but almost lost control and went skidding over the ravine.
A loud roaring rent the air, and suddenly a pine limb was falling through the air, straight at his windshield.
Derrick swerved to avoid it, but the branch struck the passenger side of his car, shattered the window and sent him skidding. A second later, metal crunched and glass sprayed him as the car flipped onto its side.
One Hundred Forty-One
Somewhere on the AT
“It’s almost a shame to end this with you,” Burton said to Ellie. “It’s been so much fun watching you chase your tail and fail.”
Ellie’s body ached from the beating he’d given her, but she stifled her emotions. No time for self-pity. She had to get away from him, go back and get Shondra’s body out of that house. Her friend deserved a proper burial.
He dragged her through thorn bushes, poison oak and past a barbed wire fence that tore at her clothing, then down a hill behind the old house. Smoke billowed in the air in thick rolling waves of gray, and flames shot toward the dark sky.
Dried brush crackled and twigs snapped, the damp moss adding to the smoke.
The tornado was almost on top of them, the wind making him sway on his feet, almost tumbling down the hill. She clawed at his leg to trip him, but he kicked her hard and she collapsed.
Glaring down at her, he laughed. “Do you know where I’ve chosen to leave you?”
She shook her head. “Tell me, Hugh. I want to hear everything. Tell me why you chose the rhymes.”
“Well,” he said, his eyes hollow black holes, “my mama used to say that rhyme to me all the time. She’d point out all the girls and talk about how good they were. But Daddy told me the truth. They weren’t what they seemed at all. Just like you aren’t, and all the other women I picked to die.”
“Was your daddy mean to you?” she asked. “Are you one of those poor little boys who could never live up to Daddy’s expectations? Did he beat you or lock you in the closet or starve you like those crooks do to turn dogs into fighters?”
Gripping her chin with one hand, Burton squeezed so hard that she thought her jaw might crack.
“My daddy was a real man. And no, he didn’t beat me. But he made sure my mama knew her place.”
“So she was helpless,” Ellie said. “And you watched.”
Burton chuckled. “He had to teach me to be a man. That’s what fathers do. Now you’re going to be laid on the daffodils, because unlike Sunday’s child, who is bonny and gay, you’re ugly and cold. You and your stubborn pride. You’d let your own mother die before you’d forgive her.”
Hurt swelled inside her, but an image of Vera lying helpless in bed, hooked to machines that were keeping her alive, taunted her.
“Good fathers don’t beat their wives or children. They’re loving and kind and lead by example,” she said, pushing aside the thought.
“Like your daddy?”
Ellie pressed her lips together to keep from spitting at him. “What would your mother say about you now? Would she be proud of the man you’ve become?”
“My mother was nothing but a bitch. She left me with him,” he snapped. “Walked out on us one day––her own husband and son. And when my father went after her, punishing her like she deserved, she killed him. Just like Cathy walked out on me and killed my little girl. Just like you killed my baby girl. And you expect me to like women? You all deserve to die.”
A tree branch splintered, crashing in their path. Dodging it, he dragged her toward an old well.
“The well is underground, the devil’s underbelly,” he murmured. “It’s the closest thing to Satan and the furthest place from heaven. That’s where you’ll spend eternity. Unfortunately for you, no one will ever find your body out here.”
Fear coursed through her. He was right.
With his thumb under her chin, he tilted her head up. “Maybe I won’t cut your throat after all. Maybe I’ll just put you down there and let you rot.”
Keeping a firm grip on the chain, he thrust her toward the edge of the well. Then he opened his duffel bag. A bag of daffodils, the petals browning, sat inside, along with a vine of bramble.
“Why the daffodils?” Ellie asked.
Pure evil raged in his eyes. “Because they’re the flower of the underworld and that’s where you and Cathy belong.”
The sharp blade of a knife