Thoughts of the girl in the back of the van, and the family that would never see her alive again, prompted Iris to push her foot down harder on the gas pedal.
She needed to get the police her results as quickly as possible. They’d all need to work quickly if they hoped to find the person capable of such a vicious attack.
Chapter Seventeen
The sky outside her window was dark; the day having faded away while she’d slept. Ruth lay in bed staring out at the night, wondering where she was and how long she’d been asleep. The last thing she could remember was Reggie Horn’s worried eyes and soft words.
Sleep now, Ruth. Everything will seem better once you get some sleep.
But everything wasn’t better. Ruth knew that now. When she’d arrived at Mercy Harbor she couldn’t remember what had happened the night she and Candy ran away. But the terrible truth had come crashing back during her session with Reggie, and now, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get the image of Candy’s ruined face out of her mind.
Voices in the hall startled Ruth. She wasn’t ready to face anyone yet. She didn’t want to answer all their questions. Closing her eyes, she forced herself to take in a long, slow breath, then release it.
“Ruth?” Reggie’s voice sounded outside the door along with a quiet knock. “Ruth, are you awake?”
The door opened, but Ruth kept her eyes closed, her body limp.
“Let her sleep, Reggie.”
Eden’s soft words sounded sad, and Ruth was tempted to sit up and reassure her that she was okay. She been so nice to her, but Ruth just wanted to be left alone.
“The police want to talk to her,” Reggie said, “and they won’t be happy about waiting until tomorrow when they have a dead body on their hands.”
Ruth’s heart stopped.
So, the police have found Candy. It really wasn’t just a bad dream.
Tears pooled in Ruth’s eyes as she thought of her friend. Poor Candy had been so scared at the end. She’d just wanted to get away from the trouble she’d gotten herself into at the compound, but it had all gone so terribly wrong. A surge of fear passed through Ruth at the thought of the man who’d caused the trouble, and the man who’d chased her through the swamp.
If I tell on them, will they come looking for me? Will I be next?
Her thoughts turned to the dark figure in the swamp: the person who had killed Candy. Ruth could picture the hood, and the terrible motion of the arm raising up and down, stabbing over and over again.
Was it him? Was he the one who killed Candy? Or was it someone else?
She shook her head, frustrated. She couldn’t be sure. It had been dark, and she’d been so upset.
“Come on,” Eden whispered. “We’ll check on her first thing in the morning. Nessa will just have to understand.”
Ruth waited until the door had closed behind the two women before sitting up. Pulling the blanket around her shoulders, she slipped out of bed and crossed to the window. The moon shone bright in the clear sky, adding an eerie glow to the lawn and the riverbank beyond.
It’ll be a full moon tomorrow night.
She leaned her forehead against the windowpane, liking the cold feel of the glass against her warm skin. A sudden rap on the window made her jump. She’d fallen asleep.
Looking around in confusion, Ruth saw a figure standing outside her window. She opened her mouth to scream, then recognized the familiar face that stared back at her. Her hands shook as she released the latch and pushed open the window.
“What are you doing here?” Ruth whispered, looking over her shoulder, sure that Eden or Reggie would be standing behind her along with the police. “You won’t believe what happened. Someone killed Sister Candace.”
“I know,” the woman said, smiling sadly. “That’s why I came to help you. You need to be with your family now, not with these strangers.”
Ruth hesitated, confused.
“But how did you know I was here?”
The woman shook her head and laughed.
“Always so many questions, Sister Ruth. You must have faith. We don’t have time to talk now. We have to go.”
“Go where?” Ruth asked. “I don’t want to go back to the compound. Not with-”
The woman put a finger to her lips.
“Shh, no need to talk now. I’ve taken care of everything, but we have to leave. You aren’t safe here.”
When Ruth hesitated the woman shrugged, stepping back.
“I can’t force you to come with me,” she said, looking around nervously. “But they know you’re here. They’ll come for you, too.”
Ruth watched as the woman turned toward the river, her breath a cloud of white in the dark night.
“Wait,” she called. “Let me get my shoes on.”
The woman paused, then turned and hurried back to the window. She offered a hand to steady Ruth as the slim girl slid outside and jumped to the ground.
“I see the strangers have already given you new clothes,” the woman said, eyeing Ruth’s jeans with disapproval. “What else have they given you?”
“They’ve been really nice,” Ruth insisted, already regretting the worry she’d cause Eden and Reggie when they discovered her gone.
The woman grabbed Ruth’s hand and pulled her toward the river.
“What have you told them?”
The words were accusing, and Ruth drew her hand away, suddenly unsure about what she was doing.
“I didn’t tell them anything.” Ruth’s voice was defiant. “But maybe I should have.”
The woman turned and raised her arm, and Ruth cringed, holding up a hand defensively, reminded of the figure in the swamp and the arm that had been raised again and again over Candy’s body.
But when Ruth looked up she saw that the woman was signaling to a figure standing behind a cluster of trees. Ruth’s eyes widened as the man approached.
“No…no…it can’t be…”
She turned to run but the woman was right behind her. She grabbed Ruth’s arm and pulled her close.
“You betrayed the congregation, Sister Ruth. You turned your back on everyone who trusted you. I can’t allow that.”
“You can’t allow that?” Ruth asked, her voice incredulous. “Who are you to tell me what I’m allowed to do?”
A malicious smile spread across the woman’s face, and Ruth saw a flash of silver. She looked down to see a knife gripped in the woman’s hand.
“I’m the angel of death, Sister Ruth. And I’m here for you.”
Chapter Eighteen
The sounds and smells of the commune’s early morning activity penetrated the small room off the kitchen where Eli Dunkel lay sleeping. He lifted his head, felt a wave of dizziness wash over him, then dropped back onto the pillow. The smell of frying eggs and burnt toast made his stomach clench, and he struggled not to retch.
What’s the matter with me? Feels like I’ve been hit by a bus.
He sat up slowly, his head pounding. squinting against the sliver of morning sun shining through the little window over his bed. The window had been left open, letting in a draft of cold air.
Looking down at his bare chest in confusion, he saw four long, red scratches that started at his shoulder and ended just above the waist band of his jeans. He lifted a finger to trace the marks and saw cuts on his hands. Pain shot up his arm as he tightened his hand into a fist.
So, it wasn’t a nightmare. It really happened. Again.
A pile of clothes had been thrown over the straight-backed chair in the corner, and Eli hefted himself off the bed and shuffled toward it, wincing at the shock of the icy tiles on his bare feet. He looked down, expecting his feet to be coated with the muddy remains of his nighttime trek through the swamp. His jeans were filthy, but his feet were clean.
Angel must have washed me up before she left me here.
Details of the previous night’s events were slowly coming back to him, although everything after dinner seemed more like a bad dream than a memo
ry.
He shook his head as he buttoned up his shirt, trying to chase the image of the girl from his mind. Angel had warned him not to think about Ruth anymore. She had betrayed them all and didn’t deserve to come back to the commune.
Angel’s stern voice played in his head over and over again.
God’s will must be done, Eli. It isn’t our place to question Him.
Of course, that was what she always said when she wanted him to do something he didn’t want to do, and he never could resist her.
She’s an angel after all, isn’t she?
He thought of her stony face, grim and determined, but eerily calm as they’d walked home through the woods after the bloody night. The memory of the blood made him feel sick again, and this time he couldn’t stop his stomach from heaving up its contents.
He spat bitter mouthfuls of bile into a trash can by the door, then looked around for a tissue. He dug his hand into the pocket of his jeans, coming up empty.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then froze.
Where’s the piece of paper?
He stuck his hand back into his pocket, digging around even though he could feel that it wasn’t there.
After checking his other pockets, he searched through the sheets on the bed and examined the floor, even dropping to his knees and looking under the bed.
The blood-stained piece of paper he’d taken out of Sister Candace's lifeless fingers two nights before was gone. He’d had it with him last night. Had gone to the address listed for Mercy Harbor. From there he’d only had to wait for Eden Winthrop to come out and lead him to the shelter, and to Ruth.
It had all gone more smoothly than he could have hoped. But now the paper was gone, perhaps dropped at the scene.
He looked down at his battered hands.
And my fingerprints and blood are probably all over it.
Dread settled over him at the thought of what Angel would say if she found out he’d left evidence behind. It may be God’s will that they were carrying out, but he doubted the police would care.
As Angel had told him before, the police and everyone else outside the commune were against them. All it would take was one stupid mistake and they’d rush in and shut the place down.
CSL will be closed, and I’ll be back in the pen for good this time.
Eli thought about the promise he’d made to himself when he’d gotten out of prison. The promise that he’d go straight, and that he’d never go back. And he’d arrived at CSL determined to live a good life.
But that was before Father Jed had died, and before Jacob had been led astray. Wickedness had seeped into the commune, and then Angel had come to him, saying she’d had a vision: Eli had been chosen to be the instrument of God, and it was up to them to save the congregation from ruin.
Exchanging his stained jeans for a new pair from the cupboard, Eli stuffed his feet into his work boots, and glanced out the window, tempted to run back to the river and search for the paper. But no, it was too late, the sun had risen, and the compound was already bustling with activity. He’d have to have faith that Angel was right: they were on the side of the righteous and good fortune would follow.
A graceful figure crossing the courtyard caught Eli’s eye. He watched as Sister Marie stopped in front of the barn to talk to Tobias Putnam. She looked up at the older man with a shy smile, and Eli felt a pang of fear.
“Whatever happens, I can’t let the police find out what I’ve done, cause if they do, I’ll never see Sister Marie again.”
Chapter Nineteen
The line of cars leading onto the East Willow Bridge were at a standstill. Nessa strained her neck, trying to see around the minivan in front of her. A few drivers honked. After several minutes of idling a pregnant woman in the Chevy pickup next to Nessa climbed into the bed of her truck and stared out over the traffic toward the bridge.
She looked over at Nessa and called out, “Looks like there may be an accident, although I don’t see any cars banged up. But there’s a police car…lights flashing.”
Nessa hadn’t heard anything that morning about an accident on her police radio, but then she’d been preoccupied, wondering how she was ever going to find time to go Christmas shopping for Cole and Cooper when she was lead detective on a murder investigation.
I guess getting up at the crack of dawn didn’t make a bit of difference.
She’d hoped getting on the road early would give her a head start on the day. She hadn’t counted on the traffic jam ahead.
Unwilling to wait any longer, Nessa activated the bar of emergency lights on the Charger’s dashboard, pulled onto the shoulder of the road, and began bouncing past the row of cars. She followed the flashing lights to a WBPD cruiser parked on the grassy slope next to the bridge. Someone called out to her as she climbed out of the car.
“Over here, Detective!”
Nessa pulled on a police-issued windbreaker as she turned to see Officer Dave Eddings emerging from the shadows of the bridge’s bulky concrete abutment. His face was pale as he strode toward her, his eyes wide beneath a dark WBPD cap. Despite the near-freezing temperature beads of sweat trickled down the young officer’s face.
“What’s going on, Dave?”
Eddings opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, swallowing hard. Nessa thought his expression would have been comical if it wasn’t so disturbingly similar to the one she’d worn the day before when she’d found Candace Newbury’s body.
“It’s okay, Dave. Take a deep breath and tell me what’s happened.”
Pointing down the grassy slope toward the water, his chest heaving in and out, he fought for a breath of air.
“You found something…someone…in the river?”
Nessa felt her pulse quicken at the thought of finding another body in the water.
It couldn’t happen again, could it? Not so soon after the last time?
She often thought about the dead girls they’d found in the Willow River the previous summer; they made regular appearances in her nightmares.
When Eddings shook his head vigorously back and forth, Nessa sighed, relieved and suddenly impatient to find out what was going on. She needed to get to the Mercy Harbor shelter downtown, had hoped to beat Jankowski there.
I promised Eden I’d be there when we question Ruth Culvert.
And after they talked to Ruth, she and Jankowski would have to rush to the medical examiner’s office. Iris had agreed to wait for them before she began Candace Newbury’s autopsy. It was going to be a busy day and this unexpected interruption threatened Nessa’s carefully planned schedule.
“So, then, what is it, Dave?” Nessa asked, her voice brisk. “Your cruiser’s blocking traffic. There’s about a mile back-up into town.”
“Not in the river…” Eddings choked out. “She’s under the bridge.”
Nessa froze at his words. Her mind suddenly thick and heavy.
“She?” Nessa asked, grabbing the arm of his bomber jacket. “What do you mean she’s under the bridge?”
Eddings turned and pointed to the water again. Nessa’s eyes followed his arm toward the shadows that hid the bank of the river and the pier beyond.
Forcing her feet to move, she walked down the slope, the air growing colder as she approached the river’s edge. The bright morning sunlight faded into the gloom under the bridge and she blinked, waiting for her eyes to adjust.
The gurgling of the river accompanied a faint creak, creak, creak, producing a disturbing melody that raised the hair on Nessa’s arms. She stumbled forward and lifted her face to stare toward the sound.
The frail body of a young woman hung suspended over the water.
Nessa took a step back, stumbling on the uneven ground, fighting her instinct to turn away from the terrible sight. She put her hand on her holster and drew out her Glock, keeping a tight grip on the cold steel of the gun as her eyes searched the dark crevices for possible hiding places.
Someone had killed the girl, that much was
obvious. Her hands were tied behind her back with the same thick rope that formed a noose around her neck. That alone made Nessa decide suicide was unlikely, but the bloody letters carved into the girl’s pale forehead left no room for doubt.
JUDAS
Nessa could hear shouts from the top of the bridge. The crowds would be gathering up there; the news would spread quickly. They’d managed to keep the discovery of Candace’s body under the radar for the time being, but there would be no hiding this from the public while they figured out what happened. A woman had been found hanging from a busy bridge. Someone had committed murder, someone that may still be nearby.
A heavy hand on Nessa’s shoulder startled her. She twisted around, Glock still in her hand, a scream hovering in her throat.
“Holy shit.”
Jankowski stared past Nessa, not seeing the look of terror on her face or the big gun in her hand. His eyes were on the broken girl, his face stricken.
“It can’t be her…. can it?”
Nessa shook her head, confused.
“What do you mean? Her who?”
She looked back, noting for the first time the way the girl’s red hair contrasted with her snow-white skin. Eden Winthrop’s words echoed in her head.
…she looks to be about twenty years old. She’s got red hair and brown eyes. Average height, but very slim...
Jankowski put his hand back on her shoulder.
“I just came from Mercy Harbor,” he said, his eyes holding hers. “They went to get Ruth Culvert and found her room empty, her window open. I thought she’d run off, but…”
Nessa closed her eyes, let her head fall forward.
“We were too late, again,” she said, her voice thick. “We didn’t get to her in time to…save her.”
“We did what we could,” Jankowski protested, although his words sounded hollow. “The psycho who did this is to blame, not us.”
Nessa knew he was right, but it didn’t make her feel any better. She pulled up the hood of her windbreaker and began to walk back to her Charger.
“We need to let Iris know what’s happened. She’ll need to be on scene here before she can perform Candace Newbury’s autopsy.”
Catch the Girl Page 12