All the pretty faces gra.., p.5
All the Pretty Faces (Graveyard Falls), page 5
Others called her crazy.
Crazy was the only way she knew to be.
The bones in her knees creaked as she took a dip of snuff, tucked it in her lip, and worked it to one side. The rich tobacco taste melted with the juices in her mouth and sent a rush of nicotine through her, calming her agitation.
The brisk wind chilled the air, hinting at another winter storm, although it was high time spring came to these mountains and warmed up the earth. The old people in this place where she lived needed sunshine and flowers, not more snow and the icy sleet that slashed the roof of the nursing home like nails driving into tin.
Shivering, she wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and dropped into the porch swing outside to watch the vultures swarm a hill in the distance.
It might be cold, but she needed to breathe fresh air. This place smelled like medicine and shit. Like people dying.
She wasn’t ready for death.
She was here now, and she’d make the best of her time on earth. She glanced toward the hills, but the sharp peaks and ridges were a gray blur. Her eyesight was almost gone, had been failing for a long time.
It happened the day after she’d done the awful deed. Next morning, when she woke up, the world up and turned a murky gray on her.
God’s way of punishing her.
She saw the birds in her mind. The predators.
Each sound they made in the distance painted a clear picture of them soaring across the sky, their wings spread, then diving down to snatch up a bite of carrion.
The vultures always reminded her of him. The monster man.
Oh, she never spoke his name. Had been scared to say it aloud for years.
Doing so might somehow conjure him up from the dead. Or arouse suspicions from the law, and they’d find her and lock her up for what she’d done.
She pressed one hand to her scarred cheek. He’d torn her face up bad when she’d tried to save the boy, then laughed at her as he licked her blood from his fingers.
He was proof the devil lived in these hills.
One day she reckoned she’d be joining him in hell.
Shoot, she’d been living on borrowed time for a decade now. Soon she’d burn in that fiery pit below.
That’s what happened to people like her. People who didn’t turn the other cheek.
Her vision picked up a flash of light in the distance. Lightning. God’s way of reminding her he had the power. The thunder, his way of yelling his wrath.
Then the world became a fuzzy mixture of gray and nothingness again, and she was being swallowed by the storm.
Losing her sight made her hypersensitive to the sounds and smells around her. The wail of the wind. The snapping of limbs breaking off. The crunch of leaves as the animals scampered through the forest. The scent of crackling wood burning in a fire.
The gnashing of teeth as one animal feasted on another’s carcass.
The smell of death.
For a brief second, her vision cleared and she saw him. He stood in the shadows of a hemlock, his beady eyes watching her. Her heart began to hammer, and her arthritic hands shook. She pressed her fingers to her chest and fought a dizzy spell, certain her reckoning was near.
Slowly the image faded, and the world slipped into a black hole. She welcomed the dark.
His voice whispered her name as if it was floating from his grave. “You’ll pay one day, Ellie. You’ll pay.”
Not a vision but a memory. Although sometimes she got the two confused, lost touch between reality and the images that came to her, showing her glimpses of the future. A future that held ugliness that she didn’t want to see.
Lord knew she’d tried penance, had gone to church every time the doors were open the past ten years, and made deals left and right for forgiveness. The deal with the devil she’d made before that would come back to haunt her in the end.
A sharp cry rent the air, and she pivoted to determine where it was coming from. Not outside.
Inside the nursing home. The same cry that had filled the hall so many times this week.
Pain-filled and gut-wrenching, like someone being ripped apart on the inside.
She felt that pain, too. She was an empath, her granny said. Sometimes that pain got to be too much.
Ellie gripped the arm of the swing and pushed off the ground with her feet. To distract herself from the woman’s anguish, she began to sing an old hymn, “I’ll Fly Away.” The nurses had told her to leave the woman in that room alone. That she didn’t like visitors.
Ellie couldn’t stand that haunted sound. The nurses were wrong. That lady didn’t want to be alone.
She wanted a friend.
More dark images assaulted Ellie. Memories or a vision of what was to come?
The birds flying at her.
Then another scream. A young woman crying. Blood spurting from her chest. Her eyes wide in shock. Her hand reaching out for help.
Ellie pressed a hand over her heart and fell back into the swing. Who was that young woman?
What did she have to do with the lady crying in her bed down the hall?
“Yes, Mona, I’m fine.” Josie wished she hadn’t phoned her sister. She didn’t want to upset Mona. But she’d been so shaken over finding that doll that she’d needed to hear her voice.
Because that doll meant that the killer had been inside the house. He knew where she lived.
How to get to her.
“Mom is really worried about you, sis,” Mona said. “I told her you were strong and could handle being back in Graveyard Falls. How did the press conference go?”
Mona’s confidence grounded Josie. Calmed her. “It was fine,” Josie said, although after that press conference, the close call in the street, and the doll, she’d considered running.
“Are you sure you’re all right? Because if it’s too upsetting to stay at your grandfather’s house, no one will blame you for leaving. You can stay with me and Cal.”
She jutted up her chin. “Thanks, but I’m not slinking away like a coward. I won’t allow what happened to change me.” Although it had changed her. Made her paranoid. Distrustful.
She was fighting that fear and paranoia with every ounce of her being.
She wanted to be whole again.
Her doorbell buzzed, and Josie hurried to the door. “Sorry, someone’s here. I have to go.”
“Who is it? Don’t open the door for just anyone.”
The trauma with Billy Linder had obviously made Mona paranoid as well. “Stop fretting. It’s not just anyone, it’s Agent Hamrick.”
Mona’s loud sigh echoed over the line. “God, Cal said he was working on a murder investigation in Graveyard Falls. I can’t believe it. I bet the people are frantic.”
“It is disturbing,” Josie admitted.
“Do you know something about it?” Mona asked.
She considered confiding everything to her sister, but that would only worry her.
She’d protect Mona and her baby with her life. That meant she needed to stay away from them for now. She wouldn’t call until she was ready to leave Graveyard Falls.
“He’s just starting the investigation. I may use it as my next project,” she said instead.
Tension thrummed between them. “Please be careful, sis. I just found you. I don’t want to lose you.”
Josie’s heart swelled with tenderness. “Don’t worry. I’m fine. I can’t wait to hold my nephew.”
She said good-bye, then hung up and unlocked the door. Anxiety bunched her shoulders into tight knots as Dane pushed through the door. His gaze skated over her with concern and a sliver of something that looked like anger.
He’d made it clear he didn’t want her involved, but the killer had involved her by sending that text.
“I left investigators processing the crime scene, and I want to see that doll, but first let’s talk about what happened on the street.” Dane lifted her hands and studied the scrapes from where she’d hit the pavement. “You sure you didn’t see who pushed you?”
She shook her head. “No, I wish I had. Maybe I imagined it. I was shaken up over that photograph.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Or maybe the bastard is toying with you.”
A shudder coursed through her. That was exactly what she was afraid of.
Dane gently touched her shoulder. “Dammit, Josie, you need to get out of town.”
The protectiveness in his tone made her want to lean into him for comfort.
She stood ramrod still instead. She had to stand on her own.
Dane was here to work a case. Nothing more.
The dead girl’s eyes haunted her. She didn’t intend to let him push her onto the sidelines.
She would get the story one way or another.
Dane clenched his jaw at the sight of the scrapes on Josie’s palms. The damn woman could have been killed today.
He had a bad feeling she wouldn’t run from trouble. She’d dive right in, just like she had when she’d decided to write the story about the Bride Killer.
Worse, his body hardened when he looked into Josie’s sparkling green eyes, and that pissed him off.
He didn’t have time for such nonsense.
An awkward moment stretched between them, and then she backed away and led him through the entryway to a den. The house was old and filled with outdated furniture and antiques. It also seemed dark and depressing, as if it had no life to it. There were no family pictures of the sheriff and his daughter, Anna, or of Josie.
After reading Josie’s book, he understood the reason.
Finding out Johnny was innocent had helped reunite Josie’s mother and Johnny, but it only widened the chasm between the family and Sheriff Buckley.
“Would you like some coffee or a drink?” Josie asked.
“No, thanks.” Dane didn’t intend to stay long. “Show me the doll.”
Josie pushed her tangled hair from her cheek and led the way to her bedroom.
Dane pulled on latex gloves. Anger seeped through him as he examined it. “He carved the doll’s face just like he did the woman’s.”
Josie swallowed. “That’s blood, isn’t it?”
“Yes. My guess is it belongs to our victim.” Dane was unable to keep the disgust from his voice.
Another heartbeat passed.
“It has to be a message of some kind,” she finally said.
Dane rubbed his chin. “The broken mirror, and the doll—you think he’s saying he killed the girl because she was like the doll. Not real?”
“That sounds feasible,” Josie said.
And very perceptive.
Dane gestured to the doll. “Get me a bag to put it in. Maybe he messed up and left a print. We might even be able to trace where he bought it.”
“That’s going to be hard. Those dolls are available in every store I can think of, and online.”
“True. We’ll still look into it.” He surveyed the room while Josie hurried to the kitchen and returned with a bag.
“How did he get inside the house?” Dane asked. “Was there a window open?”
She wrapped her arms around her waist. He imagined the sense of violation she must be feeling, and gripped the doll to keep from going to her.
“Josie?”
She startled as if she’d been lost in thought—or fear. “He could have come in the laundry room window. That lock is broken.”
Damn. “I’ll call a crime team to come over and dust for prints. Tomorrow you should get new locks and install a security system.”
She clamped her teeth over her lower lip. “Don’t worry, I will.”
His gaze swept the room. Had the killer touched her personal belongings?
Josie pictured a demented killer roaming through her room and her stomach roiled. This house had always felt claustrophobic, but at least Billy Linder hadn’t been inside it.
This killer had.
Dane gestured across the room. “Look around, see if anything is missing.”
She forced her feet to move. Her files lay on the table, stacked as she’d left them. Her grandfather had nothing valuable in the house, and she had no expensive jewelry. The only thing of value was her computer, but it appeared to be untouched.
She checked the closet, and her clothes were just as she’d hung them. Then she opened her lingerie drawer, and gasped. He’d rifled through her underwear.
The doorbell rang, and Dane strode to the living room to let the crime team in. Footsteps pounded, then Dane reappeared in the door. “They’re going to start looking for prints in the living room and around the doors and windows. Is anything missing?”
Her stomach churned as she faced him. “He took a pair of my underwear.”
“Dammit, Josie. He’s making this personal with you.”
“He wants to frighten me,” she said, and it was working. She hated that most of all.
“He’s not going to get to you.” His voice cracked a notch. “I’ll drive you to a hotel tonight.”
Josie exhaled. “I couldn’t find a room if I wanted. All the hotels within a fifty-mile radius are booked with the film people and actors.”
The implications of the murder and film came together in her mind. “This woman could be one of the actresses or part of the film crew.” A helpless feeling engulfed her. “What if she came to Graveyard Falls to be in the movie and someone killed her to sabotage the film?”
A firm shake of Dane’s head indicated he didn’t buy her theory. “That’s doubtful. Not a strong enough motive for murder.”
Josie curled her fingers into her palms and backed away from her dresser drawer. “Maybe so. But if this murder wasn’t an isolated event and he’s looking to kill again, he has a whole pool of women to choose from now.”
Dane couldn’t argue with Josie about that point. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Hopefully this is an isolated murder, and we’ll find this killer, and everything can go back to normal.”
The skeptical look she shot him indicated she didn’t believe him. He let his comment stand, though. He didn’t want to stir up panic.
One of the crime techs appeared, and Dane handed him the doll. “Be sure to dust the dresser and bed. The SOB took a piece of Miss DuKane’s lingerie.”
The crime tech gave a clipped nod. “No problem. We’ll be thorough.”
Dane gestured toward the living room. “Let’s talk. I want to know more about the press conference and what happened afterward.”
Fear darkened Josie’s face. “You think the killer was there? That he pushed me into the street?”
His expression was grim. “We have to consider every angle.”
She rubbed her hands together, then led him back to the living room. Two crime techs were dusting the windowsills and doorways in the den and kitchen while another handled the laundry room.
Josie walked over to the kitchen bar. “Would you like a drink?”
Yeah, he would. But he was on duty. “No, thanks. Go ahead, though.”
Josie poured herself a glass of merlot and sank into the couch. He waited, giving her time to settle down.
“Tell me about tonight,” he finally said. “Were there a lot of people at the press conference?”
“Yes. About a hundred. A lot of locals, a few reporters, the mayor.” She took a sip of wine. “I talked about the book, then answered questions.”
“What was the atmosphere like?”
“Just what you’d expect. Some people were supportive, others complained that I was sensationalizing the murders.” She traced a finger along the rim of her glass. “I’m not trying to do that. Everyone in town, even ones who didn’t lose a loved one, was affected by the Bride Killer murders. Their sense of security, sense of peace, their trust and naiveté are shaken. I hope that high schools will work with their students on bullying and cliques. That it’ll open the doors to communication on those topics.”
“Linder wasn’t bullied, Josie,” Dane said, unwilling to excuse the man’s violence for any reason. “Those teenage girls didn’t deserve to die just because they didn’t allow some girl to join their group.”
“No, but tolerance and kindness to others need to be taught.”
In theory, he agreed with that. Except Betsy’s tolerance and kindness had gotten her killed.
“Anyway,” Josie continued, “Billy was molested just as Charlene’s father sexually abused her. Unfortunately, it’s a vicious cycle—the abused becomes the abuser. The child’s concept of love is skewed.” She sipped her wine again. “Someone should have noticed and done something to help Billy escape so he could have had a chance at a normal life.”
He was a detective—he couldn’t afford to let sympathy interfere with a homicide investigation. “Forget the do-gooder lecture,” he said, his tone more callous than he meant. “Let’s just stick to the facts. What happened after you spoke?”
“Some of the people in the crowd made noises about me exploiting them, so I just wanted to get off stage. I turned the program over to the mayor. He was going to introduce the director of the movie, the casting agent, and the producer and answer more questions.”
The attitude of the town toward her bothered him. That push into the street might have been a disgruntled local and could have nothing to do with the murder. “Did anyone approach you? Did you see anyone watching you?”
“No. I ducked under the awning of the diner to compose myself while I looked at the text.” She toyed with the stem of her glass. “Then I was upset and wanted to get out of there. I walked toward my car. It was across the street. A group was waiting at the crossing, so I tried to blend in.”
“Did anyone in that crowd stand out?”
She shook her head no.
Dammit, he wished she’d seen something to help. “Anyone look familiar?”
“No. Well, not at first.”
Her hesitation made him sit up straighter. “What does that mean?”
Josie released a weary sigh. “After I fell, it was chaos. The driver who almost hit me was frantic and apologetic. Another man helped me up.”
“Who was it?”
“Doyle Yonkers, Candy Yonkers’s brother. I saw him at the press conference, too.”
