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

by Rita Herron

  Both had to be dealt with.

  Hunching in the shadows beneath the awning, he watched the people in Crooked Creek adding more Fourth of July decorations. Red, white and blue covered everything, and there were at least five floats in the vacant parking lot of the feed store that had gone out of business three years ago.

  One frilly float held a small throne and a larger one boasted signs for Miss Teen Bluff County and Little Miss Bluff County. He’d watched the mothers fuss over their little girls in their frou-frou dresses, wearing makeup not fit for kids their age, and sporting bows that were almost as big as their heads. The mothers were clucking around like hens, darting furtive glasses at the other darlings and their moms, their determination to win evident in their cutthroat whispers.

  The gossipy group he’d heard talking about Ellie and her family had gathered to set up a stage for the teen talent show and the food vendors were in place.

  At one end, little kids, ten and under, were taping streamers, plastic flowers, gemstones and whatever else they could find to dress up their bikes.

  The parade was the perfect place to claim his next victim.

  While everyone was busy enjoying the festivities, stuffing their faces with hot dogs, funnel cakes and snow cones, cheering noisily as the parade carried on, he could slip away with her and no one would know.

  Before the high school band finished playing the Alma Mater, and Miss Teen and Little Miss Bluff County were announced, they would be far away in the woods where no one would find her.

  Except for the detective. He’d lure her there. Make her think she could save the day.

  But it was too late for both of them. Soon their bodies would turn to ash. And then he could finally escape and put all this behind him.

  120

  Somewhere between Pigeon Lake and Crooked Creek

  Ellie couldn’t shake the image of a young Agnes from her mind. A girl who’d been taken advantage of. A girl who’d learned she was pregnant but had no idea who’d fathered her child. A girl so terrified of what her parents would think that she’d run away. A young woman so vulnerable that she’d been susceptible to Reverend Ike and his agenda.

  There was a tiny chink in her anger for Mr. Curtis. It sounded as if he might have really cared for Agnes when they’d met, that he’d meant to do right by her and Katie Lee. When had that compassionate person turned into a controlling, condescending, hard man? Had Reverend Ike and his teachings changed him?

  The storm clouds accumulating made it feel later than it was, and fog enveloped the road ahead. Two cars whizzed past her heading the opposite direction, and the sound of an engine roared behind her as a car sped up. Tires screeched as the driver rounded the curve too fast, and she tensed, glancing back to make sure he didn’t run off the road.

  His brakes squealed and he slowed, but she kept a steady grip on the steering wheel, and adjusted her fog lights, hoping the driver stayed back.

  No such luck. The vehicle’s headlights nearly blinded her as he ramped up his speed again. She pumped her brakes, hoping to send him a warning, but he accelerated, weaving over the center line, then closing in on her tail.

  She swerved sideways then veered toward a side street to let him pass. Instead, he steered around the curve and spun up behind her.

  This wasn’t just some overzealous joy rider. He was following her.

  Whoever it was wasn’t hiding the fact either.

  She squinted to determine what kind of vehicle it was, but the lights and fog made it impossible to tell. Maybe an SUV of some kind. The muffler sounded loud though, as if the vehicle was older, on its last legs.

  Flooring her Jeep, she picked up speed. His tires screamed as he careened onto the road behind her. She slowed and waved him around just to see if he would pass her, but he was going so fast he slammed into her rear bumper.

  Cursing, Ellie spun sideways, grappling for control as her Jeep skidded toward a boulder. On a wing and a prayer, she managed to control the car, shrieking to a halt. The SUV had bounced back then skated sideways toward the ravine.

  Breath panting out, she yanked her gun from her holster as she slid from her Jeep. Dust swirled around her face, rising from the earth like a sea of ashes. She scanned the area quickly and noted the driver hadn’t gotten out yet. The front end of the SUV, a gray Pathfinder, hung precariously over the edge of the ravine, rocking back and forth.

  Inching slowly toward him, she kept a look out in case the driver wasn’t alone. Hell, he might be hurt, or he might be watching, ready to ambush her.

  Coughing at the dust, she inched toward the driver’s side. Suddenly she saw movement inside. The driver was trying to open the mangled door. But when he did, it became wedged in the ground.

  Ellie eased to the opposite side and snuck up on the vehicle, bracing herself for a weapon to appear as she peered inside.

  Instead, Marty Curtis was wiping blood from his forehead. He looked dazed and disoriented, but she didn’t see a gun.

  She rapped on the window, and he turned toward her, his eyes filled with terror. She gestured for him to stay still, then she gently tugged the passenger door open. The Pathfinder wobbled unsteadily, and Marty yelped in fear.

  “Stay calm,” she mouthed, reaching out her hand in offering. He made a strangled sound but slowly eased across the seat. Another wobble of the car and the front jerked, scraping rock.

  She snatched his arm and screamed for him to jump as she pulled him from the vehicle. A second later, the Pathfinder shook and rocked again then teetered over the edge and plunged into the ravine.

  Marty fell against her and they both hit the ground, dirt and rocks flying. Ellie’s chest ached for a breath as she dragged him further away from the overhang. When they reached a tree, she let go of him and turned to him, arms crossed.

  “What the hell were you doing chasing me like that? You could have gotten us both killed.”

  The boy’s chin quivered, then he made a mewling sound. “I’m sorry. I… just wanted you to stop.”

  “You could have called me,” Ellie said, sweat pouring down her neck and back. The height of the ravine was making her dizzy, and her chest ached from struggling to breathe. She forced herself not to look down.

  “I couldn’t, Daddy took the phone,” Marty said, his voice shaky.

  Ellie willed herself to calm down. “I’m sorry, Marty. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

  He ran his hand over his buzz cut. “After you left, my old man went crazy. He accused Mama of telling people about Katie Lee, that she wasn’t his. I’ve never seen him so mad, like he might hurt her. I… thought you could stop him.”

  Ellie cursed herself. She’d stirred up a hornets’ nest in that house and this teenage boy was being stung by it. “I’m sorry, Marty. I’ll go back and make sure she’s all right.”

  “I’ve never seen him get so rough. What if he kills my mama?”

  “He won’t,” Ellie said, “I’ll make sure of it. Come on, I’ll drive you back and make sure things have settled down.”

  “What about my car?” His voice splintered. “Daddy will be furious.”

  “You had an accident,” Ellie said, willing to forgive the fact that he’d chased down a police officer, and could have gotten them both killed. “I’ll make sure your father knows that,” Ellie said. “And if he has insurance, it should cover it.”

  He nodded, although he was trembling as he followed her to the Jeep.

  When she climbed inside, she pressed Shondra’s number. Her friend answered on the second ring. She quickly explained that Rigdon was in custody and asked Shondra to meet her at the Curtises. “I need your help,” Ellie said. “Rigdon confessed to beating Sarah, but not to the murders. But for now, Sarah is safe.”

  121

  Crooked Creek

  Derrick studied Rigdon’s body language. The man was growing more agitated with every second.

  “Do you still take any sleep medication?” Derrick asked.

  Rigdon made a sound o
f disgust. “I still take the same damn pills, despite everything. I surrendered them when I was booked.”

  Derrick strode to the booking desk and retrieved the bottle. When he pulled it out, he read the label—Z. A doctor named Frankenson had prescribed it. He hurried back to the interrogation room. “Is this the doc who originally conducted the sleep study?”

  “No, a new primary care doctor.”

  “Do you recall the name of the doctor who first prescribed it?”

  “I’ll never forget it,” Rigdon said. “Dr. Lewis Hoyt. He and this doctor named Hangar ran the study. When I talked to them about the nightmares I’d had while on the sleep medication, Dr. Hoyt brushed me off. Said I could go off them if I wanted. But…”

  “But you’re hooked on them?” Derrick asked.

  “I guess so. I tried a few times to kick them, but then I literally wouldn’t sleep for a week. Then I’d get so anxious and jittery and sometimes I… just exploded.”

  “Like you did when you beat up your girlfriend.”

  Rigdon closed his eyes, emotions overcoming him as he collapsed back into the metal chair. “I don’t even remember doing that. But when I saw those standing stones, I… had these flashbacks of that study.”

  “What was it about the stones?”

  “I… think they were there. I remember seeing stones like that through the window when I was in that room. Then the hallucinations started.”

  “Can you describe the place?”

  Rigdon closed his eyes. “There were different rooms,” he said in a low voice. “I was strapped down and given the drug. Then this bright light was shining directly in my eyes. The room was cold and a clock was ticking. Over and over, it was so loud it hurt my ears and the light hurt, then I heard screaming.” He opened his eyes, his pupils flared. “And then… I don’t know what happened exactly. But… I… I know it was bad.”

  Derrick gave him a moment. “That memory triggered you to hurt Sarah?”

  Rigdon looked down at his scarred hands. “I think I was trying to escape, to get away… and it was like she was them, the ones in the hallucination who wouldn’t let me go…”

  Derrick heard the anguish in Rigdon’s tone. Not only had the young women in the study been sexually assaulted, something had happened to the young men.

  What exactly were those doctors doing in that study?

  122

  Pigeon Lake

  “Stay here, Marty,” Ellie ordered, as she met Shondra outside the Curtises house. “I’ll let you know when we defuse the situation.”

  He rocked himself back and forth, and she reached inside, laying a hand on his shoulder. “You did the right thing coming to me. We’ll make sure your mama is safe. I’ll be back.”

  Marty nodded, although the poor kid was battling tears. Ellie glanced at Shondra, who wore her sympathy like her badge, even though Ellie knew she was as tough as they came.

  They silently rushed towards the house, creeping along the bushes and crouching low so as not to draw attention. As they approached, she and Shondra scanned the property, pausing to listen by the windows. The heat clung to every pore in Ellie’s body, the silence from the woods and mountains ominous as pigeons flocked the backyard. Ellie motioned for Shondra to cover the front door, and she inched around to the back. She peered inside the windows, but the curtains were drawn as if intentionally shutting out the world.

  She inched up the three steps to the back stoop and looked inside the kitchen. A pot was boiling on the stove, but she didn’t see either of the Curtises.

  She jiggled the doorknob, and the door opened. She crept through the room, pausing in the hallway. The couple’s bedroom looked to be at the end of the hallway upstairs, but it was dark. Still, she swept through the upper floor with her flashlight, but no one was there.

  Back into the hallway downstairs, she met Shondra, who signaled the living room was clear before gesturing toward a door that led downstairs to a basement.

  The hair on the back of Ellie’s neck prickled as she slowly turned the knob.

  The minute she did she heard Mrs. Curtis scream.

  123

  Ellie kept her weapon at the ready and slowly tiptoed down the steps. Shondra had her back.

  The stairwell was dark, the sound of dripping water echoing like a torture chamber. Mr. Curtis’s sharp voice shouting at his wife and his shoes pounding on the concrete floor floated towards them.

  It was dark, except for candles lit in a circle around a chair where Mrs. Curtis sat hunched over, her spirit broken.

  Reverend Ike stood over her, condemnation glowing in his eyes. A metal tub large enough for a human sat to the right, filled with water. An odd, bitter odor permeated the room.

  Then she spotted the source of the smell, a pot brewing on a hotplate. Judging from the dazed look in Agnes’s eyes, it was some kind of tea, probably laced with psilocybin or another hallucinogen.

  The reverend must be drugging his parishioners to brainwash them.

  “I promised you redemption,” the reverend said. “Agnes, your husband made you respectable by marrying you. He offered you a haven for your illegitimate child. But you have disobeyed.”

  “You should have kept silent, Agnes,” Mr. Curtis said. He was cradling a shotgun. “Now my son and I will have to live with your shame.”

  Agnes lifted her pale thin face, gaunt with fear. “You know what they did to us, that I was drugged,” she finally said to her husband. “And you’re doing the same thing now.”

  “I gave you a home and a respectable life,” Josiah said angrily.

  As Agnes turned to the reverend, tears swam in the depths of her eyes. “Did you know what they were doing back then? Were you part of it?”

  “I heard the ramblings of some wayward girls who denied they’d been sleeping around.”

  “We didn’t do anything except trust the doctor at that clinic,” Agnes said. Finally, a hint of some fight left in her. “And he took advantage of us.”

  “Your memory is foggy because you choose not to admit your mistakes,” the reverend said.

  “My mistake was listening to you and not going to the police. If I had, my daughter might still be alive.”

  “Shut up,” Josiah shouted.

  “You hated Katie Lee more every day. Did you kill her?” Agnes cried.

  “Of course not,” Josiah snapped.

  The reverend took Agnes’s arm and she swayed as she stood.

  It was time to act. Ellie took two more steps, the staircase creaking. She felt Shondra behind her. “Step away from Agnes,” Ellie ordered. “Both of you.”

  The two men looked up, stunned.

  “You’re trespassing,” Mr. Curtis said, turning the shotgun on Ellie. “Get out or I’ll shoot you and tell the sheriff I thought you were an intruder.”

  “You’re going to kill me and keep covering for Katie Lee’s killer?” Ellie replied as she aimed her own weapon at him.

  “Yeah, Dad, are you?” Marty yelled.

  Ellie tightened her fingers around her weapon, “Stay back, Marty.”

  But he didn’t. His shoes pounded the steps, rushing toward them. “Did you kill her, Dad?”

  Mr. Curtis shook his head in denial. His hand was trembling, the shotgun wavering. “No, son. I swear I didn’t.”

  Ellie eased toward him.

  “Then who did?” Marty screamed. “You know, don’t you?”

  As Mr. Curtis shook his head again, Ellie took advantage of the moment and shoved the gun upward.

  The reverend pushed Agnes into the tub of water. The drugs must have taken effect now, because she collapsed without a fight. Her dark hair swirled around her face as she went limp.

  Shondra raced toward the reverend, her gun on him, and Marty ran to his mother. As Ellie wrestled with Josiah, Mr. Curtis dropped down, knocking over the candles. They fell over, hot wax pouring.

  “Do you know who killed your daughter?” Ellie yanked him around and handcuffed him.

  “I didn’
t do it,” Josiah stuttered.

  “Mom! Mom!” Marty helped his mother from the water, while Shondra called for an ambulance and restrained the reverend.

  Ellie pushed Josiah against the wall and into a chair.

  The flames from the candles were starting to spread, creeping along the floor and catching as they found cardboard boxes and a stack of old church bulletins.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Ellie shouted.

  Marty put his arm around his mother’s waist, and she staggered, opening her eyes. “Come on, Mom,” he said as he helped her cross the room.

  The flames burst higher as Shondra dragged the reverend forward and Ellie pushed Josiah toward the steps, battling through the thickening smoke as they raced upstairs.

  124

  Minutes later, Ellie’s heart ached for Marty, who stood beside the ambulance shaking while the paramedics examined his mother and firefighters ran into the house to extinguish the blaze.

  Angelica and her crew showed up seconds later. The reporter jumped out and hurried toward Ellie.

  “Keep that camera off the family,” Ellie ordered.

  “Tom, do as the detective says,” said Angelica, motioning for her cameraman to lower his lens. Angelica halted, her expression concerned as she zeroed in on Marty.

  Marty’s hair stood on end—he’d run his hand through it a dozen times. The poor kid had been through a lot. Losing his sister, then trying to protect his mother.

  Deputy Landrum read Curtis and the reverend their rights, then shoved them in the back of his squad car while Ellie spoke to the medics. “Mrs. Curtis needs to be treated for trauma and to be evaluated by a psychiatrist. Also run a tox screen. I believe she was drugged, possibly with a hallucinogen.”

  “Will do. What about the son?”

  “Physically he’s okay, but emotionally, I don’t know,” Ellie said. “He needs to be with his mother right now.”