slathered on her when she’d been stung by a bee and broke out in hives.
Someone had been inside.
Gripping her gun at the ready, she eased inside her hall. The pungent scent assaulted her again, and she shivered as the pitch black swallowed her. For a moment, she forgot to breathe.
Memories of Hiram trapping her in the dark tunnel, and the faces of the terrified little girls he’d kidnapped flooded her. Then the image. She could hear Hiram’s shrill voice, the sound of his knife shaving away wood as he carved the little dolls he’d used to lure her and his other victims to follow him into the forest. He’d promised a pretty pink dollhouse with furniture and doll clothes, but that had all been a lie.
Her body trembled. Nausea climbed her throat.
A noise from the back of the house jarred her from her fear-induced stupor, and she shined her flashlight around the space, scanning the living area and kitchen. After a quick sweep of the hall, she crept to the bedrooms.
The wood floor creaked as she crossed her room, searching her closet and the master bath.
The rooms were empty. Nothing seemed out of place.
Releasing a breath, she relaxed slightly, then made her way back to the living room. In the kitchen, a damp breeze blew through a window which stood wide-open, cold night air filling the room and giving her a chill.
She’d left the window locked, she was sure of that.
Flipping on the light, she gasped. A small wooden doll lay on the kitchen table. It was on top of a bed of daffodils with a river rock tombstone marker at the head of the grave.
On the stone her name was drawn in blood.
Fifty-Five
Thursday
Crooked Creek
The next morning, worry for Shondra dominated Ellie as she and Derrick stopped at the Corner Café for breakfast. She’d barely slept for the nightmares. It had literally taken half the night for the crime team to process her house, and the doll and blood had been sent to the lab.
She and Derrick had theorized while the crime team worked. Could Hiram possibly be behind all this? He’d gotten away with a dozen murders over a twenty-five year span. And if the killer was taunting her because of his hatred of her, it was part of his pathology. The only person Ellie could think of who hated her enough was Hiram.
But how could he orchestrate multiple murders from prison?
Then she’d seen the news, where Bryce had addressed the press. He’d informed them that now they had three victims, but at least he’d kept his mouth shut regarding MO, details they intentionally decided to keep from the media and public in case some lunatic attention-seeker decided to take credit as the Weekday Killer.
She rubbed her aching head, hoping the painkillers would kick in soon. Last night in her dream, the mountain trail was a dumping ground for bodies. Dead women were everywhere. Laid along the paths, deep in the woods, hanging from trees, floating in the river. Bugs and insects feasting on the remains. Just as she left one, she turned and saw another. Sightless eyes stared up at her begging for help, mouths stood wide open in silent screams.
Terrorized cries echoed through the long dark night as she stumbled to escape them.
“You okay?” Derrick asked as they entered the café.
She nodded, although they both knew she was lying. Inside, she spotted Angelica at a table where she was deep in conversation with someone. Always working her story. The strong scent of sausage gravy and homemade biscuits made her mouth water. Lola waved from the counter, and she and Derrick headed to a booth in the back. All eyes and heads turned their way, wary looks passing among the patrons.
Willie Grace, Fanny Mae’s twin and the other half of the Stitchin’ Sisters, pointed a crooked finger at Ellie. “What’s she doing here?”
“She ought to be looking for that killer.”
“Just as sorry as her daddy.”
Ellie gritted her teeth, telling herself to ignore them. But Meddlin’ Maude had the nerve to stand up and block her way. The woman’s hot-pink warm-up suit made her look like a raspberry Popsicle, but there was no sweetness in Maude’s cutting tone. “I hope you do a better job finding this maniac hurting our young women than you did saving all those poor children.”
Edwina Waters, Bryce’s mother, tugged at Maude’s arm. “Come on, Maude. Bryce will find this killer, then our kids and families will be safe again.” She threw a nasty look