Wildflower Graves

Book 2: Detective Ellie Reeves

by Rita Herron

Genres: Mystery; Hard-Boiled; Police Procedurals; Traditional Mysteries; Female Sleuths; Noir; Thrillers; Crime Fiction; Psychological Thrillers; Suspense

Synopsis

The darkness closed around her. She tried to clear her vision, but there was no light, no noise, nothing. Only the emptiness, the echoing sound of being alone. Fear pulsed through her. The man had come out of nowhere. Who was he? Blinking away tears of frustration, in the pitch black she felt the floor and walls surrounding her. Cold. Steel. Bars.

Detective Ellie Reeves is hiking in the Appalachian Mountains when she discovers a body. As dusk falls, a gust of wind blows some petals on to Ellie’s path. Following the trail, she finds a golden-haired young woman dead on a bed of daffodils, with a note: Monday’s child is fair of face.

Thanks to her own past, the childhood she tries her hardest to forget, Ellie knows that the wilderness––and its shadows––is the perfect hunting ground for a criminal. She’s certain that the sinister nursery rhyme, written with an old-fashioned typewriter, means something.

It soon becomes clear when another body is found. Under the light of the moon, Ellie spots wildflower petals floating in a river. On the bank lies Tuesday’s child, another young woman who lost her life, far too soon, at the hands of a monster.

Ellie is up against a serial killer who will claim a victim for every day of the week. In the next twenty-four hours there will be another death, and when her own house is broken into, daffodil petals strewn across the floor, it’s clear the ruthless murderer has Ellie in his sights. Can she save more innocent women from his clutches? Or will he get to her first?

An utterly gripping and completely breathless crime thriller for fans of Lisa Regan, Kendra Elliot and Melinda Leigh. You’ll have trouble falling asleep after this heart-pounding page-turner!

Readers absolutely love Wildflower Graves:

“Unputdownable!!! Exquisitely written! I highly recommend this amazing book!... A brilliantly disturbing thriller with many twists and turns!” Goodreads Reviewer, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“I just flew through the book… This book was so complete in every aspect and I couldn’t ask for more... This book was a mystery topped with another mystery over another mystery and another mystery and then boom! Plot twist. This book will taunt with your braincells in EVERY plot twist. It's not just one but MANY plot twists!… I hadn't read a killer like this before. All in all, I rated this book 5 out of 5 stars! I can’t find a single flaw in this… Pick this book up! You will not regret your time on this one!” Ink Drinker Hana, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“GREAT!… This one kept me guessing the whole time… Did not disappoint… Keeps you hooked with all the twists and turns! Definitely recommend.” Rachel Owl Books, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“My heart was in my mouth… I felt scared to read some parts but I couldn't tear myself away, it was so, so good!” NetGalley Reviewer, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“A non-stop, heart-pounding experience… It keeps you guessing until the end. I can't wait for the next book!” Goodreads Reviewer, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“Loved it… Book 1 in the series The Silent Dolls is one of my favourite books of the year, and Wildflower Graves raises the bar to another level. This is now one of my favourite crime series… A great story that gets the full 5 stars… I love this series.” Nigela Dams Bookworm, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Release date: December 3, 2020

Publisher: Bookouture

Print pages: 409

Sample

“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.

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 hovered close by.

Pulling her ski hat over her ears, Ellie burrowed in her jacket and stood on the periphery of the crowd, hoping to go unnoticed. Voices and excited whispers floated in the wind as Bryce exited the building onto the steps of city hall.

Swallowing her bitterness over the fact that her father chose to endorse Bryce as his replacement instead of her, she quietly blended in with the spectators. Of course, Randall Reeves’ support could have backfired after the truth about Hiram was exposed, but Bryce managed, as always, to put a positive spin on the situation. As the new sheriff, he intended to clean up the town. Get justice. Protect the towns along the trail.

He was the hero.

Maybe her father had been right. If the sheriff’s job was about politics and publicity, Bryce had been the better choice. She wanted to concentrate on justice and the law.

Ever the charmer, Bryce saluted the people who’d gathered to watch him be sworn into office, sending cheers and applause across the lawn.

Ellie forced herself to breathe. As Bryce was now sheriff over the entire county which encompassed Crooked Creek’s police department as well as Stony Gap’s, technically she worked for him.

Shondra slipped up beside her, her scowl as disgusted as Ellie’s. “He’s always been a dick, but now he’ll lord that power over all of us.”

It didn’t take a therapist to diagnose Bryce. “Narcissist chauvinist,” Ellie muttered.

“You know during the investigation into the Ghost case, he had me working small details at the festival in town. Since then it’s gotten worse. Last week, he assigned me to cover the garden show. Apparently, Lily was afraid someone would steal the prize roses.” Shondra rolled her eyes. “Then I was assigned to the local nursing home, where one of the patients was stealing the other patients’ afternoon ice-cream treats and cookies. All the while Bryce is sending the other deputies out on domestic calls and to investigate a drug ring he thinks has cropped up on the outskirts of town.”

“That’s not fair,” Ellie said.

“Tell me about it,” Shondra replied with a sigh. “I threatened to file a complaint against him for gender bias if he didn’t start letting me work real cases.”

A smile tugged at Ellie’s mouth. “How did that go over?”

Shondra chuckled. “About like you’d expect. But hey, he finally sent me on a couple of domestic calls.”

Ellie admired Shondra. The woman had grown up in an abusive home, and she was passionate about cracking down on domestic violence.

Shondra nudged her arm, her smile fading. “How are you doing?”

Ellie dug her hands into her pockets and shrugged. “Think I’m going to hike the trail for a few days.”

Just then, Bryce’s gaze traveled across the crowd, settling on Ellie. Some emotion she couldn’t quite compute flickered across his face, replaced with a wicked smile before he stepped behind the microphone beside his father, Mayor Waters.

Anxiety pinched at Ellie’s gut. Bryce had something up his sleeve. That look… she knew it. He was going to make her life a living hell now he was in charge, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it—except quit and move away. Somewhere no one knew her. Somewhere she could escape.

She’d been considering it for days now. She’d even pulled up a map, trying to pick a location.

But with national news airing the story of the murdered little girls, there was nowhere to hide.

The dark, evil thoughts came out of nowhere. But they always lived in his head, whispering their insults, shouting that he was worthless, reminding him that he had no one. Voices that told him what to do, how to inflict pain.

Who to take.

They all had to suffer.

Glancing at the photographs on the seat beside him, the childhood rhyme about Monday’s child taunted him.

“Monday’s child is fair of face, Tuesday’s child is full of grace, Wednesday’s child is full of woe, Thursday’s child has far to go, Friday’s child is loving and giving, Saturday’s child works hard for a living, And the child that is born on the Sabbath day, is bonny and blithe, and good and gay.”

But the girls were none of those things, and never would be.

Night shadows hugged the exterior of the woman’s trailer as he waited for her to come home. Overgrown weeds and patches of poison ivy choked the property, the mobile homes separated by broken-down cars, old tires, children’s toys and junk.

With the streetlight burned out, he could easily hide in the dark corners of the yard. Aside from shouting two doors down and at least three or four dogs barking into the night, the area was quiet. No animals that he could see. Still, he knew how to handle dogs.

Slipping from his vehicle, armed with the chloroform rag, he crept into the shadows of the metal carport. Hunched behind a garbage can, he waited, anticipation building inside him and making his blood hot. His body hardened as he imagined pushing her to her knees and forcing her to beg for her life.

Wind rustled the trees, tossing a Bud Lite can from a neighbor’s property across the graveled parking lot. An old man staggered from his trailer, stumbled, then grabbed the rail and wove to his pick-up truck.

The fool shouldn’t be driving.

But he was not the problem tonight. Tonight was about taking Monday’s child.

Tension coiled inside him as the minutes ticked by, and the rhyme played over and over in his head like a broken record, just like the country CDs she had played. Songs about drinking whiskey and cheating wives.

A half hour passed before the sound of an engine broke the silence. A black pick-up pulled into the carport.

His pulse jumped as she opened her car door and slid her legs over the side of the seat to the ground. A coal-black braid hung down her back, the car’s interior light shimmering across ebony skin. Her full lips puckered into a frown as she slammed the door shut and stood, fiddling with her phone.

Anxious to take her and get the hell out of here before her neighbors got home, he lunged toward her, grabbing her around the neck in a chokehold. Quickly he pressed the rag over her face. She kicked, trying to elbow him, struggling to jerk his hands away, but he was stronger. He tightened his hold, cutting off her air until her body went limp, and her head lolled back.

Smiling to himself, he dragged her into the bushes. Then he scooped her into his arms and carried her to his car.

Opening the trunk, he shoved her inside, slamming the trunk shut.

Excitement made his cock throb as he drove away.

Dawn cracked the sky, a sliver of sunlight seeping through the gray clouds as Ellie grabbed her backpack from the trunk of her Jeep. Wind shook the trees and rustled the bushes, the scent of rain filling the air.

Her gaze fell to the bundle of mail on her back seat. More hate mail.

Several letters had arrived yesterday, the ugly words taunting her and keeping her awake long into the night. Some sounded threatening, yet she’d hoped that folks were simply blowing off steam. She’d been too ashamed to show them to her boss or anyone else.

But as she was a cop, she’d kept every single one of them, and she’d also told the therapist about them just in case one of the threats became a reality.

What was she doing pouring out her heart to a shrink anyway? After Hiram trapped her in that cave, she’d been traumatized, repressing memories of what had happened. A few weeks later, her parents moved and changed her name from Mae to Ellie, so Hiram couldn’t find her again. When she’d talked about Mae, they led her to believe that Mae was her imaginary friend.

Her childhood therapist had perpetuated her parents’ lies under the guise of protecting her.

When, all those years later, the truth came out and Ellie realized the therapist helped her parents, she decided to report her to the board for unethical conduct. But she was too late. The counselor had left the job one day and virtually disappeared.

Ellie forced herself to return to the present. Knowing that cell service was spotty and deciding she needed a break from the countless calls from Angelica and disgruntled Bluff County residents, Ellie locked her phone in the glove compartment.

A few days off the grid, escaping into the mountains, would hopefully clear her head.

Still, dangers existed on the trail at every turn. There were steep ridges and drop-offs, wild animals, and drifters who sheltered in the mountains. Knowing some were mentally ill, and others were criminals hiding out, Ellie carried her weapon and extra ammo, as well as a flare gun, a Taser, and pepper spray.

A girl alone couldn’t be too careful.

No fool herself, for emergency’s sake, she snagged the handheld radio she used to communicate with the National Park Service. Early this morning, she’d texted Ranger Cord McClain with Search and Rescue to tell him where she was going, a deal they’d made long ago whenever she went hiking alone. The fact that he hadn’t responded told her he was still angry with her. Maybe while she was out here, she’d figure out a way to mend their friendship.

Leaving her Jeep, she inhaled the crisp mountain air, bringing with it the scent of honeysuckle and ivy, and began her hike.

The steep inclines and twisting paths of the AT—the Appalachian Trail—led deep into the forest. Tall pines, hemlocks, oaks and cypresses filled her sightline and blocked out the sunlight, creating countless places to hide.

She’d never understood how a person could get so fed up with life they’d venture onto the trail and decide to stay.

But she got it now. She just wanted to be left alone. To get lost in the endless miles of woods and wilderness. To breathe in the scents of nature, watch the dandelions pop up, and forget that evil had torn her family apart.

Then maybe she could figure out what to do with her life, whether she wanted to search for her birth parents.

Because something told her it wasn’t a good idea. If they hadn’t wanted her as a baby, why the hell would they be interested in getting to know her now?

The darkness closed around her. A cloying smell. Something wet. Dank. Rotten. She blinked to clear her vision, but there was no light. No sound.

Nothing.

Only the cold emptiness and hollow feeling of being alone.

Fear pulsed through her. The man had come out of nowhere. No… He’d been hiding at her place, waiting to ambush her.

A dizzy spell overcame her as she tried to sit up and determine her location. A metal chain clinked against the floor. A heavy weight circled her neck so tightly she could barely breathe. Blinking away tears of frustration, in the pitch black she felt the floor and walls surrounding her.

Cold. Steel. Bars.

Oh, God, she was in a cage.

Panic choking her, she forced herself to inhale deep breaths.

Heart racing, she lifted her hand to her neck, nausea rising to her throat. She knew what she was going to find.

A dog collar. Heavy metal linked to a chain.

What kind of sick pervert had put her in here?

Footsteps sounded above her, indicating she might be in a basement. Nearby the sound of water dripping echoed. A dog barked. And… did she hear another woman crying? Or… clawing at another cage?

The steps grew louder. The sound of a door creaking rent the air, floorboards groaning as he came down.

She glanced up, squinting to see his face. But it was too dark, and he closed the door, blocking out any light that might slip through the crack. A low whistle echoed as he walked down the stair, a happy whistle, as if he was excited.

Blinking, she forced herself to be still and choked back a cry. Don’t show fear.

“Ahh, good, you’re awake.”

The sight of the knife in his hand made her snap. The cage rattled as he inserted a key into the lock. The scent of sweat and stale beer hit her.

“Why are you doing this?” she cried.

“Because Monday’s child is fair of face,” he murmured as he knelt in front of her and set a duffel bag on the floor. “And you’re not.”

With a sinister smile, he yanked her by the hair and pulled her from the cage, tearing a scream from her.

She couldn’t see what was inside the bag, but her imagination went down a dark, terrifying path. Tears blurred her eyes, and she began to shake.

He snatched a whip from his belt and slapped it across her back. “You want to live, then beg.”

The sharp sting of the whip sliced her back through her clothes, and she blinked back tears. But she refused to beg.

He brought the whip down again and again, slashing at her back. “I said beg!”

A sob escaped her, and she tasted blood, but she shook her head. Another crack of the whip, and he kicked her in the stomach. When she still refused to beg, he turned into a madman, shouting and pacing and slapping the wall with the whip.

Finally, he returned to stand over her, his breath panting out. With a yank of her head, he forced her to look at him. “All right, we’ll play it your way. You won’t beg for your life, then I’ll keep you for a while. And we’ll have fun.” His menacing laugh pierced the air. “Oh, yes, we’ll have so much fun, Cathy.”

A shudder coursed through her. Her name was not Cathy. But she was too weak to say anything and he was lost in his madness. What did it matter anyway? She was chained in here like a dog.

“Now I’ll have to find another,” he sang as he dragged her back inside the cage. “Monday’s child is waiting.” The metal door clanged shut, then he stomped away, cracking the whip against the concrete wall as he climbed the steps and left her in darkness.

Last night he’d been forced to take another. But hell, this one was a better fit for Monday’s child. Much better. . . .