The angel’s voice echoed in the mountain wind as he knelt and traced a finger over her tombstone. But the devil’s sinister laughter rose above it. The devil had won. He had snatched her life before she even had a chance to live it.
Images of the dead children that had been found along the Appalachian Trail three weeks ago flashed behind his eyes. Their killer was in prison. But where was the justice? It didn’t bring the little girls back.
His heart aching, he dropped tiny wildflowers over the small mound. Although lilies marked the front entrance of the graveyard, purple was her favorite color. She liked purple popsicles and purple headbands and her purple comforter. He pictured her smiling at him as he read her bedtime stories, mimicking the animal noises in the tales. She would giggle as he tickled her belly.
He’d grown up seeing the worst in life. He’d been beaten, taught to make the weak ones suffer. To make the women obey. To punish them.
Then she had come along.
He’d never thought he had a soft bone in his evil body. That he could care about anyone as much as he cared about her. And he’d tried his damnedest to save her.
But he’d failed.
No one knew the truth about what had happened. And if he told them, they wouldn’t believe him.
Anger made him cold inside, cold all over. She shouldn’t be dead. But she was gone. And it was time to make someone pay for it.
One
Friday
Crooked Creek, Georgia
“How does it feel to know your parents covered for a serial killer?”
Detective Ellie Reeves shifted restlessly in her seat. That was a loaded question and one she didn’t know how to answer. Not to the local press or to this therapist.
Not even to herself.
Nervous energy made her tap her foot on the wood floor of the counselor’s office. She’d resisted seeing a shrink since her life had fallen apart three weeks ago, just as she’d resisted a tell-all with the press. They were already having a field day torching her parents for what they’d done.
She couldn’t blame them either.
The therapist, a slender woman with a chin-length brown bob named Kennedy Sledge, cleared her throat.
“Take your time and tell me what happened,” she said softly.
Ellie stared at her fingernails where she’d chewed them down to the nubs.
“I know you saw the news. A little girl named Penny Matthews went missing a few weeks ago. While looking for her, I learned she was part of a serial killer’s pattern that went back two decades. They called him the Ghost. He lured his victims, all young girls, with small wooden dolls he carved.”
“Yes, I saw the news.” The counselor nodded encouragement. “But you saved and rescued Penny and another child that was taken.”
Ellie nodded, taking some comfort in the fact that the little girls were back with their families. She’d thought once that case was solved Crooked Creek would return to normal, hosting small-town festivals, porch sitting and potluck dinners.
“Ellie?” the therapist prompted when the silence stretched between them.
Ellie took a deep breath. “I discovered that the man who took them was my mother’s illegitimate son, who she gave up for adoption ten years before I was born. Mom was only a teenager when she got pregnant. Her parents, especially her father, insisted the baby, Hiram, would be better off in a home with two parents.” Now that she’d started talking, the words spewed from her. “Although Mom thought he was in a happy family, she felt guilty about giving him up. So she adopted me when I was three.”
Kennedy drummed two fingers on her desk, and Ellie noticed a tiny scar on her wrist. “So you are not blood related to Hiram?”
Ellie shook her head. “No, but that hasn’t been made public knowledge yet. When Hiram was fourteen, he found out about me. He hated my mother, Vera. But most of all he resented me for taking her away from him.”
“But you didn’t take her away from him, Ellie.”
Perspiration beaded on Ellie’s forehead and she wiped it away with a shaky hand. “No, but he believed I did. Anyway, to cut a long story short. When I was five, he lured me into the woods and left me trapped in a cave. When my father found me, and I told him the boy’s name was Hiram, my parents moved us to Stony Gap and changed our names.” Her stomach churned. “Then Hiram started taking other little girls. He killed them because he…