was burned to cover up the evidence.”
Vera rubbed her forehead with her fingers, looking shaken.
“So again, I need to know if you talked to her after you gave me her name,” Ellie said bluntly.
“What are you implying?” Vera asked, her tone shrill. “You think that we killed Gillian?” She lurched up as if Ellie had slapped her in the face. “How could you possibly accuse your own parents of that?”
Ellie flattened her hands on her desk. “I’m not implying anything, Mother. But you’ve withheld information from me before. Maybe you contacted her to give her a heads up that I might call. Or maybe you changed your mind and didn’t want her to give me the information.”
Her mother made a rasping sound, and her father placed his hand over Vera’s.
“I don’t like where you’re going with this,” Randall said. “We would never do anything to harm Gillian, and we put a lot of thought into it before we revealed her name. We reconciled ourselves to the fact that you needed to know the truth and that we’d deal with your decision.” Randall glanced back at the bullpen. “Did Agent Fox put you up to interrogating us?”
“Are you seeing him, Ellie?” Vera asked, her voice cracking.
Ellie gave them both a warning look. “Agent Fox has nothing to do with this. He’s here acting as a consultant. Working for the murder victims we’ve found this week.”
Randall looked surprised. “Gillian’s murder is connected to that young teenage girl? And to the other woman you found?”
“Yes. We also found another body today. They’re all connected, and I’m trying to figure out how.”
Vera fiddled with the pearls around her neck, twisting them between her fingers, and Ellie realized she was avoiding eye contact. At one time, she would have trusted Vera completely, but now…
“Mom?” she said firmly. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“I’m sorry,” Vera said quietly, closing her eyes. “But yes, I called Gillian.” She opened her eyes with a pleading look. “I didn’t mean any harm. I just wanted her to take care of you.”
“Gillian was upset when she left work before she died. She took files with her that day, and another file not long before.” A heartbeat passed. “One of them was my file, Mom. The one about Mae.”
Guilt flashed on her mother’s face. Ellie didn’t have to point out the obvious, that Vera’s phone call could have gotten the social worker killed.
81
Derrick stood outside Ellie’s office, tense. He’d heard Ellie asking the Reeves if they’d talked to Gillian and he wanted to know the answer.
Randall thought he’d put her up to it. The damn man vastly underestimated his daughter’s intelligence. Ellie didn’t need him to tell her how to do her job. She was smart, savvy, and determined––he’d never met anyone with so much gumption. One day he might just tell Randall that.
Vera admitted she’d phoned the woman, and more questions plagued hi
m. How would the killer know that Vera had called Gillian? Had he known the social worker? Had he been watching her?
“I’m sorry, Ellie,” Vera said. “I meant no harm.”
Randall stood and took his wife’s arm. “She wasn’t trying to keep you from talking to her. She wanted to make certain Gillian knew that we were okay with her talking to you.”
“It wouldn’t matter what you thought,” Ellie pointed out. “That was between me and Gillian.”
“Detective Reeves,” Derrick said, “we have the identity of the last victim. We need to go.”
Ellie jerked her head up, her gaze meeting his. A myriad of emotions flickered in her eyes, before she addressed her parents, “Did you actually talk to Gillian?”
Vera shook her head. “She didn’t answer, so I left a message.”
“Exactly when was that?” Ellie pressed.
Vera looked up at Randall, and Ellie’s body went rigid. “The truth, Mom.”
“Your mother called her last week after her cardiologist appointment. But she’s telling you the truth, Ellie. Gillian didn’t answer or return her call.”
Ellie didn’t respond, giving her parents a cold stare. “Don’t keep anything else from me.”
Her mother’s face fell, and she leaned into her husband, but Ellie didn’t soften. She lifted her chin and strode past them.
“You know Vera’s call could have triggered Gillian’s need to run or to hide those files,” Derrick said as they rushed outside.
Ellie gave him a seething stare. “You don’t have to tell me that.” He opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off.
“You said you knew the last victim’s identity?” Ellie asked.
“Yes, Dr. Whitefeather identified her,” he said. “Her name is Janie Huntington.”
Ellie’s breath caught. “Oh, my God. Janie is Will Huntington’s mother.”
82
Stomach churning at the thought of notifying Will that his mother was dead, Ellie called Bryce and relayed Laney’s findings. He offered to call the uncle and have them meet at the sheriff’s office.
Meanwhile, Ellie and Derrick went to the Corner Café for a bite.
Although she had no appetite, the sight of Maude Hazelnut and her gossip herd didn’t help. Eula Ann Frampton was also there, sitting alone at the far end, her small frame almost lost in the shadowy corner. Maude’s brood practically clucked as they passed her to get to their table, their judgmental stares rubbing at Ellie’s craw.
Ms. Eula might be a recluse, but Ellie didn’t think she had a mean bone in her frail little body. In fact, she sensed Eula was stronger than any of the other woman in the café.
Ellie offered her a small smile as she walked past, noting the way Eula worried the beads around her neck as she sipped the herbal tea she always drank.
Deciding tea might help her own stomach, Ellie ordered a cup and a smothered smoked turkey sandwich while Derrick ordered the chili burger that had won Lola the grand prize at the chili cook off last summer. There would be another on the Fourth. Ticket money went to the local Meals on Wheels program. Ellie had already bought half a dozen just to support them.
“So tell me about Will Huntington and his mother,” Derrick said as their food arrived.
Ellie explained about Will’s connection to Katie Lee. “I don’t know if the mothers knew each other or if they’re connected to Gillian Roach, but that might be our missing link.”
83
Stony Gap
Derrick knew this was Ellie’s case, but she looked like she might break any minute.
Not that she’d admit it. She was proud, strong, stubborn, resilient and smart. That was what had drawn him to come back here.
They convened in the sheriff’s office, where Will Huntington and his uncle were seated. The dark-haired kid was twitchy and smelled of cigarettes, while the uncle looked like he’d come from work. He wore a uniform shirt with the logo for an electrical company on the pocket.
Introductions were made, and the sheriff took the lead. For once, Ellie seemed glad to let him.
“Will, Eric,” Bryce said addressing the son and uncle. “I’m sorry to have to inform you that Janie is dead.”
Will shot up from the chair, reached in his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. He rolled it between his fingers in a nervous gesture, then lifted a lighter, but the uncle shook his head and Will stuffed the lighter back inside his pocket.
“What happened?” Eric asked, his body tense.
“She was murdered,” Bryce said bluntly.
A heartbeat of silence passed.
“Do you think it was one of those losers she went out with?” Eric asked.
“Mom never dated,” Will snapped, sending an angry glare at his uncle. “Never.”
A second passed. “Did your mom complain about anyone bothering her?” Ellie asked.
“No, but she was upset about Katie Lee,” Will said. “That’s why she was killed, wasn’t it?”
Derrick and Ellie exchanged looks, while his uncle glanced at him with a dumbfounded look.
“Why would you say that?” Derrick asked.
Will bounced up and down on his heels. “I don’t know,” he bellowed.
“Will,” his uncle said sternly. “If you know something, tell the police.”
Pain wrenched the boy’s face. “All I know is that Katie Lee was upset about her parents. Her mama and mine were friends from college. Katie Lee thought something was weird with her folks.” He gulped, wiping at his nose as he paced. “She told me she didn’t think Mr. Curtis was her real daddy. She was going to find out who was.”
84
North Georgia State Hospital
Mabel pulled and yanked at the door, but they’d locked her in the room. They said it was for her own good, that she was a danger to herself.
But that wasn’t true. She’d only eaten a few too many pills once or twice because she missed her baby so much.
Then they’d brought her little one back to her, and put her in her arms, and everything was all right again. Except they still kept the door locked, and the window closed. She thought it might be sunny outside, and she wanted to take her precious angel for a walk.
She rocked her daughter in her arms, crooning soft words of love and baby talk that sounded silly to her own ears. But her angel loved them, or maybe she just liked the sound of her mom’s voice, even though Mabel couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket to save her life. Maybe she just felt the love coming from her heart, a love unlike anything Mabel had ever known she could feel. When she’d pushed her little girl from her body, she’d been overwhelmed with emotions—the sweetest connection possible and a fear that clutched at her with sharp tentacles. That minute she’d known she’d do anything to protect her child.
Anything.
The baby quieted and she banged on the door again. “Let me out. I want to take my baby for a stroll.”
She unfolded the blanket and checked the diaper, but it was clean, although where were her little booties? Her feet would get cold outside without them.
“Someone please open the door. My little girl needs her booties!”
But silence crept through the room, the only sound the lingering echo of her own voice and her breathing.
Sinking to the floor, tears spilling over, she clutched her angel tightly in her arms, then she made a tiny scratch on the wall to mark another day that she’d been here.
85
Stony Gap
Ellie’s head was reeling as the poor kid left the sheriff’s office. Will’s uncle was concerned about his safety, so Bryce walked them out, planning to talk to him about taking the boy to a safe house for a while.
“Did you have any idea Mr. Curtis might not be the girl’s father?” Derrick asked.
Ellie shook her head. “The family gave no indication of that. But if it’s true, it might explain why Mr. Curtis was so standoffish with Katie Lee. And perhaps why he was so strict and into the church.” Ellie’s mind raced. “B
ut I don’t get the connection with Gillian Roach. Unless Agnes Curtis adopted Katie Lee.”
“You want to drive to their house and confront them now?”
“No,” Ellie said, “I want confirmation first. I’ll call Dr. Whitefeather and ask her to run a DNA comparison between Katie Lee and both parents.”
“Good idea,” Derrick agreed. “Then what?”
“I say we go home for the night,” Ellie said. “Tomorrow maybe we’ll know about the DNA and can hit the ground running.”
“All right then. I’ll check in at the inn in town.” He gently touched her arm. “Unless you want company for a while.”
Her gaze locked with his, a seed of some emotion she didn’t understand flickering. She was tempted to ask him to stop by and have a drink, but her head was hurting and she hadn’t slept in days. She declined, knowing it was better not to stir up the past.
He looked slightly disappointed as she left, and she phoned Laney and explained what she needed.
Bone-weary and tormented by Will’s grief-stricken face, she could hear Meddlin’ Maude’s accusations in her head as she walked outside. Mentally reviewing the pieces of the puzzle, she tried to make them fit. Her thoughts returned to Gillian Roach and the fact that the killer had murdered her first. What if those files she had taken related to the killer?
86
Somewhere on the AT
The clock was ticking. Ticktock. Ticktock.
The shrill sound sent a mind-numbing pain through his ear all the way to his brain, and he screamed in agony for it to cease. But the sound only grew more intense, blending with the hideous sound of the man’s sinister laughter. He was enjoying this game, enjoying watching him suffer.