“You can’t,” Derrick said. “You’ve been on the news, Ellie. If the killer’s in that group, he’ll recognize you.”
Tilly cleared her throat. “Derrick’s right. But I can go. He wouldn’t recognize me.”
“Too dangerous,” Derrick muttered.
“I’ll be fine and remain low key,” Tilly said. “I have done some undercover reporting before, so it’s not like I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Derrick clenched his jaw. More fingernail tapping, which meant Ellie was considering it.
“I still think it’s too dangerous,” Derrick said. Fear made his breath catch. He didn’t want to lose Tilly now when they were just getting close. At least Ellie was armed. Tilly was… feisty but vulnerable. And he wanted to have a future with her. “I could go with you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Tilly said. “You’ve also been in the media on multiple cases. Besides, your persona screams FBI.”
Derrick tensed. Was it that obvious?
“Tilly’s right,” Ellie said.
Dammit. Why did the women in his life have to be so stubborn and opinionated?
Ellie cleared her throat. “Tilly can wear a camera so we can observe the group.”
“No,” Tilly said. “The AA meetings work because of the anonymity. I won’t jeopardize innocent, already vulnerable people who’re attending for help. Recovery is a fragile process.”
“Fair point,” Ellie said. “But you have to be cautious and not push too hard.”
“I know how to play it,” Tilly said. “Trust me.”
Derrick bit his tongue, his pulse hammering. He did trust her, but he had feelings for her. And he absolutely did not trust the violent maniac behind Minnie’s murder and Iris’s disappearance.
FIFTY-THREE
Piney Corner
Cord found the feather touch artist Gray Gentry in his art studio, which was attached to the rustic cabin where he lived. Brant, the ornithologist, had described him as a recluse.
He parked in the graveled drive, noting how isolated the land was. The five-mile drive to the site had plunged him deeper and deeper into the wooded land.
Cold air chilled the back of his neck as he climbed from his truck. A buzzard soared above, and a murder of crows sat perched on the fence surrounding the man’s backyard.
The image of those crow feathers on Ellie’s drive and the dead crow in her bed haunted him. Balling his hands into fists, he struggled to control his temper before knocking.
If Gray Gentry was responsible for tormenting Ellie, murdering Minnie and the other girls and abducting Iris, his gut instinct was to tear him apart just like the unsub who’d put that crow on Ellie’s bed had done to the bird.
But he’d learned a lot from Ellie and even from Fox about self-control. About needing to confirm suspicions with evidence before taking action.
Relying on those skills, he knocked on the wooden door and waited. Seconds ticked into minutes. He knocked again.
The vultures still circled above. The crows sat steadfast, watching. Dusk was setting in. Being diurnal, they were most active during daylight hours, foraging for food from dusk until dawn, until time for their nightly roosting.
With the fall time change and winter setting in fast, the days were shorter and dark came early. The storm clouds above painted the area in an eerie abyss of gray.
Odd that so many crows surrounded Gentry’s home though.
Finally, Cord heard footsteps inside, then the lock turning, and the door opened. Cord had searched for the man’s image online but hadn’t found it. Still, he’d expected an eccentric man in coveralls with a long gray ponytail. Instead, Gentry was clean cut with short black hair, wore nice jeans and a black T-shirt.
He was also wearing gloves, a stained work apron and protective eyewear.
“Mr. Gentry, I’m Ranger Cord McClain,” Cord said then extended his hand.
