“He used that personal information to make her doubt everyone she knew and to frame me,” Cord said gruffly.
Derrick nodded. The ranger had a right to be pissed and walk right out. Instead, he pulled a wall map down for them to study.
Meanwhile, Deputy Landrum looked up from his computer. “I’ve found an air strip near an old abandoned farm east of here. It’s not far from the one where you found that hair. Looks like the farm once belonged to his dead wife’s parents. And that air strip was once used for crop dusting planes but hasn’t been used in years.”
“That’s it,” Derrick said. “That’s where he’d take the victims.”
The deputy gave Cord the coordinates. “We should divide up. I’ll mark off search quadrants so we can cover more territory.”
Derrick’s gaze met his. When this was over, he owed McClain an apology. But now they had to act quickly.
“I’ll get my people to send a chopper so we have an aerial view,” Derrick said. “I’ll head to the farmhouse—he might be using it as home base. Sheriff?”
Bryce squared his shoulders. “My deputies will search north of the farm, in case he took them into the woods.”
“My guys can search the east,” Captain Hale said. “McClain and I will head west.”
Derrick clapped his hands. “Let’s get to it. The weather is getting wild out there. Shondra may be Saturday’s child, but we have to save Ellie before she becomes Sunday’s.”
One Hundred Thirty-Nine
Somewhere on the AT
As Burton dragged Ellie up the stairs, she felt like she was being led to execution.
Upstairs, he forced her to crawl across the cold linoleum floor. It smelled like a dead animal in here. Like urine and mold and… and the gruesome scent of death from the cages below. Muttering the rhyme in a crazy voice, he threw a duffel back over his shoulder, then forced her through the back door. Wind slapped the screen back against the doorframe as he dragged her outside, down four cement steps.
Tugging her to a standing position, still pulling her with the chain, Burton shoved her towards the woods. With the gray stormy skies, it seemed dark, the wind hurling dirt and leaves around them.
The tornado they’d talked about on the weather. It was coming their way.
As Burton chained her to a metal fence, Ellie realized they were on some kind of farm. An old barn sat to the right with pens that could have been used for pigs or chickens. She heard a dog yelping and realized their theory about him training dogs was on target.
Pure raw hatred churned through her as she watched him gather sticks, piling them at the door of the house and all around the outside.
“Ellie’s going to die today, Ellie’s going to die. And they will never find me,” he muttered. “Die, die, die, Ellie. And no one will ever find you.”
Realizing with horror what he planned to do, she struggled with the collar around her neck, yanking and twisting, desperate to free herself. She could see a funnel cloud in the distance, the trees rocking in the wind.
Burton grabbed a gas can and began to spread gasoline all around the edge of the house, dousing the sticks and steps to the porch.
“No!” Ellie cried, knowing that Shondra was still inside.
His laugh punctuated the air as he stepped back, lit a match and tossed it onto the pile. One match after another.
Terror assaulted her as the flames began to spark and spread.
Then he snatched the duffel bag, threw it over his shoulder and returned to unchain her from the fence. She fought, digging in her heels, to try to go back to Shondra. But it was useless. He hauled her into the forest behind the house, and she knew her time was running out.
One Hundred Forty
North Georgia
Derrick swerved onto the shoulder of the road to dodge a tree branch that crashed down, speeding toward the farm. Black clouds raged in the sky, and fierce winds careened through the woods.
The wind beat at the car, knocking him sideways, as if it might lift his vehicle and send it sailing through the air. Clenching the steering wheel, he pulled it back onto the road away from the rocky mountain wall.
Ahead, above the jagged peaks, he saw the clouds spinning and realized he was heading into the eye of the storm. There was no way a chopper could fly overhead now. It was too dangerous.
Praying he wasn’t too late, he flew around a curve,