Instead of with alcoholic grandparents?Ellie thought. “So she gave her baby up for adoption?”
“Yes.”
“Were you with her when she delivered the baby?” Ellie asked.
“No. She didn’t want us there.” Connie’s voice broke. “We never even got to see the infant or hold her.”
Mr. Orwell cracked his knuckles.
“Do you think she regretted choosing adoption?” Ellie asked.
Connie shrugged. “I think it changed her. She was depressed when she first discovered she was pregnant, but letting that baby go took a piece of her heart she never got back. A week later, Jordan was gone, too.”
Ellie sympathized with the troubled young girl. That decision obviously weighed on her. But depression hadn’t triggered Jordan to kill herself.
“Can you get me the name of the counselor who worked with Jordan and possibly the name of the adoption agency?”
“I can tell you the counselor’s name. But I don’t know the name of the adoption agency or anything about who took our granddaughter. We were left in the dark. Jordan thought it was best. I… guess she wanted to protect her child from us.”
Ellie forced her thoughts on silent. Had Jordan been protecting the baby from them or from the baby’s father?
The pattern was too similar to the other girls to dismiss.
The missing and unknown baby’s father. He was the key in solving their murders.
SIXTY-NINE
Lookout Mountain
Bertha Benton had tortured herself by watching repeats of the news story about her daughter and granddaughter.
The one she’d never known about.
Nerves tightened her stomach. She had a strong unsettling feeling her husband had known though. And that he’d lied to the police and to her and that he’d kicked Minnie out of the house because of the pregnancy.
Granted, Minnie had been depressed and acting strangely, but if Bertha had known about the baby, she never would have let Minnie leave. For once in her life, she would have stood up to her controlling husband.
Claude’s ambition and power had been attractive in the beginning of their relationship. But over time, he’d wielded that power against her, beaten down her confidence, alienated her from her former friends and demanded she be the perfect wife in and out of the bedroom.
Now his touch repulsed her.
So why do you stay, Bertha?
A shiver shot through her.
Because she was afraid. Afraid of being on her own. She had no money or job or any place to go.
Neither had Minnie.
Sorrow rooted itself deep in her heart. She and Claude had let her down and now her daughter was dead.
Her husband’s office door squeaked open, then Claude’s footsteps pounded the hardwood floor as he walked down the hall. She wiped the kitchen counter down, anything to avoid looking at him.
“I have a meeting at the office,” he said. “I’ll be back for dinner.”
“Okay,” she said as she folded the drying cloth and laid it on the counter by the sink.
She hoped he’d just leave, but his footsteps approached, then he took her arms and turned her to face him. Bertha inhaled, forcing herself to camouflage the hatred she felt for him with a tiny smile.
