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“That’s okay,” Ellie said. “But I’ll have someone scrape beneath your fingernails in case you got the woman’s DNA under there. If you did, we can use it to identify her.”
Priscilla gave a weak nod, the trauma of the memory wearing on her.
“Was this the woman you saw?” Ellie asked, showing her a photo of Autumn from her phone.
Priscilla narrowed her eyes, then shook her head. “No. She was… taller.”
“This has been a big help,” Ellie said, her mind sorting through the information. “Who else knew that the two of you were going to the reporter?”
Priscilla’s eyes were drifting shut, but she murmured no one. But Jan answered, “We talked about it on the Facebook support group.”
“How many people belong to the group?” Ellie asked.
“A hundred or so,” Jan replied. “Although some are more active and share while others lurk. Sometimes it’s difficult to talk about a loss like we’ve all experienced.”
“I need the name of the group,” Ellie said, adrenalin spiking at the thought of a suspect pool. “It’s possible your attacker was following the online activity, that she knew you were getting too close to the truth, so she pretended to be Jan to lure you to that isolated location.”
Priscilla’s frail hand reached for Ellie. “Then you believe me? You’ll find out if she murdered my sister and took Kaylee?”
“Yes, I will. And I’m going to post a guard outside your door.” If Priscilla’s attacker learned she was still alive, she might come back to finish her.
One Hundred Fourteen
Ellie joined Derrick and Angelia in the waiting room and relayed her conversation with Priscilla. “I’ll arrange a guard for Priscilla’s room. Landrum’s digging into that Facebook group—Jan has admitted him on a dummy profile. It’s not ideal, but needs must.”
“I sent Priscilla’s belongings to the lab,” Derrick said. “And I checked her phone. There definitely was a text asking her to meet at Hangman’s Dome. It didn’t come from Jan Hornsby’s phone though. It came from a burner.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Ellie muttered. “I’ll call the detective who investigated Kaylee’s disappearance and the prison warden and find out exactly how Renee Wilkinson died.”
Derrick’s phone buzzed. “It’s my partner. I need to take this. He may have more info on MWC and whether or not they orchestrated these other abductions.”
“I’ve been working on the content for a news broadcast about the forgotten girls,” Angelica said. “Maybe bringing more attention to these old cases will spark some tips.”
With a plan intact, Derrick walked down the hall to make his call and Angelica left, her eyes buzzing with the anticipation of a hot story.
Ellie phoned the Savannah Police Department and asked to speak to Detective Forrester.
“This is Detective Forrester,” he said when he came on the line. “What’s this about, Detective Reeves?”
Ellie filled him in. “We’re still investigating that group and searching for other children they may have abducted and sold to families,” she said. “But I’ve discovered my case may be linked to one of yours. The disappearance of Kaylee Wilkinson.”
“That case is closed,” he said curtly.
“Maybe it shouldn’t be. It’s my understanding that you never found Kaylee or her body.”
“That’s true. The mother refused to talk then killed herself out of guilt.”
“What made you so convinced that she was guilty?” Ellie asked.
“When I first arrived on the scene, she kept saying it was all her fault that Kaylee was gone. I could smell the booze on her breath. Then I learned she had a drinking problem.” He grunted. “She was also confused and disoriented. She said she didn’t remember what happened, that she wasn’t drinking, but that was a lie. Lab work proved her blood-alcohol was high.”
Ellie’s gut stirred. “Was anyone else around? Were there witnesses?”
“Another woman on the beach said she saw them playing, then she saw Renee chugging a drink and weaving around. Later she heard Renee screaming. She ran over and saw that Renee had been unconscious and the little girl was gone. We searched the beach but by then it was deserted. We believe Kaylee drowned and was swept out to sea.”
“Without a body you can’t know that,” Ellie said. “I’ve spoken to Renee’s sister Priscilla and she insists that Renee hadn’t had a drink in two years. Isn’t it possible that someone drugged her or slipped something in her drink or food to incapacitate her?”
“You’re grasping,” Detective Forrester said coldly.
