“I’ll call Sheriff Waters and let him know what’s going on. We need deputies out searching.”
“Ask him to put Shondra on it,” Ellie said. “And I’ll research local churches.” While he called Bryce, she returned to her office. Victim one had been found on the AT, and her gut told her to look there now.
She studied the map on her wall, using pushpins to mark the potential spots she recalled, but she couldn’t remember them all. On her laptop, she googled churches within a twenty-mile radius and came up with ten.
Her phone jangled. It was the sheriff.
“Ellie, what the hell!” Bryce yelled the moment she answered. “Captain Hale just called and said another woman has been murdered.”
“I think so,” Ellie said, relaying the message she’d received. “So far, we haven’t found her body, but we need to begin looking. We might catch him in the act. I’m sending you a list of churches to forward to your deputies. We need all hands on deck, Bryce. Including Shondra.”
“You don’t have to tell me how to run the investigation,” Bryce replied. “And FYI, Shondra didn’t show up to work the last two days and didn’t bother to call either. If you talk to her, tell her she’s on thin ice.”
Ellie frowned. Shondra must be really pissed at Bryce not to even call. Worry flitted through her, and she tried Shondra’s number. She got her voicemail and left a message.
Hanging up, her gaze scanned the names of the churches again, and her pulse clamored as one name jumped out. Tuesday’s child is full of grace. There was a church called Church of Grace at the edge of the Blue Ridge mountains, about fifteen miles north of Crooked Creek.
She phoned Cord, but he didn’t answer, so she left a message for him to spread the word to the park service to be on the lookout for a second body. She snatched her keys and jacket and went to tell the captain where she was going.
Twenty minutes later, the image of Courtney Wooten lying on the grave of wildflowers taunted Ellie as she maneuvered the drive to the Baptist church. Night had set in, stars glittering above the lawn, which was dotted with white tents.
The parking lot was packed with cars, and a sign welcomed people of all walks to the Tent Revival. Two tables selling homemade baked goods for the youth group sat in front, manned by teenagers passing out fliers about an upcoming mission trip to Honduras.
As she climbed from her Jeep, old-time gospel singing echoed from the large tent, drowning out sounds of the cicadas and crickets. Growing up, she’d attended revivals with her parents and always felt uncomfortable, as if the preacher’s sermon and Bible thumping were directed at her. The born-again preachers used to rove the aisles, preaching hellfire and damnation, eyes boring into her as if to call her a sinner and suggest she should throw herself on the altar for mercy. Even from the parking lot, she spotted parishioners waving hands in the air and shouting their “Amens” as the reverend began to suck wind.
According to the sign, the revival had started an hour ago, and judging from the enthusiasm, emotions were building. The killer would not have come near this place, not with this many people around.
Still, she decided to look around the property. A graveyard bathed in darkness occupied one side of the property, artificial flowers waving back and forth in the wind. She headed in that direction, veering away from the revival and the holy rollers who’d begun crying and speaking in tongues.
Just as she reached the gate to the cemetery, her phone buzzed. Dread tightened her stomach as she answered. “Cord?”
“I got your message about another victim.”
“I’m at the Church of Grace now,” Ellie said.
“She’s not there,” Cord said.
Ellie stilled, her gaze skipping over names carved on tombstones with dates going back to the early 1900s. “How do you know?”
“Because I found her.”
Twenty-Two
Ole Glory Church
Perspiration beaded on Ellie’s skin as she pulled down the graveled road to the old-as-dirt chapel at the edge of Red River, named so because at dusk the water shimmered with red streaks. Some attributed the color to the Georgia red clay soil although others professed it was blood shed by Jesus. The ways of the church dated back centuries, with rumors that snake handling and exorcisms abounded in the parish. The men were heads of the households and in total control, while the women were not allowed to wear pants or makeup, subservient to their husbands.
The small white wooden building was nestled in the woods and known for its traditional baptisms. At the water’s edge, people gathered to sing hymns while the Southern Baptist preacher dunked lost souls beneath the icy water to cleanse their sins.
Cord’s truck was parked beneath a live oak. She’d called the captain on her way, and he was sending out Laney and the Evidence Response Team. Getting out with her flashlight, Ellie walked down the hill to meet him. For a moment, she was struck by the odd way he was stooped beside the body, staring at the woman.
Cord knew better than to disturb a crime scene, but there was something strange about the intense look on his face and his breathing, which sounded erratic.
The whoosh of the water rushing over the jagged river rocks blended with the whistle of the wind. Slowly, she approached, her boots skidding on the damp ground as she went down the hill. Algae and stonewort crept along the riverbank and she knew from fishing with her father that trout, bass and carp swam below the surface. At the thought of her father, her stomach churned.
Moonlight glowed through the tree branches, shimmering along the water and illuminating the wildflowers covering the ground.
“Cord?”
As if he’d been lost somewhere in his mind, he startled and turned his head towards her.
A haunted look darkened his eyes, and he stood, jamming his hands inside his jeans pockets, and slowly backed away from the body.
The image of the crime scene soaked into Ellie’s subconscious. “Are you okay?”
Cord glanced back down at the woman, his jaw clenched, then gave a little nod. “When you called and talked about churches, I… thought about this place.”
“Have you been here before?” Ellie asked.
His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “A couple of times.”
She didn’t see Cord as a church-going kind of guy. But then again, he never talked about his past. She knew he’d been in foster care. Maybe one of those families brought him here.
“I didn’t touch her,” Cord said, as if he suddenly realized he’d been close to the body when Ellie arrived.
“Good. We’ll need your boot prints though, to eliminate you in case we find others.”
He nodded, and slowly she walked nearer, careful to look for prints on the wet moss and noting disturbed patches of weeds. Emotions warred with her professionalism as she paused to study the body.
This woman had dark brown hair, long legs, and deep brown eyes that looked tormented in death. This time, the killer had dressed her in a crimson dress with tiny white pearl buttons that fastened up to her neck, and simple black flats. Her nails were clipped short again, and her hands were folded in prayer. A page from the Bible was tucked between her fingers. Leaning forward, she realized it was from Genesis, where Eve took a bite of the forbidden fruit.