by Rita Herron
101
A cloying sickness swept over Ellie as Derrick relayed his conversation with the doctor at the fertility clinic. Just as she’d feared, the sperm donor was a dead end. And Laney had confirmed that Marty Curtis was his parents’ biological child. The hourglass the killer had left at her door was also a dead end. The lab found no prints or forensics on it.
The killer wanted her to know he was watching her. That he could get to her when he chose.
It was just a matter of time.
“So, it looks highly likely both Agnes Curtis and Wanda Morely were sexually assaulted,” Ellie said. She had hoped they wouldn’t have to go there. But they couldn’t avoid the theory when it was staring them in the eye.
A heavy silence fell between them. “We could be dealing with a serial rapist,” Derrick said. “But where does Gillian Roach come into play?”
“And Janie Huntington too. Gillian handled adoptions. What if she also covered cases where rape survivors wanted to find other homes for their babies?”
Derrick nodded. “Then Gillian was likely killed because she had information that could expose the rapist.”
“And he’s also committed all these murders to cover his secrets.”
“And he may have been attacking women for at least twelve years.”
Bile rose to Ellie’s throat and she snatched her keys. “I… I have to go. We’ll meet back up tomorrow.”
Derrick stood and caught her arm. “Ellie, I know what you’re thinking. I—”
“I said I’ll see you tomorrow.” She jerked away and rushed out the door, jogging to her Jeep. Derrick called her name as she started the engine, but she sped from the parking lot and raced from town, desperate to be alone and escape the glaring truth.
That she might be a product of a rape.
If she was, no wonder her mother hadn’t wanted her.
102
Ellie had once found careening around the winding mountain roads a tension release. But tonight, she felt too nauseated and out of control to maneuver the switchbacks. The orange and red sky in the distance was not the sunset. It was another fire rippling through the trail.
For a moment, she considered turning the car toward Cord’s. If he was home, she would tell him everything. Ask if he’d ever searched for his biological parents. Ever wondered.
How would he feel if he’d learned he was the product of a rape?
But the sting of that news was too fresh, and she wasn’t ready to share it. Who was this monster who’d tormented women for over a decade? How many children had he fathered? Were the killer’s targets his own children, ones who’d come looking for him?
Her head swam with all the questions.
The image of the hourglass on her doorstep floated back to her. Had the son of a bitch who’d fathered her put it there as a warning?
Back home, she went straight to the kitchen and poured herself a tumbler of vodka. The tart sweetness burned her throat as it went down.
Tears trickled down her cheeks as she carried the drink to the bathroom, grabbed a washcloth from the towel bar, and scrubbed her face, desperately trying to scour the ugly thoughts from her mind.
When she looked in the mirror, she didn’t even recognize herself. A gaunt, pale face with eyes that were haunted by horror stared back.
Disgusted and suddenly dizzy, she held onto the wall as she staggered to her bedroom. She set the drink onto the nightstand and fell backward onto the bed. The room spun and swayed, and she closed her eyes to stem the nausea.
Fear took root in her soul. Her birth mother might be better off if she didn’t look for her. She probably wanted to forget what had happened to her. Or maybe she had moved on and had found peace or another family?
She bolted upright, immediately regretting it as the mattress dipped and the room blurred into a gray haze.
If this killer was cleaning up after himself, he might be planning to target her birth mother.
She pounded her fist against her chest in frustration. She had to find her. Save her.
Maybe she could even do it without revealing her identity. After all, her birth mother gave up a baby named Mae. No one except for Randall and Vera, and now her team, knew she was Mae. No one else ever had to. If she met her birth mother, she’d simply be Detective Ellie Reeves, tracking down another killer.
103
Soulfood Barbecue Bluff County
Derrick finished his beef brisket sandwich, not surprised the place was nearly deserted at this time of night.
The smoky meat was one of the best meals he’d ever put in his mouth, the kind that you thought about for days afterwards. He could taste the cayenne, paprika and chili powder, but it was the mesquite wood chips that added the real flavor to the beef. And the greens were cooked slow with fatback, adding to the rich flavor.
Too bad Ellie hadn’t joined him. He didn’t like the way she’d left the police station. He’d seen the wheels turning in her mind and knew it would lead to nowhere good. Dammit. She was in pain and hurting, but she’d pushed him away.
Who could blame her? He’d driven out of town when her parents had been arrested a few months ago and left her to pick up the pieces of her broken life.
He itched to go to her and comfort her. But would she want that from him?
She hadn’t earlier.
The one person she might trust was that ranger, Cord McClain. Derrick hadn’t liked him when they’d met, had even questioned him in the Weekday Killer murders.
The man was in love with her. Anybody could see it.
Anybody but Ellie.
What did it matter to him? His life was in Atlanta. Ellie and Cord’s lives were here. Maybe they belonged together.
Silently cursing himself, he ignored the stabbing feeling in his chest and accepted the shot of Woodford Reserve he’d ordered, the only one he intended to allow himself tonight. No getting shitfaced until this case was solved and he was back in his Decatur apartment.
Alone. The way he’d been for so long.
Frustrated, he tossed back the shot, then waved the waitress over and ordered a cup of Brunswick Stew to take to Ellie. Knowing her, she hadn’t eaten.
The waitress returned almost immediately, and he paid then strode outside. The minute he stepped through the door, he was pummeled by the heavy odor of burning timber in the distance and saw the gray billows of smoke rolling across the night sky. McClain and the other rangers were probably working around the clock to contain the blaze.
The fire looked close by, too, as if it might be near Ellie’s.
He climbed in his car, cranked the engine and headed toward her.
104
Crooked Creek
The fire danced around her, licking at her toes and searing her clothes. The hissing sound blended with the sinister whisper of his voice and the soft lilt of the sand slipping through the hourglass as time faded away. One grain at a time.
Ellie saw it all as the heat began to melt her clothes and her skin, raw flesh mingling with the fabric strands and puddling around her body.
Smoke thickened around her like a blanket of gray, smothering and heavy, sucking the oxygen from her lungs. The cackle of her cry for help was lost in the flickering flames as they crawled up her body and threaded their orange heat through her, the sizzling so intense that she opened her eyes to see if death was close.
Maybe it would save her from the suffocating smoke and the pain of the fire.
Suddenly a pounding shook the house, rattling the windows. Ellie jolted awake, her head fuzzy. She always left a light burning in the bathroom but now there was only darkness.
Shaking with the sense that she wasn’t alone, she reached for the lamp. But when she flipped the switch, nothing happened. A wave of cold terror gripped her.
She yanked open the drawer and pulled out her gun, bracing it at the ready.
The pounding echoed again, the sound so intense that she climbed from bed, disoriented and confused. Heart hammering, she snatched her p
hone and accessed her flashlight, then froze dead still beside her bed, her heart beating against her chest as she took in the scene. A circle of standing stones surrounded her bed.
105
Derrick banged on Ellie’s door, the bag holding Ellie’s take-out stew in his other hand. The fire seemed to be blowing this way, and he could smell smoke, but it wasn’t as near her house as he’d first thought.
The lights were all off, which told him something was wrong. She always left a light burning.
“Ellie!” he shouted.
He jiggled the door and called her name again. If he had to, he’d break down the damn door. But he heard footsteps shuffling inside and then saw the peephole open.
“Ellie, it’s me. Can I come in?”
The door lock turned, and she opened the door, the glow of the moon illuminating her pale face.
“He was here again,” she said in a whisper.
He gently took her arm and stepped inside. Setting the bag of food on the table, he removed her gun from her fingers. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head. Her hair was tousled, her eyes slightly dulled, her clothes rumpled. “He came in while I was sleeping,” she murmured.
Derrick frowned. “Did you see him?”
“No,” she hissed, her voice laced with disgust. “I didn’t even hear him.”
She was trembling so badly, he laid her gun on the table, then drew her against him. The fact that she’d laid her head against his chest showed her level of distress.
“I’m just glad you’re okay,” he said softly.
A soft sob escaped her, and she clung to him. Tenderness for her made him drop a kiss to her hair. But she suddenly pushed away and wiped at her eyes angrily. “I don’t understand how I slept through him breaking in. I’m usually a light sleeper. If I’d woken up, I could have caught him.”
“Ellie,” Derrick said gruffly. “You have to stop being so hard on yourself. You’re doing everything you can to find this maniac. You have to sleep sometime.”
“Not if sleeping allows him to kill again.” She gestured for him to follow her to her bedroom.
Using her phone flashlight, she shined it across the room, and his chest clenched. Not only had the unsub been in her house, but he’d stacked stones all around her bed.
“We’ll get a crime-scene team out here,” Derrick said. “Maybe he left some evidence behind.”
“So far he hasn’t. He’s smart. The lab didn’t find anything on the hourglass he left me.”
Rage fueled his determination to catch this guy. Ellie had survived two ruthless killers before. This one was not going to get her.
106
Ellie couldn’t sleep after the Evidence Response Team left her house. She wondered if she’d ever feel safe there again. The security system had been set, but the alarm had not gone off, meaning somehow the killer had gotten past it.
She arranged to have it changed immediately while Derrick went back to sleep and shower at the inn. Still shaken, she grabbed her laptop and headed to the Corner Café for breakfast.
The early morning crowd hadn’t arrived yet, so she ordered her usual and claimed a booth in the back. While she sipped coffee, she heard a couple of young women talking excitedly about attending college in the fall. Will’s comment about his mother and Katie Lee’s mother attending the same college echoed in her head.
They hadn’t met at Ole Glory. They’d known each other before their children had been born. If Agnes had been assaulted during her time at the college, maybe Janie knew the man’s identity, or… had she been assaulted herself?
Her breath stalled in her chest.
Knowing the Curtises wouldn’t talk to her, she called Janie’s brother Eric. He sounded half asleep when he answered.
“Mr. Huntington,” she began. “I have more questions about your sister. Will mentioned that Janie and Agnes Curtis attended college together. Where was that?”
“North Georgia Community College,” he answered. “Why? What does that have to do with her death?”
“I don’t know if it does, but we’re exploring all angles. There’s something else I have to ask. Who is Will’s father?”
The man grunted. “I don’t know. Janie refused to talk about him or tell me his name. And he never once came looking for his son.”
Her pulse jumped.
“Janie must have been in college when she got pregnant. Was she happy about the pregnancy?”
“That’s hard to say. She’d moved out of the house and in with a couple of other girls. By the time I learned she was pregnant, she was pretty far along.”
“What about your parents?”
“They wanted her to give up the baby, even contacted some social worker and were going to set it up. But Janie wouldn’t do it.” His voice sounded rough. “She said she’d raise the baby on her own. One of her roommates told her about this home that helped pregnant young girls. They gave the girls a place to live, counseling and medical treatment. After Will was born, I helped her out for a while until she got a job.”
“What was the name of that home?”
“I think it was called something with the word Love in it.”
Ellie started furiously googling. “Was it Circle of Love?”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
That had to be her next stop.
107
Circle of Love
Ellie rolled her aching shoulders as she and Derrick stood outside Circle of Love, a large white farmhouse with a wraparound porch, flowerbeds and a vegetable garden. Heat lightning zigzagged across the sky, which held pockets of thick thunderclouds. The storm had to break soon.
“I didn’t know homes for unwed mothers still existed,” Derrick said.
“I think they’re more progressive than years ago, when girls were sent away by their parents so no one would know they were pregnant. This one offers counseling and prenatal care as well as guidance for adoption and classes on caring for the infant.” She’d bet Gillian Roach had known about this place.
“You okay?” Derrick asked.
Ellie put on a brave face, but the truth was no. The fact that she’d slept through this madman being in her house had shaken her senseless.
Derrick pushed through the door, and she led the way inside. The front room resembled a hotel lobby, with comfy chairs and a desk for visitors to sign in. To the right she saw a large living room with tables for games, a TV and a fireplace that looked homey. Windows allowed in sunlight and offered a panoramic view of the hills beyond. She spotted two pregnant teens in the room chatting with an older woman.
Ellie explained the reason for their visit to the woman who greeted them. “We need to speak to whoever is in charge here.”
“That would be Ms. Bodine. I’ll ask her to come to the desk.”
A minute later, a woman who looked to be in her thirties appeared, wearing slacks and a white cotton blouse, her hair a brown chin-length bob. She led them into her office, which held a seating area with a couch and two club chairs as well as a more formal desk space. Books filled a pine bookcase and warm sunlight flowed through the window.
Ms. Bodine seated herself then steepled her hands on the desk. “I’m not sure what I can do for you.”
Responding, Ellie laid out the facts of the investigation.
“That was a long time ago,” Ms. Bodine said. “There have been a lot of girls here since then.”
“We understand,” Derrick replied. “But we have reason to believe that a girl who lived here had been sexually assaulted, possibly more than one.”
Ms. Bodine pressed her lips into a thin line. “I still don’t know what I can do,” she murmured. “Our records are confidential.”
“Are any counselors still around from that time?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“How about records left behind?” Derrick asked.
“Our computer files only go back ten years. Funding went towards other more important aspects of our program such as counsel
ing, childbirth and child-rearing classes and programs to acclimate the girls back into their lives after they leave here.” She paused. “Again though, there are confidentiality issues.”
Ellie pulled a warrant from her pocket. “I understand,” Ellie said. “But we need to see those files. Do you have hard copies?”
Ms. Bodine stood, brushing her hands over her slacks. “Yes, in the basement. I can show you down there, but it’s kind of a mess.”
“That’s fine,” Ellie said. “But if one of the girls named her attacker to the counselor, we may be able to stop him before he attacks again.”
108
North Georgia State Hospital
Mabel clutched her baby girl to her, terrified to lay her in the bed. Terrified they would come and take her.
It had happened before. So many times to the other girls. Then the girls had disappeared, too.
Her baby whimpered, and she swaddled her closer to her chest. This little girl was her heart. If they took her away, Mabel would die.
Something scraped the exterior wall and she shivered, wishing she could open the window and let the fresh air in, but it was locked. It was always dark in here, too. Felt like night when it was day and day when it was night, and she couldn’t tell the difference.
Her baby whimpered, and she rocked her in her arms, pouring out all the love in her heart, her mind struggling for the words to the lullaby her mama used to sing to her.
But the words escaped her.
Frustrated, she slapped her head, hoping to jog her memory, but she’d lost that a long time ago when they’d put her in here and told her she had to behave if she wanted to keep her daughter.
But something was wrong now. She’d heard them whispering outside the room today. Seen the way they twitched and squirmed and looked away.