Just as Derrick moved toward him, he thought he heard a sound again. A squeaking sound. Or was it scratching?
“Ellie?” he shouted. “Are you in here?”
Quickly glancing around, he realized there was no one else in view. If someone was in the room, they had to be in in one of the caskets. Stowing his gun, he hurried toward a bronzed coffin against the wall. He quickly lifted the lid. Cream-colored lining, gold around the edges. But it was empty. Fear pulsed through him as he raced to the next casket, a dark charcoal one with a silver bracket closing it. Heart hammering, he raised the lid and found ivory satin pillow and lining. No one was inside.
“Ellie!” he yelled as he moved onto another. He jerked it open, expecting to find Ellie. Or… Shondra.
But there was no one.
Rapidly exhaling a breath, he ran to the last one in the corner. Polished nickel.
The shrill sound echoed again and his hand shook as he jerked the lid up.
Ellie lay inside, gasping for a breath, her eyes wide in terror, hands clawing to get out.
Ninety-Five
Ellie screamed and grasped at Derrick to help her out. With the latch broken and the lower half of the casket closed, her legs were trapped. He gently helped her, lifting her free.
Tears trailing down her face, she gulped for air, the claustrophobic darkness finally giving way to light.
“I’ve got you,” Derrick said as he hauled her limp body toward the door and held her. “You’re okay, Ellie. You’re safe now.”
Unable to help herself, she sobbed against him, tremors running through her at the terror of being locked inside.
Derrick carried her into the hall. She blinked back tears, unable to stop trembling.
Her fingers ached where she’d tried to claw her way out, and her nails had broken off, her fingers bleeding from scratching at the interior.
Footsteps echoed behind them, and Cord shuffled into the hall, rubbing the back of his head. “Ellie?” he said in a thick voice. “El?”
“She’s right here,” Derrick replied, his tone harsh. “What happened, Ellie? Did McClain lock you in there?”
Ellie’s head swirled with confusion. One minute she and Cord had been searching the space, then the next, someone had jumped her from behind.
“Ellie?” Derrick asked. “Talk to me. Tell me what happened.”
“I don’t know,” she whispered. Cord wouldn’t have hurt her. Would he?
Footsteps pounded, then another male voice sounded from nearby. “Agent Fox? Ellie?” A second later, Bryce ran into the hall, his gun drawn.
“I found her,” Derrick shouted. “She was assaulted and locked in one of the damn caskets.”
Hurrying toward them, the sheriff’s jaw was set tight as he took in the scene.
“Arrest him,” Derrick ordered, staring at McClain. “I think he attacked Ellie because she got too close to the truth.”
“What?” McClain said, his voice slurred. “No. That’s not true.”
Ellie opened her mouth to argue but she was still struggling to breathe as Bryce handcuffed Cord and hauled him down the hall.
Ninety-Six
Stony Gap
An hour later, after Ellie had been examined by the medics, she and Derrick made it back to the sheriff’s office. Derrick was unable to erase the image of finding Ellie trapped in the casket, panicked, gasping for air.
“I’m telling you, you should be looking for Finton,” Ellie said. “Cord wouldn’t hurt me.”
“We’re issuing an all-points bulletin for him and his son Roy,” the sheriff replied, clearly annoyed at her defense of McClain.
“Let me talk to Cord,” Ellie said.
“He’s in an interrogation room. Stay here, Ellie.” Sheriff Waters disappeared through the double doors that led to the interrogation rooms and holding cells.
After hesitating for a second, clearly recovering from her ordeal, Ellie took off after the sheriff. “I want to watch the interview.”
Dammit to hell, she is stubborn, Derrick thought as he followed her. The first interrogation room was open, so they went to the second and Ellie knocked.
The sheriff opened the door. Cord was already handcuffed and seated at a table, his expression sullen.
“I want to be in there,” Ellie said, trying to push past the sheriff.
“No way,” Bryce said, blocking her entrance. “I know you two are friends. I’ll handle this.”
Cord didn’t even look up.
“I’m going to sit in,” Derrick said, clearing his throat. “I have information that might be helpful.”
Ellie’s face paled as she looked at him, but he couldn’t apologize for doing his job. He was just following the evidence. If McClain had anything to do with the Weekday Killer murders, he had to be stopped.