Ruth’s frightened eyes fell on Reggie’s calm face. She blinked, as if surprised to see her, then looked around the room.
“That’s it. Now slow your breathing. Inhale slowly, now exhale.”
Keeping eye contact with Ruth, Reggie breathed in deeply, then let out a slow breath of air, urging Ruth to do the same.
“That’s it. Just relax and breathe. Everything’s going to be okay.”
“No, it’s not okay,” Ruth gasped, shaking her head from side to side, trying to catch her breath. “Candy’s not okay.”
Bolting up and out of her chair, Ruth stared past Reggie, seeing only the horror of the dark swamp, crying out in anguish.
“She’s dead. They…they killed her.”
✽ ✽ ✽
Reggie stood over Ruth’s sleeping figure, her forehead furrowed with worry, her heart still pumping hard from the effort to get Ruth sedated and back to her room after her startling revelation and the panic attack that had followed.
A frantic knock announced Eden’s arrival. Reggie closed the bedroom door behind her and crossed through the sitting room to open the door.
“What happened? Is Ruth all right?”
Eden hurried inside, looking around at the empty room. Her eyes moved to the closed bedroom door.
“She’s sleeping now, Eden,” Reggie said, dreading what she was going to have to say next. “But she did remember what had happened. At least some of it.”
Eden turned and stared at Reggie in silent expectation. The therapist lowered her small frame into a chair, her legs still shaking.
“I need to sit down.”
Reggie looked up at Eden, not bothering to wipe away the sheen of perspiration that lit up her ebony skin. She didn’t have time to waste. She had to tell Eden the truth quickly. The police would need to be called. An investigation would have to be started.
“And I think, when you hear what Ruth told me, you’re gonna want to sit down, too.”
Chapter Fourteen
The stress in Eden Winthrop’s voice was palpable even over the phone. Nessa motioned for Jankowski to close the door to their shared office, trying to concentrate on Eden’s frantic words. Jankowski rolled his eyes and sighed, then stood and pushed the door shut. He turned back to Nessa, crossing his arms over his wide chest, eyebrows raised.
“Eden, hold on a minute,” Nessa interrupted. “Detective Jankowski’s here with me and I’m gonna put you on speaker phone.”
Nessa watched Jankowski stiffen, noting the wary look that appeared in his eyes at Eden’s name.
Folks around here think a call from Eden Winthrop means trouble’s on the way. That and more bad press.
“Now, slow down, Eden, and tell us what’s happened.”
Nessa laid the phone on her desk. Both she and Jankowski stared at it as Eden’s anxious voice erupted from the speaker.
“Ruth’s the girl I told you about yesterday, the one who couldn’t remember how she’d gotten injured, or how she found Mercy Harbor’s address. Well, she met with Reggie today and was able to remember some of what happened.”
Nessa met Jankowski’s eyes over the phone, seeing that he too was braced for the worst. Eden cleared her throat, her voice turning hoarse as she continued.
“Ruth said she and a friend, a girl she called Candy, were being chased in the swamp. She said whoever was after them caught Candy and they…they killed her.”
Jankowski leaned on the desk with both hands, his voice hard.
“You’re telling us this woman witnessed a homicide?”
Nessa heard Eden’s sharp intake of breath at Jankowski’s blunt question. She threw her partner a disapproving glare, then bent over the desk to grab a pad of paper and a pen.
“Eden, we need to know exactly what Ruth told you. We’re gonna have to investigate, of course. But please remember, the girl could be mistaken. You said yourself she couldn’t remember, that she was upset. Let’s hope this is some sort of misunderstanding.”
“I don’t think so, Nessa.” Eden’s voice was firm. “Reggie has had lots of experience treating traumatized patients. She thinks Ruth is telling the truth. She thinks seeing her friend get killed is likely what caused Ruth to block out the memory and-”
Jankowski interrupted, sounding irritated.
“We won’t know anything for sure until we investigate. Can Ruth…what’s her last name?”
“Culvert,” Eden offered. “It’s Ruth Culvert.”
Nessa scribbled down the name.
“Well, can Ms. Culvert come down and give us a statement?”
“She was hysterical,” Eden snapped back, her tone heating up at the impatience in his voice. “Reggie had to sedate her. She’ll likely be out most of the night.”
Nessa winced. If Ruth’s friend had been hurt, or even killed, every minute would count. And she knew firsthand that if there really was a body out there in the swamp, the wildlife would quickly destroy any evidence.
“Eden, what can you or Reggie tell us?” Nessa asked, gesturing for Jankowski to stay quiet. “What information did Ruth provide that you can pass on? I don’t think we can afford to wait until tomorrow to look into this.”
“Well, the mailman who brought Ruth to Mercy Harbor said he found her off of Highway 42 past I-75.”
Nessa nodded, taking notes on the pad.
“And Ruth said she and Candy had gotten lost in the swamp and ended up at a closed gas station near the preserve.”
“Did she give any other details about the gas station?”
“Well, Ruth said there was a snake.” Eden sounded unsure. “She told Reggie she’d seen a snake on a sign over the gas station.”
Jankowski leaned over the phone again.
“She saw a snake hanging on a sign? Did he give her directions?”
The sarcasm in his voice earned another glare from Nessa, and this time she scooped up her phone, turned off the speaker, and turned her back on Jankowski.
“Sorry about that, Eden. I think that’s enough for me and Jankowski to go on for now. We’ll take a drive out that way and see what we can find.”
“Thank you, Nessa. Please let me know…whatever you find.”
The gratitude in Eden’s voice produced a guilty flush on Nessa’s face. While she and Jankowski could drive out to the area and look around, it was unlikely the two of them would be able to find anything in the thousands of acres of wetlands that made up the Cottonmouth Preserve.
“I will, Eden. And I’ll also come by to check on Ruth later. We’ll need a statement from her as soon as possible. Without a reliable eyewitness account, it’ll be hard to get more resources assigned to the case. It’s a big swamp out there, you know. It’ll be hard to find anything without an organized search party.”
“I understand,” Eden said, her voice somber. “But, Ruth seems to believe she’s still in danger, so please, do whatever you can.”
✽ ✽ ✽
Nessa turned on the heater in her Charger, holding a numb hand in front of the vent as she sped down I-75.
“It wasn’t this cold last December,” she muttered toward Jankowski, who was studying a map on his laptop as they hurtled along. “I took the boys to the beach on Christmas Day. They still had sunburns on New Year’s Eve.”
When Jankowski just grunted instead of replying, she looked over.
“You find anything interesting yet?’
More silence. Finally, Jankowski raised his head and pointed to a sign on the side of the road.
“Follow those signs to the Cottonmouth Preserve. They’ll take you to Highway 42 which runs parallel to the preserve.”
He looked down at the computer again, clicking on a message in his inbox. He drummed his fingers on the dashboard as he read the message.
“Shit.” He snapped the laptop closed. “There’s no record of a Ruth Culvert in any of the databases. According to the State of Florida, she doesn’t exist.”
Nessa shrugged, keeping her eyes on the road ahead. A trio of
semi-trucks had formed a convoy, slowing traffic.
“I’m not surprised. Lots of folks in the backwoods keep to themselves. It was like that in Georgia, too.”
“I thought that accent of yours was fake. I didn’t know you really are a…a…”
Nessa smiled, glad to finally see a flush spread over Jankowski’s handsome face. Maybe there was a trace of shame left in his brawny body after all.
“I think the word you’re looking for is red-neck.”
Jankowski shook his head, a wicked gleam lighting up his eyes.
“No, I was thinking more along the line of hillbilly.”
Nessa scowled at her partner, but she was glad to see him smiling again. He’d had a hard year. First his wife had cheated on him, leading to a bitter divorce, and then Chief Kramer’s crimes had been exposed, causing Jankowski to question everything he’d been taught during his dozen years on the force.
The ping of an incoming text message erased Jankowski’s grin.
“Gabby,” he muttered. “Again.”
Nessa stared straight ahead. She knew better than to get involved in Jankowski’s love life. The slightest comment could set him off. They both needed to stay focused on the task at hand.
“Take the exit,” Jankowski growled, pointing to a sign overhead.
“Yes, boss,” Nessa said, rolling her eyes as she steered the big car off the interstate and onto Highway 42.
The rural road was in visible need of repair, and Nessa felt the Charger’s right tire bounce over a sizable pothole. An oncoming car swished past them, retreating quickly in the rearview mirror, leaving the road empty as far as the eye could see.
“It’s creepy out here,” Nessa said, more to herself than Jankowski, who was staring sullenly at the passing scenery.
Dense clusters of trees lined the road, making it impossible to see past the towering tree line. The sun reflected off the water around the thick, gray roots of the cypress trees, hinting at the wetlands just beyond. They’d driven for another fifteen minutes before Nessa spotted a faded road sign: Cottonmouth Gas and Snacks – Next Exit.
“You see that sign?”
Jankowski nodded, turning to Nessa.
“Yeah, I saw it, but I don’t see an exit yet.”
Nessa squinted at the road ahead, waiting for the exit sign to appear. Jankowski thumbed his phone, accessing a map app and searching for nearby gas stations.
“Nothing’s showing for Cottonmouth Gas on the map. In fact, it looks like there’s nothing else on this road until we pass the welcome center, which is another five miles.”
Craning her neck to see Jankowski’s phone, Nessa let the Charger drift to the left, earning a blaring honk from a big, black pickup truck hurtling past them in the opposite lane. She glared back at the driver in her side mirror.
I wasn’t even over the line and there he is making a fuss.
As the truck sped out of sight, something glinted in the mirror. They’d passed a sign nearly hidden by an overgrowth of vegetation. Nessa lowered her foot on the brake and pulled to the side of the road.
“What the hell are you stopping for?”
Jankowski looked up from his phone just as Nessa maneuvered the car into a wide U-turn and drove back toward the sign. He followed her eyes to the now-obvious dirt road that led off the highway.
Guiding the car slowly onto the overgrown road, Nessa could see glimpses of a building beyond the army of sable palms lining the shoulder. Within seconds the Charger stopped in front of a boarded-up gas station which stood abandoned about fifty yards off the highway.
Jankowski pointed to the lopsided sign hanging from one rusty chain. The faded outline of a coiled snake was still visible, although the lettering on the sign was hard to make out.
“I think it says Cottonmouth Filling Station,” Nessa murmured, uneasily peering into the woods around them. “I guess we’d better look around.”
A loud rustling from the bushes startled Nessa as soon as she’d stepped out of the car. Her hand instinctively reached for the gun in her holster, then fell to her side as an enormous racoon trundled into the clearing, passing Nessa without a sideways glance.
“You aren’t scared of ‘coons are you, Ellie May?” Jankowski teased. “I thought you’d feel right at home out here.”
“Shut up, Jankowski.” Nessa walked toward the front of the station, her eyes scanning the boarded-up windows and doors. “We’re looking for a possible victim, remember?”
She saw him freeze beside her, turning to see him hold a finger up to his lips.
“Shh!” he whispered, gesturing ahead toward a dirty expanse of ground. “Footprints.”
Nessa looked down. Several sets of footprints in the mud led around the old building. Once again she reached for her gun, but this time she pulled it out and held it in front of her with both hands, following Jankowski as he crept toward the back of the station.
Catching sight of a thick pool of dried blood on the grass several yards away, Nessa’s eyes followed a trail of blood drops leading toward the rear of the building.
“Over there,” Nessa whispered, pointing her gun toward the restrooms. “I think someone’s in there.”
Jankowski was already advancing on the doorway to the men’s room. He pointed his gun through the door, arms extended, then took a quick glance inside. Looking back at Nessa, he shook his head, before stepping fully inside and taking a good look around. When he emerged he nodded, giving a silent thumbs-up.
Inhaling deeply, Nessa turned to the women’s room. She held her weapon in front of her with steady hands despite the pounding of her heart. Standing beside the doorway, she peeked in quickly, noting at once that no one was in the room.
As she entered the little room, she noticed a pile of material had been thrown in the corner, along with a long coil of something else. It took Nessa a minute to realize she was staring at a snake. Or at least what was left of one. She hurried outside.
“All clear,” she said, her voice quiet but shaking. “At least, all clear of humans, but there’s something reptilian in there.”
Jankowski brushed past her, his big shoulders blocking the entrance as he surveyed the room.
“Snakeskin,” he said, crossing to the corner and bending to pick it up. “It’s a diamondback rattler. Big one, too. Gotta be six foot.”
He held the skin up to show Nessa it was almost as long as he was, but her eyes were glued to a narrow door in the back wall. A smudge of red on the doorframe had caught her eye. Jankowski followed her gaze, then stepped closer to examine the mark.
“Looks like a bloody handprint, or at least a partial print.”
Jankowski’s voice was a grim whisper. He met Nessa’s eyes, then held up his hand, silently counting down with his fingers.
Five, four, three, two, one.
Wrenching the door open, Jankowski pointed his gun into the utility closet, every muscle in his body tense and ready to fight.
A foul stench emanated from within, sending Jankowski stumbling backward. Nessa gagged, then lifted her hand to cover her mouth and nose. She approached the open door cautiously, already knowing from the horribly familiar smell what she was going to find.
The girl’s body hung from a hook mounted on the closet wall. Her simple dress was covered in an apron of blood. Nessa raised her eyes to the poor girl’s face. She gasped, turning away in horror as she saw the word that had been carved into the dead girl’s forehead.
She felt Jankowski beside her, heard his sharp intake of breath.
“What’s it say?” he asked.
Nessa’s voice caught in her throat as she choked out the name.
“Jezebel.”
Chapter Fifteen
The fireplace danced with flames, warming Eden’s living room against the cold snap that had deepened overnight. The floor was strewn with rolls of brightly colored giftwrap, silky bows, and tags adorned with snowmen, reindeer, and Christmas trees. A stack of presents for Hope and Devon teetered on the sofa,
waiting to be wrapped.
“You don’t think I’m spoiling the kids, do you, Duke?”
Duke stared at her from his position in front of the fireplace, the light from the flames reflecting in his big brown eye and warming his golden fur. Eden sighed, then turned to eye the gifts she’d ordered online the previous weekend, too anxious to enjoy the cozy scene she’d set in an effort to get her mind off Ruth.
Even the Christmas classics on the radio hadn’t managed to lift her sprits. She grimaced as a Channel Ten weather bulletin interrupted Bing Crosby singing White Christmas.
“Temperatures are expected to drop below freezing tonight while local farmers scramble to save the citrus-”
The buzzing of Eden’s phone drowned out weathergirl Veronica Lee’s grim forecast. Switching off the radio, Eden’s pulse quickened as she noted the caller’s number on the display.
“Nessa? What did you find?”
A momentary silence was followed by Nessa’s ragged voice.
“We found a girl’s body. She’d been…killed. We’re still waiting for the crime scene techs and the medical examiner, but there’s no doubt that this is a homicide.”
The words confirmed Eden’s fear with a sickening finality. She’d known deep down that Ruth had been telling the truth but had held on to a fragile hope that the young woman had been mistaken.
No more hope now. Just more death…and another monster out there killing innocent women.
Eden gripped the phone to her ear and cleared her throat.
“So, what do I tell Ruth?”
“Actually, I’m more interested in what Ruth can tell us right now,” Nessa said. “We need to talk to her as soon as possible…get a formal statement. At this stage she’s the only one who knows what happened, and until we find out more, she’ll be considered a person of interest.”
Eden gasped.
“A person of interest? You mean, like, a suspect?”
“I mean a person of interest. And a possible witness, of course.”
The implications of Nessa’s words stunned Eden into silence. Her mind spun with the possibilities.
Is Ruth a reliable witness? Could she have something to do with the murder? Could she have blocked the memory because she knew the killer, or…she killed the girl herself?
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