Wildflower Graves
A totally gripping mystery thriller
Rita Herron
Books by Rita Herron
Detective Ellie Reeves
1. The Silent Dolls
2. Wildflower Graves
Available in audio
The Silent Dolls (available in the UK and the US)
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
Chapter 94
Chapter 95
Chapter 96
Chapter 97
Chapter 98
Chapter 99
Chapter 100
Chapter 101
Chapter 102
Chapter 103
Chapter 104
Chapter 105
Chapter 106
Chapter 107
Chapter 108
Chapter 109
Chapter 110
Chapter 111
Chapter 112
Chapter 113
Chapter 114
Chapter 115
Chapter 116
Chapter 117
Chapter 118
Chapter 119
Chapter 120
Chapter 121
Chapter 122
Chapter 123
Chapter 124
Chapter 125
Chapter 126
Chapter 127
Chapter 128
Chapter 129
Chapter 130
Chapter 131
Chapter 132
Chapter 133
Chapter 134
Chapter 135
Chapter 136
Chapter 137
Chapter 138
Chapter 139
Chapter 140
Chapter 141
Chapter 142
Chapter 143
Chapter 144
Chapter 145
Chapter 146
Chapter 147
Chapter 148
Chapter 149
Chapter 150
The Silent Dolls
Hear More from Rita
Books by Rita Herron
A Letter from Rita
Acknowledgments
To my mother, who raised me during hard times, taught me about country living, family, being tough and about what’s important in life.
Prologue
White Lilies Cemetery
The angel’s voice echoed in the mountain wind as he knelt and traced a finger over her tombstone. But the devil’s sinister laughter rose above it. The devil had won. He had snatched her life before she even had a chance to live it.
Images of the dead children that had been found along the Appalachian Trail three weeks ago flashed behind his eyes. Their killer was in prison. But where was the justice? It didn’t bring the little girls back.
His heart aching, he dropped tiny wildflowers over the small mound. Although lilies marked the front entrance of the graveyard, purple was her favorite color. She liked purple popsicles and purple headbands and her purple comforter. He pictured her smiling at him as he read her bedtime stories, mimicking the animal noises in the tales. She would giggle as he tickled her belly.
He’d grown up seeing the worst in life. He’d been beaten, taught to make the weak ones suffer. To make the women obey. To punish them.
Then she had come along.
He’d never thought he had a soft bone in his evil body. That he could care about anyone as much as he cared about her. And he’d tried his damnedest to save her.
But he’d failed.
No one knew the truth about what had happened. And if he told them, they wouldn’t believe him.
Anger made him cold inside, cold all over. She shouldn’t be dead. But she was gone. And it was time to make someone pay for it.
One
Friday
Crooked Creek, Georgia
“How does it feel to know your parents covered for a serial killer?”
Detective Ellie Reeves shifted restlessly in her seat. That was a loaded question and one she didn’t know how to answer. Not to the local press or to this therapist.
Not even to herself.
Nervous energy made her tap her foot on the wood floor of the counselor’s office. She’d resisted seeing a shrink since her life had fallen apart three weeks ago, just as she’d resisted a tell-all with the press. They were already having a field day torching her parents for what they’d done.
She couldn’t blame them either.
The therapist, a slender woman with a chin-length brown bob named Kennedy Sledge, cleared her throat.
“Take your time and tell me what happened,” she said softly.
Ellie stared at her fingernails where she’d chewed them down to the nubs.
“I know you saw the news. A little girl named Penny Matthews went missing a few weeks ago. While looking for her, I learned she was part of a serial killer’s pattern that went back two decades. They called him the Ghost. He lured his victims, all young girls, with small wooden dolls he carved.”
“Yes, I saw the news.” The counselor nodded encouragement.
“But you saved and rescued Penny and another child that was taken.”
Ellie nodded, taking some comfort in the fact that the little girls were back with their families. She’d thought once that case was solved Crooked Creek would return to normal, hosting small-town festivals, porch sitting and potluck dinners.
“Ellie?” the therapist prompted when the silence stretched between them.
Ellie took a deep breath. “I discovered that the man who took them was my mother’s illegitimate son, who she gave up for adoption ten years before I was born. Mom was only a teenager when she got pregnant. Her parents, especially her father, insisted the baby, Hiram, would be better off in a home with two parents.” Now that she’d started talking, the words spewed from her. “Although Mom thought he was in a happy family, she felt guilty about giving him up. So she adopted me when I was three.”
Kennedy drummed two fingers on her desk, and Ellie noticed a tiny scar on her wrist. “So you are not blood related to Hiram?”
Ellie shook her head. “No, but that hasn’t been made public knowledge yet. When Hiram was fourteen, he found out about me. He hated my mother, Vera. But most of all he resented me for taking her away from him.”
“But you didn’t take her away from him, Ellie.”
Perspiration beaded on Ellie’s forehead and she wiped it away with a shaky hand. “No, but he believed I did. Anyway, to cut a long story short. When I was five, he lured me into the woods and left me trapped in a cave. When my father found me, and I told him the boy’s name was Hiram, my parents moved us to Stony Gap and changed our names.” Her stomach churned. “Then Hiram started taking other little girls. He killed them because he… wanted to kill me.”
Suddenly feeling ill, she remembered the sight of the children’s graves she’d found in the woods of the Appalachian Mountains. She stood. “This is a waste of time. Talking won’t change anything.”
“Processing your feelings can help you move on,” the counselor said. “I know you’re angry with your parents.”
“They lied to me all my life,” Ellie said, her voice cracking. “And they suspected Hiram but didn’t come forward.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “People in town think I knew. And that we covered for a killer. I’m a detective––how does that make me look?”
Either complicit or incompetent. Neither elicited trust from the citizens of Bluff County.
The therapist made a note on her notepad. “How are your parents handling the accusations?”
Ellie picked at her cuticles. “They’ve been charged with withholding evidence and accessory to murder, but they’ve attained a big-shot attorney who promised he’d get the charges dropped, starting an uproar in town.” Heat climbed her neck. “Everywhere I go, I hear the whispers and see the stares.”
Through the window the sun was shining like a beacon, nearly blinding her just as her parents lies had.
Kennedy leaned forward, arms on the desk. “There’s an online group you should join. Women talking to each other, sharing, offering support. It’s secure, anonymous, so you don’t have to divulge your real identity if you don’t want to.” The counselor pushed a business card toward her, and Ellie reluctantly slipped it into her pocket.
Unsettled at the idea of pouring out her heart to strangers, Ellie paced across the room, noting the woman’s credentials on the wall and books that filled the bookshelf. They covered a range of psychological subjects––eating disorders, depression and anxiety, behavioral disorders.
She’d never been one to surround herself with female friends. Truth be known, Officer Shondra Eastwood, her colleague, was her only female friend. They’d bonded because of their mutual dislike for Bryce Waters, Bluff County’s sheriff.
“I’ll think about it. Right now, I just need to get back to work,” Ellie finally answered.
Work was her salvation, even though her reputation with Crooked Creek’s police department was shaky to say the least. Her own parents had fooled her. How could she trust her judgment now?
“So you’re back at work already?” Kennedy asked.
Ellie bit down on her lower lip. “Actually, my boss, Captain Hale, ordered me to take time off to heal and let the dust settle.” Or maybe he was questioning her abilities, too.
“How do you feel about being adopted?” the counselor pressed.
Ellie frowned. Rejected. “Like the woman who gave birth to me didn’t want me.”
But she’d said enough for the day. Emotions were battling their way to the surface, emotions she couldn’t afford to confront.
“I need to go,” she said. Not bothering to wait for a response, she stormed out the door.
Two
Saturday
Stony Gap, Georgia
The next morning, Ellie’s stomach churned as she sped toward the sheriff’s office. She should have laid off the vodka last night. Should have just left town.
But a glutton for punishment, here she was on her way to watch Bryce Waters be sworn in as the new sheriff of Bluff County, the job Ellie had wanted all her life.
Her phone buzzed as she turned onto Main Street. Looking down, she saw it was Angelica Gomez, from WRIX Channel 5 News. Dammit, the reporter wouldn’t give up.
Shaking her head in irritation, she let it roll to voicemail. Remembering that Angelica was lining up an interview with Hiram, Ellie listened to the message. She wanted to know if he had divulged any more secrets, most specifically if he’d had an accomplice.
“Detective, I’m meeting with Hiram,” the reporter said in her message. “But everyone wants to hear your side of the story. Call me.”
Ellie muttered a curse. Angelica wanted answers. The town wanted answers. Ellie herself wanted answers. Who didn’t?
Angelica’s voice echoed in her ears. Don’t you want to set the record straight? Help people understand? Quiet the gossip?
Gossip fueled by Meddlin’ Maude and the busybodies in town who had nothing better to do than keep the rumor mill turning at the Beauty Barn while Carol Sue covered their gray with foils and teased the hell out of lifeless hair made worse by dye and lacquered spray.
Her mother’s so-called friends, including Edwina the mayor’s wife and the ladies at the Garden Club, had abandoned her the moment the news had broken. They no longer cared if Vera could win prizes with her violets. She had been ostracized like a wilted flower from the garden extravaganza they sponsored every year.
Ellie almost felt sorry for her.
But Vera’s words reverberated in Ellie’s mind like a bad horror movie. I had to protect you because you were my daughter. I had to protect Hiram because he was my blood.
Then the whispers in the town: How could Ellie not know her brother was killing all those girls?
Do you think she let her parents get away with covering for that monster?
It’s her fault those little girls died.
Is she stupid? Or evil like Hiram?
A shudder coursed through Ellie.
You can’t avoid the media forever, Angelica had said.
So far, she had. The pain cut too damn deep.
Hell yes, she wanted to quiet the talk in town. But opening up would only stoke the flames of suspicion.
Spring rain slashed the windshield, promising that the dead brown leaves scattering the ground would make way for green, but Ellie felt dead inside herself.
The sound of other cars around her and the presence of the news van made her stomach twist into a knot as she pulled into a parking spot in front of Town Hall.
Magically, as if Bryce had ordered the downpour to stop for his inauguration, the rain ceased. A commotion on the lawn jerked her back to the matter at hand, and she watched as locals flooded the square where Angelica and her cameraman had set up. Climbing from her Jeep, she inhaled the scent of rain and grass, which still remained brittle in the wake of the blizzard that had just raged along the east coast. The ground was slushy, the wind rolling off the mountain, a biting cold that had lingered as if the shadow of death ho
vered close by.