Wildflower Graves: A totally gripping mystery thriller (Detective Ellie Reeves Book 2) Page 13
The prison guard took half a step forward, and Derrick released Hiram and sat back down before giving the guard an apologetic nod.
“Who said I had a partner?” Hiram asked with another smirk.
Ellie slapped the table with her palm. “Stop playing games, Hiram. Someone buried those children we found, and I think you know who it was.” It was how they’d found the little girls, their bones buried recently on the Appalachian Trail, as if someone wanted them to be found. “If someone helped you, speak up. The media will make you even more famous for cooperating.”
Hiram’s eyes turned menacing as he glared at Ellie. “Whoever dug those graves did it on their own. But this Weekday Killer––I want to meet him when you find him.”
“Not going to happen,” Ellie said.
Hiram chuckled. “Now, Ellie, why don’t you ask me what you really want to know?”
“This is a waste of time. Let’s go, Agent Fox.” Ellie stood, turning away from Hiram.
“You wanna know who you are, don’t you? You and Mommy dearest not so chummy anymore?” Hiram called from his seat as Ellie walked toward the door.
Shooting him a warning look, Ellie hit the buzzer to be let out. Derrick picked up the photographs, stuffing them back in his briefcase and followed Ellie outside while another guard entered to help escort Hiram back to his cell.
When Derrick stepped into the hallway, Ellie was leaning against the wall with her eyes closed, her breathing erratic.
“What was that about?” he asked.
A second later, Ellie opened her eyes, pain lingering in the blue irises. “Nothing.” Spinning around with a sigh, she headed down the hall, leaving him with more questions than answers.
Fifty-Nine
Ellie was shaking as she stormed down the prison hallway. Damn Hiram for bringing up her family in front of Derrick.
Her secrets should be her own to keep. She’d reveal them when she was good and ready.
Retrieving her weapon at the security checkpoint, an instinct to run pulled at her. But running anywhere near a prison with armed guards was a good way to get herself shot.
Walking at a brisk pace, she ignored the way Derrick was watching her as they exited the building and crossed the parking lot.
When she climbed into the car, she sat gripping her phone, wishing like hell that she’d driven and she could punch the gas and speed along the highway to vent her stress.
Derrick started the engine, and passed through the security gate, heading back toward town. A tense silence stretched between them, the air vibrating with the unsaid and her labored breathing.
Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he drove, Derrick’s expression was angry, although she had no clue as to why.
Maybe he’d wanted to stay and push Hiram harder. But she’d sensed Hiram didn’t plan to add any helpful information to the case. He was having too much fun tormenting her.
At odds with her dismal mood, sunlight flickered off the asphalt, creating rainbow-like patterns. Spring flowers that should have been blooming were late due to the freak March snowstorm, yet the dogwoods blossomed and tiny purple buds were beginning to open up on the pear trees that dotted the side of the mountain.
Derrick swung into the parking lot of a convenience store, then turned to face her. “What aren’t you telling me, Ellie?”
She turned to him in shock. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Now you’re flat out lying,” he said, his voice hard. “Angelica knows it, too. That’s why you cut her off. You’re keeping something from me. Either about the Ghost case, or your family, or this case, and I want to know what it is. Don’t let another woman die because you kept secrets like your father did.”
His words stabbed at her heart. “I’ve told you everything I know about the case. I realize seeing Hiram wasn’t easy for you, and it sure as hell wasn’t easy for me, but I did it to find answers.” She crossed her arms. “I’m sorry he refused to cooperate.”
Derrick’s gaze locked with hers for a long moment. “What did he mean––that you want to know who you are? And what did Angelica mean, that you have other secrets?”
Emotions flooded Ellie. The shock of her parents’ deceit still stung so strongly that she blinked back tears. She reached for the door handle, but Derrick gripped her arm. “Did you find evidence against your father that you’re holding back?”
Perspiration trickled down the back of Ellie’s neck. “No…”
“Don’t lie to me, Ellie,” Derrick said. “I deserve to know the truth.”
He didn’t have to remind her how much he’d suffered. That it was her fault his sister was dead.
“I didn’t find evidence, but if I did, I’d turn it over,” she said. “Besides, I haven’t talked to my parents since the arrest.”
“Then what is it? If it’s something that might help with this case, you have to share it. We can’t let this maniac get away.”
“It’s not about the case,” Ellie said finally. “It’s about me.”
“What about you?”
Ellie’s stomach churned. He wasn’t going to give it up. “Vera and Randall are not my birth parents,” she said in a whisper. “They adopted me. That’s the reason he hates me so much.” Her voice cracked. “And the reason he killed Kim.”
Sixty
“The reason he killed Kim?” Derrick asked, running his fingers through his hair.
She nodded, misery on her face. “Vera gave Hiram up for adoption when he was a baby because she was a teenager. Later, she felt guilty and decided to look for him, but she’d signed all rights away and thought he was in a good home. So I was matched with her.”
The remorse in her broken tone made his chest clench. Though he had absolutely zero compassion for Hiram, he understood more now why he’d come after Ellie.
“Does anyone else know?” he asked.
Ellie shook her head. “Angelica wants a tell-all, but I haven’t agreed. And my parents have asked me to keep it between us.”
“So you’re protecting them?” He couldn’t keep the anger from his tone.
“No, it’s just there’s already enough gossip about my family running wild in this town. I needed time to process the truth myself.”
“Secrets have a way of coming out, Ellie. The best thing to do is get out in front of them.”
“Maybe, when this is all over,” she replied, biting down on her bottom lip.
“Have you asked Vera or Randall about your birth parents?”
“They claim they don’t know,” Ellie said. “But how can I believe anything they said after all their lies?”
In spite of the fact that he’d vowed not to touch her again, the pain on her face and the anguish in her voice made him want to reach out to her. For a brief second, he pulled her up against him.
“I’m sorry, Ellie. It’s… not your fault. What he did.”
“It is, though. If Vera hadn’t adopted me, he wouldn’t have killed Kim or any of those other children. They were a substitute for me.”
“You were a child. You were helpless. That’s not your fault.”
He knew what it was like to suffer from guilt.
A person could suffocate beneath the weight.
Her body trembled against him, then she pulled away and released a sigh. “I can’t talk about this right now, especially with you. Let’s just focus on the case. Time may be running out for Shondra.”
Especially you. Her words were like a slap to his face.
Before he could respond, her phone buzzed, and she snatched it. “Yes, Heath, what do you have?”
Ellie’s face paled. When she looked up, fear darkened her eyes.
“There’s a fire at my parents’ house. I need to go there now.”
Sixty-One
Stony Gap
Thirty minutes later, as they sped up the drive, Ellie clenched the seat edge in a white-knuckled grip. Perched on a hill with the towering mountains behind it, her childhood home had
always looked as welcoming as a Norman Rockwell painting.
But now thick plumes of smoke curled into the gray late-morning skies, and orange, red and yellow flames shot upward, raging above the rooftop and trees as the wind fed the blaze.
A Bluff County fire engine screeched ahead of her, brakes squealing as it slammed to a stop near the burning house. Frantically scanning the property for her parents, Ellie didn’t see them anywhere on the lawn.
Derrick barreled to a stop a few feet away from the fire engine, and the sheriff’s car zoomed up the drive. After swerving to park, Bryce threw his car door open just as she slammed her own shut and ran toward the house.
The wind swirled the fire higher into the sky, wood crackling and popping as the ferocious flames ate at the wood frame. The firemen jumped from the truck engine, the captain barking orders as workers rolled out hoses to try to douse the carnage.
Heat seared Ellie’s skin as she approached the house, and the windows exploded, shattering glass everywhere. “Mom? Dad?” Ellie shouted.
“Stay here, miss,” one of the firefighters yelled as she stepped forward. But if her parents were in there, she had to save them.
Ignoring the warning, she ran towards the back of the house to see if the fire had spread there, but Derrick dragged her away as the roof collapsed in a mind-numbing roar.
Shock robbed her breath, and she gasped, coughing as smoke filled her lungs. Derrick hauled her toward a live oak to the side of the house while two of the firemen rushed up the porch steps, using axes to hack away the door and spraying water as they entered. Bryce stood by the fire truck, swiping a hand across his face as he watched the chaos.
Fear clogged Ellie’s throat, paralyzing her. She’d been so angry at her parents the last few weeks she hadn’t spoken to them.
But she didn’t want them to die.
“I’m going to talk to Waters,” Derrick said. “Stay here, Ellie. Let the firemen do their jobs.”
Dizzy with emotions and from the smoke, she didn’t argue. Her eyes were glued to the door to see if her parents made it outside. Unbidden, images of her past flickered in her head.
Running through the front yard chasing fireflies and collecting them in mason jars. Her father tossing the softball in the yard with her. Digging for worms behind the house to fish in the pond.
Her mother decorating the lawn with silly Christmas blowups in spite of the fact that the other ladies at the garden club had disapproved. Every Easter when she’d begged Ellie to wear a frilly dress…
The memory tickled her conscience with sudden affection for her mother. Vera had actually caved one time, telling her interfering friends that little girls didn’t always have to wear dresses. It had been out of character, but that gesture had given Ellie hope that they wouldn’t always be at odds. A hope that soon fizzled.
Wood splintered and the flames popped, shattering Ellie’s memories. The right side of the house collapsed, her childhood bedroom engulfed in the blaze. Flames licked at the windows and the fire hissed into the night as if it was a live, breathing monster.
Despite being entranced by the horror unfolding, a movement to the right suddenly caught Ellie’s eye.
She quickly turned, spotting someone running away. They were heading toward the woods behind the house.
Ellie sprinted after them, dodging falling debris and embers as the walls collapsed, destroying all her memories. Scanning the property, she saw the man again. But she couldn’t tell who it was.
He was wearing a dark hoody, ski mask and black sweats, his face in the shadows as he glanced back at the burning house, then at her. His body went rigid, then he darted through a thicket of pines.
Ellie dashed toward him through the smoke-filled air, her feet flying as she wove between the trees and bushes. He veered to the right, and she snaked her way through the woods, keeping her eyes trained on him and closing the distance. Nearing him, panting with the exertion, she managed to catch him just as he began to climb a hill.
Snagging his jacket and yanking at him, he tumbled backward with a grunt, then spun around and came at her with his fists. Ellie threw her arm up to deflect the blow and managed to knee him in the groin.
His bellow of rage rent the air, his fury seemed to be fueled, and he dove at her headfirst, knocking the air from her lungs. Before she could reach her gun, he threw her to the ground and closed his hands around her neck. His fingers dug into her windpipe, cutting off her air.
Sixty-Two
“Do you know what happened here?” Derrick asked Bryce, studying the smoky scene before him. “Was it started by one of the protestors in town?”
Bryce rubbed a hand over his clean-shaven jaw. “I don’t know, but I intend to find out. The protests against Randall have gotten out of hand. I’ve broken up two now that have almost turned violent.”
“I requested copies of the hate mail he received,” Derrick said.
“Why do you want them? So you can gloat?”
The sheriff definitely had a chip on his shoulder. “Because it could be possible that one of them is the Weekday Killer. And he’s targeting Ellie to get back at Randall.”
Bryce’s eyes narrowed. “I asked Randall about the mail, but he hasn’t sent it to me.”
Two of the firefighters emerged from the front of the house, one carrying Vera, who appeared to be unconscious. The other was helping Randall through the clouds of smoke to the safety of the lawn.
Glancing back at Ellie, Derrick realized she was gone.
“Where’s Ellie?”
Bryce snapped to attention. “Did Detective Reeves go inside?” he shouted to the firefighters, who shook their heads.
Hearing a strangled sound, Derrick turned, spotting Ellie coming round the side of the house through the smoke. She looked like a ghost rising from the ashes. But she staggered slightly. Something was wrong.
An ambulance careened up the driveway, siren wailing, lights twirling, as he sprinted towards Ellie.
When he reached her, he noticed a dark bruise forming on her cheek. Her breathing was unsteady. “What the hell happened?”
She pushed her hair from her face. “A man, saw him running out back,” Ellie said breathlessly, her troubled gaze meeting his. “I tackled him but he got away.”
“Did you recognize him?”
“No, his face was covered.” She wiped at the blood on her lip. “But he set that fire and tried to kill my parents.”
Sixty-Three
Ellie watched with a sickening feeling as her family home crumbled to the ground. All the memories, the holidays, her whole childhood was wrapped up in those rooms. It would soon be nothing but dust.
But she didn’t have time to dwell on it. Her parents’ lives were at stake.
Hurriedly, she crossed the lawn to check on them, relieved that they were out of the burning building, her heart thudding as the medics placed an oxygen mask on her mother’s face. Derrick followed her, watching stoically as she approached her parents.
“Good lord, Ellie, what happened?” her father asked, looking up at her.
“I chased a man leaving the scene. I think he set the fire.”
“Are you all right?”
“Yes.” Ellie’s heart shattered as she glanced at her mother. “Are you okay? How’s Mom?’
“I’m… I’m fine. But your mom, I don’t know.” Her father’s voice cracked. “I found her passed out in the dining room and they barely got her out.”
Vera lay limp, eyes closed, her skin a ghostly white. Ash stained her cheeks and her mint-green warm-up suit was covered in black dust.
Ellie’s gaze met her father’s terrified one. Bruises darkened his face, soot covered his skin and clothing, and blood seeped from a gash on his forehead.
“Vera, honey, wake up,” Randall whispered to his wife.
“Sir, we need to get her to a hospital,” one of the medics said. “Her blood pressure is dangerously low.”
Randall nodded. “I’m going with you.”
“At the hospital,” Randall insisted. “First, take care of my wife.”
Ellie momentarily froze, memories flashing in her mind. Family Christmases, with twinkling icicle lights on the house, Santa on the roof, carolers in the yard.
Other special times together. Her mother making hot chocolate and bringing it to her in bed when she had a cold. Crafting a superhero costume at the last minute when Ellie refused to wear the princess dress Vera had chosen.
When had she forgotten there were tender moments among the battles with her mother? Moments where Vera almost put aside her desire to impress the ladies in her social world and simply let Ellie be a child. Moments before teenage angst and rebellion had set in. She hadn’t been the easiest of kids.
There were times she’d waded in the creek and caught frogs and come home all muddy and excited, her hair full of pine straw, and Vera had ushered her into the bath without worrying about her polished floors and gleaming crystal.
Gathering her composure, Ellie finally found her voice. “What happened?”
Her father’s hand shook as he threaded it through his hair. “Someone threw a pipe bomb into the living room and through the bedroom window. It exploded and the place went up quickly.”
“Did you see who it was?”
“No.” Frustration hardened his voice. “Probably one of those protestors. They’ve been pretty riled up.”
She couldn’t argue with that. She’d seen their anger firsthand. Right now, though, she needed to remember whatever details she could. “I saw a man running into the woods behind the house. I gave chase and caught up with him, but he got away.”
Bryce had been talking to one of the firefighters but joined them in time to overhear the conversation. “Did you recognize him?”