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

by Rita Herron

  The bright lights were blinding him, too, sharp shards pricking his eyeballs like lasers, piercing hot and fiery. The light became hotter, brighter, vivid colors flashing through his mind and swirling in a dizzying pattern and the world spun as if he was on a tilt-a-whirl, rolling over and over, upside down, constantly moving.

  Ticktock. Ticktock.

  Please make it stop! Make it stop!

  Then the whisper of a voice telling him what he’d done. The images came like lightning bolts, snaking through the blur that was his mind, the women lying helpless, their bodies succumbing unwillingly to what he’d done to them.

  He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t stop.

  The tiny grains of sand slipped through the globe of the hourglass like white powder. It was too late for forgiveness. The shadows of evil owned him.

  Rising from his bed, he went outside and scoured the woods, searching for peace, for the night to steal him away. But nothing would do that except the fire.

  No matter how many ways he’d imagined taking a life, it always had to end with the flames.

  Pulling a lighter from his pocket, he gathered kindling and flicked his lighter. Flames sparked and shot up, the soft sound of them dancing in the wind, the orange and yellow, mesmerizing him. The embers crackled and popped as the wood caught and the flames burst to life, rippling across the ground and eating the dried brush and weeds with their fury.

  87

  Crooked Creek

  Another fire raged through the wilderness as Ellie drove home. She’d seen it from her window, the bright orange ball of flames sucking the life from the trees and forest creatures. A quick call to Cord confirmed he was on his way to the scene to help with rescue efforts.

  Knowing she wouldn’t sleep, she stopped at Gillian’s home and studied those paintings again, snapping photographs of each one of the nameless children.

  Was the man torching bodies one of them? Was one of the girls Katie Lee?

  Praying Cord was okay, she finally returned home, collapsing into bed. Sleep brought those children’s voices whispering for justice, the screams of the torched victims. Then the fire was raging all around her, and she was running for her life, dodging falling trees and licking flames, the heat chasing her. But she tripped, then she was falling into a well full of dead bodies, the heat below reaching for her.

  Jerking her eyes open, she dragged herself from bed. It was still dark outside, but even without the sun pouring in through her floor-to-ceiling windows, the heat seeped through, overpowering the air conditioner.

  Outside, the mountains seemed quiet, the lack of a breeze creating a stillness that raised the hair on the back of her neck. Lightning danced in the distance, threatening a summer storm.

  Suddenly she thought she saw a movement. Slivers of moonlight slipped through the branches and fell on a dark figure running into the woods about seventy-five feet from her back porch. Ellie’s breath caught in her lungs, and she hurried to her bedside table and retrieved her gun.

  Carrying it at the ready, she searched the back of her property, but the figure had disappeared. She checked the back door. Locked and secure.

  Nerves on high alert, she hurried to the living room. Easing the curtains aside, she peered out into the front yard. The trees stood as still as statues. Checking the peep hole of the door, she spotted something on the porch floor.

  Her heart hammered as she scanned the yard to make certain the figure hadn’t woven around the side of the house, waiting to jump her.

  Gun braced, she unlocked the front door. Her gaze dropped to the object on the porch.

  The killer had been here. And he’d just left her a message, loud and clear. An hourglass.

  88

  The next morning, Ellie met the rest of the team at her office. Anger slashed Derrick’s face when she showed the hourglass to him. “He was at your house.”

  “He was. I spotted someone running into the woods, but it was too dark, and he was too far away for me to see who it was. Although he looked tall, muscular, a big guy.”

  “We still haven’t found Rigdon,” Derrick said. “Fits his description.”

  “Yes, it does.” She shared her theory about the unsub having possibly been one of Gillian’s placement kids.

  “I’ve tasked my partner with tracing cell phone calls for all the victims,” Derrick said. “I’ll check and see if he’s found anything.”

  While Derrick called his partner at the Bureau, Ellie phoned Shondra. “Hey, are you still with Sarah?”

  “Yes.”

  “How is she?”

  “She woke up for a few minutes last night but was disoriented and frightened. I promised her I wouldn’t leave.”

  “What’s her condition?”

  “She’s stable now. They’re going to send a victims’ advocate in to talk with her when she comes to.” Shondra sighed, sounding tired, but better than she had when Ellie had last seen her.

  “I appreciate you staying with her,” Ellie said. “It can’t be easy.”

  “No, but it’s making me get out of my own head for a while. I… I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry about.”

  A heartbeat passed. “Trouble is, I was open to therapy before. But now after being deceived by Melissa, I’m not sure I trust anyone.”

  “Tell me about it,” Ellie said softly. “Maybe we can talk to each other.”

  “Maybe,” Shondra agreed.

  “Meanwhile, keep an eye out for that guy Ryder. If he realizes Sarah made it, he might come back to finish what he started.”

  “Don’t worry. He’ll have to go through me to get to her.”

  Ellie smiled as she hung up. Shondra sounded stronger already, like a mother bear protecting her cubs.

  Derrick strode back in, the captain and Landrum on his heels. Laney rushed in behind them, her briefcase in hand.

  “I ran an extensive background check on Rigdon last night,” Derrick said, once they were all seated. “He was a former Navy SEAL.”

  “I suspected he had a military background,” replied Ellie.

  “You were right. He also did work for a private military contractor as a sniper. Has no family. Never been married. The contractor denies that he’s working for them at this time.”

  “Like they would divulge it if he was,” Ellie said wryly. Firms like that kept their work top secret.

  “Being a sniper takes a certain breed of man,” Derrick said. “The training, the skill, the hours and hours of being alone, studying your target. Takes iron-clad control and concentration.”

  “He certainly didn’t have control when he beat Sarah nearly to death,” Ellie pointed out.

  “True,” Derrick said.

  Ellie gestured toward the photograph of the hourglass the killer had carved into the women’s mastoid bone, then to the picture of the hourglass she’d found on her doorstep. “This hourglass is significant. He left one for me in the middle of the night. It’s at the lab now for analysis. Is it his way of warning me that I’m next? Or that I’m running out of time before I find another body?”

  “Could be both.” Captain Hale spewed a litany of curse words. “You need a security detail.”

  “No need,” Derrick said with a challenging eyebrow raised toward Ellie. “Detective Reeves and I will be working together until this case is solved.”

  Ellie’s eyes widened. Working, yes. But she didn’t want him around 24/7. That would be too…

  Captain Hale cleared his throat. “What else do you have on him?”

  Deputy Landrum glanced at the file on his computer again. “Nothing. No properties he owned, no paper trail for buying firearms, no record of arson.”

  “Maybe he hasn’t done this before,” Ellie said. “But something triggered him to attack Sarah.”

  “Attack, but not kill,” Derrick said. “The erratic behavior doesn’t fit with the MO of the other murders. Although they were violent, the killer planned them. He intentionally chose de
serted areas on the trail to leave the victims and carries out his ritual with the stones.” He pointed to the board. “Although parts of his MO vary, so he’s either experimenting with different methods of murder to perfect the kill or he’s escalating.”

  “He’s evolving,” Ellie said. “Needs to change it up to get off.”

  Derrick nodded. “Exactly.”

  “Any hits on arsonists in the area?” Ellie asked Heath.

  “A couple, but both are serving time. One of those was Paulson.”

  The man who set fire to her parents’ house. But that had been personal, an act of revenge.

  “Did you check for juvenile offenders?” Derrick asked. “Often arsonists begin in their teens.”

  “Not yet,” Deputy Landrum replied, his tone slightly defensive. “I’ve been busy looking at the backgrounds of the victims.”

  “I’ll get my partner to dig into the juvenile offenders,” Derrick offered. “He has access to a wider database. And a judge who can get sealed files opened for review.”

  “Anything on the victims’ phones?” Ellie asked.

  “Not yet.”

  “There was another fire last night. I’ll run point with Max Weatherby and make sure he didn’t find another crime scene,” Captain Hale interjected. “And give the sheriff an update. I think he was up most of the night supervising that latest wildfire investigation. But I’m sure he’ll want to speak to the press.”

  Ellie nodded her thanks. “With Gillian Roach being the perp’s first victim, we’re looking into the theory that she was killed because of her work.” Ellie inhaled a deep breath. “One of those files had to do with me.”

  Derrick offered her a small smile as if he knew that the confession had been a bitter pill for her to swallow. Already people had died because of her. She didn’t want to dive down that rabbit hole again.

  “What was in the file?” Captain Hale asked.

  “I have no idea,” Ellie said honestly. “But I’m guessing it held answers about my birth parents’ identity. I don’t know what that has to do with the other murders, but we’re looking for connections between the victims and also to Gillian.”

  Laney stood, her expression grim. “I might be able to help there.”

  Ellie and the others in the room grew quiet.

  “I compared Katie Lee’s DNA with her parents. That got interesting.” Laney gestured toward the photographs on the whiteboard. “First of all, Agnes Curtis is definitely Katie Lee’s biological mother.”

  “So she wouldn’t have had reason to contact the social worker,” Ellie said.

  “Maybe not. But Mr. Curtis is not Katie Lee’s biological father.”

  And Katie Lee had known as much, according to Will.

  “I’m going to run her DNA against the national system,” Laney said. “But that could take a while.”

  “We need to talk to the Curtises again,” Ellie said.

  Laney raised a finger. “I’m not finished.” She pointed to the photograph of Vanessa Morely. “Just to cover all the bases, I ran a comparison to our other victims. And it turns out that Katie Lee and Vanessa Morely have a familial match.”

  Ellie stared at her in shock. “What? There’s almost a twenty-year age difference between them.”

  Laney’s brows lifted. “I know… But I ran it again to double check. And I got the same results. Katie Lee and Vanessa share the same father.”

  89

  The possibilities ran through Ellie’s mind. An affair with the same man seemed unlikely, if not impossible. There were two other options—a sperm donor or sexual assault. “Did you run that DNA through CODIS?” she asked.

  “Next on my list.” Like Ellie, the ME relied on the Combined DNA Index System, which blended computer technology and forensic science as a tool for linking victims. It allowed federal, state, and local forensic labs to exchange DNA profiles electronically.

  Ellie ran her fingers through her ponytail. “Vanessa’s sister said their mother died in childbirth, and the father was not in the picture, but I’ll talk to her again. Hopefully Vanessa or their mother left some records behind.” She angled her head toward Heath. “See if you can get hold of her birth certificate and if there’s a father listed.”

  “On it.” Heath turned to his laptop.

  “We need to build a profile for the unsub,” said Derrick, placing his palms on the table. “If the same man raped Agnes Curtis and Vanessa’s mother, he would be older now.”

  Ellie mentally ticked away questions. “A lot of repeat sexual offenders start in their twenties. He assaults Vanessa’s mother and gets away with it. Then, about twelve years later, he rapes Agnes Curtis. Mrs. Curtis would only have been eighteen or so when she gave birth to Katie Lee.”

  “We’ve been looking for similar murder cases, not rapes,” Derrick said. “I’ll have a run at looking back at reports of sexual assault during that time in the area. But, of course, there may be survivors who didn’t come forward.”

  “What do we really know about Agnes Curtis?” Deputy Landrum asked.

  “Not much,” Ellie muttered. “Her husband barely let her speak.”

  “If Agnes wasn’t assaulted, she might have slept around before marriage or had an affair after they were married. Could be the reason the husband got them all in that church, under his thumb,” Derrick said.

  “What about a sperm donor?” Laney suggested.

  “I supposed that’s possible,” Ellie said. “Although why would Katie Lee’s mother have used a fertility clinic at that age?”

  “She and Mr. Curtis could have had trouble conceiving,” the captain suggested.

  “If that were so, it would mean both of them wanted a child. But now it seems Mr. Curtis didn’t bond with Katie Lee because she wasn’t his child.” She pursed her lips in thought.

  “We have Marty Curtis’s DNA too, remember?” Laney said. “I’ll check whether the Curtises are his biological parents. If they are, a sperm donor seems even more unlikely. And then what about Janie Huntington? How does she fit in all this?” Laney asked. “Her DNA was not a familial match to Katie Lee’s or Vanessa’s.”

  “Will said his mother and Agnes were friends,” Derrick replied. “Maybe Agnes confided in Janie about Katie Lee’s father, and the killer murdered her to keep her from talking.”

  Ellie mulled that over. “There’s only one way to find out.” She glanced at Derrick. “Let’s go ask the Curtises. Then we’ll have another chat with Vanessa’s sister.”

  90

  Pigeon Lake

  Mrs. Curtis answered the door, her expression wary. An oppressive sadness permeated the air, making the stuffy room feel as if the walls were closing in around Ellie. She couldn’t imagine how this woman was still standing.

  Ellie introduced Derrick, earning a nervous look from the woman. Her fingernails were now chewed down to the nubs, and a bruise darkened her wrist, raising Ellie’s anger. She scanned the room in search of the bastard husband.

  “May we come in?” Ellie asked. “We really need to talk.”

  “Josiah is not here at the moment. You should come back.”

  Ellie jumped at the opportunity to speak to the woman alone. “Please, Agnes. It’s important.”

  A tense second ticked by before Mrs. Curtis relented, and they followed her to the small kitchen. Ellie and Derrick seated themselves in the straight chairs at the table, while Mrs. Curtis folded her arms. No pleasantries or offers of coffee. “Did you find out who killed my daughter?”

  Ellie inhaled before answering. “I’m afraid not. But we’re doing everything possible to get the answers. That’s the reason we’re here. Is your son home?”

  The woman shook her head. “He went with his father to church. The funeral is tomorrow,” her voice quivered. “I… can’t believe we’re going to bury my baby.”

  Ellie’s heart wrenched for her, and the fact she was going to make things worse with her questions. “I’m sorry for your loss. But we do have to ask you something.”


  Agnes eyes flared with suspicion. “We already answered your questions.”

  Derrick breathed out. “We have some new information, Mrs. Curtis.”

  “All right, then,” Mrs. Curtis replied, then knotted her hands around her apron.

  “During the autopsy the medical examiner ran your daughter’s DNA,” Ellie said. “That’s routine. And because there have been other victims now, who died in a similar manner to your daughter, we’ve been searching for a commonality between them. The DNA results indicate that Katie Lee and one of those women share a familial match.”

  Shock flashed in the woman’s dark eyes. “What? What does that mean?”

  “More specifically, that they share the same father. The tests also revealed that Katie Lee’s father is not Mr. Curtis,” Ellie said softly. “Does your husband know?”

  The woman’s hand trembled as she pressed her fingers to her mouth, but she gave a small nod. Just then the back door burst open, and Mr. Curtis stormed in, his son behind him. Marty’s head was down, his shoulders slumped, his eyes bloodshot.

  “What’s going on here?” the father bellowed.

  Marty froze, eyes widening as he gripped the back of the chair where his mother sat. Her face had gone three shades whiter.

  “Go upstairs, Marty.”

  “But, Dad—” The boy lifted his chin, and Ellie noticed that his lip was cut.

  “I said go.”

  Shooting his father a nasty look, Marty darted past his parents into the hall. His footsteps pounded the wooden floor as he climbed the steps two at a time.

  Ellie turned back to Mr. Curtis, barely hanging onto her temper. Derrick straightened, his stance intimidating.

  “Mr. Curtis, we were just explaining that DNA results from your daughter and one of the other murdered victims we found this week indicate a familial match. We also learned that Katie Lee is not your biological daughter,” he said bluntly. “You failed to share that information with us.”