Lola returned a moment later with a bag and a Diet Soda. “I threw in a slice of peach pie for you, Ellie. You look like you need it.”
Ellie bit back a laugh. Southern folks thought food fixed everything. Casseroles and pies and sweet tea were staples delivered to your door whenever someone died. Widowed men were buried beneath them before their wives’ bodies even got cold.
Tossing some cash, including a generous tip, onto the counter, Ellie snatched her food and hurried back outside. Ten minutes later, she wolfed down the sandwich and pie in her office, then filled Heath and her captain in on what she’d learned from Renee Wooten.
“I’ve already checked Renee’s alibi, and it’s rock solid, but the other women who filed lawsuits against Courtney have motive,” Ellie said. “We need to find out who they are.”
“That’ll be hard if what you said is true about the non-disclosure agreement,” replied Captain Hale, “although under the circumstances, we can probably convince a judge to issue warrants and force the lawyer who drew up the papers to talk.”
“You’d think he’d want to know who killed Courtney,” Ellie said. “But if he’s invested in the company, he may not want the truth to come out. The company might have to be shut down and that could mean big money.”
Captain Hale popped a mint into his mouth, his replacement for his life-long smoking habit. “I’ll handle that,” he said, pulling his phone from his pocket and leaving.
“I’m still looking at her social media for clues,” Heath said. “But so far, nothing from a man who might have been a stalker.” He hesitated. “You mentioned bruising that looked like a collar… I’ll see what I can find on sex clubs in the area. There’s an adult toyshop called The Love Shack on the highway near a strip club. Maybe our perpetrator bought something from there.”
“According to Laney, there wasn’t evidence of recent sexual activity or abuse,” Ellie said. “Although the collar could be about domination and not sex. Go check out that place and see what the owner has to say. Maybe he’s got a customer who’s into Dominatrix or S and M.”
Heath agreed, then left, and Ellie turned to her computer. The killer’s signature was important. He’d clearly chosen the plain, drab clothing because it was the opposite of Courtney. But what did the bed of daffodils mean?
Determined to understand what made this monster tick, she ran a search for the symbolism of the wildflowers.
Her eyes widened as she began to read.
Daffodils are known as a schizophrenic flower which symbolize resurrection and rebirth, or self-love and vanity. They are also the flower of the underworld.
Ellie threaded her fingers through her hair. This killer was definitely trying to tell them something about his view of the victim. Was he a religious man?
Her curiosity raised, she googled the meaning of thorny bramble. A quick search yielded results.
Thorns symbolize grief, difficulties and sin. The thorns represent minor sins. Bramble represents major sins.
Ellie sat back with a weary sigh. Did the killer see himself as some kind of saint who’d been chosen to dole out punishment to sinners?
Twenty
Red River, Georgia
The ice-cold water lapped back and forth against the riverbank—a peaceful, reverent sound against the call of the wild inside him.
He carefully laid the woman onto the moss-covered ground, his teeth clenched as he dressed her in the plain cotton panties. Before he fitted her with the bra, he made x’s with his knife on her breasts, x’s to expose the implants she’d gotten to enhance her chest. Another fake, just like Cathy. He punctured them with his knife, smiling as the saline began to leak down her tattered skin.
Then came the simple white bra. For her, he’d chosen a deep crimson dress which seemed fitting for her occupation, but he buttoned the dress up to her neck. The red color blended with the jagged bloody cut on her neck, and he carefully wound the bramble around her throat, then placed a red poppy in her hair. But instead of the silver sparkly heels she would have chosen, he completed the outfit with simple black flats. She had to be humbled somehow.
While she lay silently, eyes staring at the roving clouds above as if she could see the heavens but she knew she’d never make it there, he scattered the daffodils across the ground by the river’s edge. A beautiful blanket of yellow dotted the green, then he lifted the woman and placed her on the bed. Spreading more daffodils across her lifeless body, he buried her in the yellow petals until only slivers of red peeked through the wildflowers.
Folding her hands in prayer fashion, he tucked a Bible page between her fingers, then removed his needle and suture thread and sewed her lips together.
Smiling at his handiwork, he stood, then decided to send Detective Reeves a text.
Laughing as he hit send, he grabbed his duffel bag and headed back onto the trail with a hitch in his step. One still waited in the cage for him. She still hadn’t broken, and that meant more fun and games tonight.
Then tomorrow another woman would have to die.
Twenty-One
Crooked Creek
Night was falling, and Ellie was still at the office. Frustrated, she still had no real lead in the Courtney Wooten murder. Her phone beeped with a text. Hoping for good news from Heath, she quickly checked the message.
But her heart stuttered when she saw the wording.
Tuesday’s child is full of grace. Can you find her, Detective Reeves?
Her hand trembled, and her stomach pitched to her throat. It was him. He’d already killed again.
And now he was taunting her.
She tried messaging back, but it was undeliverable, and just as before, when she called the number, it was unavailable. It was most likely another burner phone.
Her body tight with tension, she stood and hurried to inform her boss. “Captain Hale, look at this. He’s killed again.”
He ran a hand over his balding head as he glanced at the message. “By God, I was afraid of that.”
She had been, too.
“I’m still working on the warrants to find out who all filed lawsuits against Ms. Wooten,” the captain said. “Maybe the killer took another victim to throw us off?”
“Maybe,” Ellie conceded, although she sensed there was more to it. “But that would be risky. This man is methodical, a planner, detail oriented. It’s like he’s playing a game.”
Captain Hale sucked air through his teeth. “What is he trying to tell us with that rhyme?”
Ellie shook her head. “I don’t know for sure. But he left victim number one, a beauty expert, at the Reflection Pond, as if to imply she needed to look within herself.” She scratched her hair, mind racing. “Tuesday’s child is full of grace—does he mean she’s full of grace or lacking it?”
She paced across his office, struggling to understand the killer’s message.
“Falling from grace means losing God’s favor,” Captain Hale said.
Ellie snapped her fingers. “Right. Then perhaps he’s leaving her at a church or some place of religious significance.”