“She said the same to me,” Clara said. “But I got the impression she hated him. That…”
The detective leaned forward. “That what, sweetie?”
Clara’s look turned pained. “That… she was afraid of him.”
TWENTY-FOUR
Midnight Ridge
He smiled as he watched the repeat of the press conference about Minnie. He recognized Detective Reeves from other cases she’d worked.
She was a worthy adversary. Excitement zinged through him at the very idea of beating her, literally and figuratively. He looked down at his hands, flexed his fingers and raised one in the air.
One girl taken care of. One child saved from another mother who should never have been allowed to birth a child.
Too bad that no one saved him from his own.
People on the outside of his life had thought she was sweet and patient. They had no idea what he’d had to endure.
Laughter rumbled inside him, and he walked to the circular window of the attic room, memories flooding him just as the overflowing creek had flooded the downstairs when he was five.
He closed his eyes, remembering the wild look in his mother’s eyes that night when she grabbed him and made him crawl through the mud and slush and snakes that had sweptthrough, trash and debris floating along and sloshing over his small body as he struggled to swim.
The evil shone in her eyes when the moon strained through the dark misty fog over the mountain, and he hid in the attic room of the mausoleum of a house where he kept the birds he’d killed. Skinning them and tacking their feathers to the walls in demonic patterns as he’d found in the book she kept in the trunk of the dark tiny space.
The black crow feathers were his favorites. Omens of death. Hints of the evil that lived within her and the walls where she kept him prisoner.
Hints of the darkness within him he’d inherited from her.
Nightmares of the birds slamming into the windows, attempting to get in at night when he slept. Their screeching cries and croaky attack calls echoing through the rotting walls.
His dreams of smashing their bodies and twisting their necks until the fine bones cracked and splintered. Carefully removing the wings to keep as souvenirs of his prized kills and making them into a bed like a curtain of darkness.
A bed of bones and feathers.
A wall of them to honor his calling.
He’d left feathers surrounding Minnie, one beneath her cheek. That one was special because he’d kissed it as if kissing her goodbye. The cops hadn’t mentioned it on the news, but they had to have found it. Although with so many feathers, they’d never realize that one was special.
TWENTY-FIVE
Crooked Creek Police Department
Ellie texted Deputy Landrum and asked him to come to her office.
She offered Hazel and Clara a sympathetic smile. “Let me report this license plate to my deputy so he can get on it, then I want to talk to you a little longer.”
Hazel and Clara both agreed, and she stood and went to her office door to meet the deputy.
“What do you need?”
“I have the make, model and license number of the car Minnie used.” She introduced him to Hazel and Clara. “Minnie was living with this woman, Hazel, and told her she was taking Iris to the park but never came back.”
Heath pulled his phone and Ellie texted the information. “Hazel said she drove by the park and Minnie’s car wasn’t there but check around the park area and surrounding streets to see if it was left nearby. Also issue an APB for the vehicle. If we can locate it, we might find evidence of who allegedly killed Minnie and allegedly abducted Iris.”
“On it.” Landrum turned and headed back to work, and Ellie rejoined Hazel and Clara.
“Minnie wouldn’t have killed herself,” Clara said emphatically.
