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The place was quiet, the other houses in the neighborhood practically deserted as many folks were vacationing before school started.
It was a perfect time to go in and explore.
The scent of vanilla perfumed the air as he entered. But he didn’t see any baked goodies, only a candle on the table. He sniffed it, realizing the candle was scented like vanilla pound cake. Judging from the pristine kitchen, he doubted Beverly ever cooked. She was probably too busy running to the spa and hair salon. Her life was as cushy as it was ten years ago when she thumbed her nose at him.
His mother’s words rang in his ears:Sticks and stones can break your bones but words can never harm you.
Thatold saying was a big fat lie.
Just like the adage:Laughter is the best medicine.
It was if someone was laughing with you. Not so if someone was laughingatyou.
He spotted Beverly’s knife block on the counter and chose the butcher knife, gripping it in one hand as he tiptoed to the living room.
He ran his fingers over the photographs of her and Janie on the mantle, then Beverly and some guy in a fancy suit at a country club function. Bitterness toward her seized him and he turned the photos face down. Glamour and fashion magazines were stacked neatly on her coffee table. He scattered them on the floor, smiling as he imagined what she’d think of the clutter in her pristine house.
His hand closed more tightly on the knife handle as he inched down the dark hall. The air conditioner rumbled, camouflaging the sound of his footfalls, and as he reached her bedroom, he heard a noise maker playing ocean sounds.
“Thank you, Beverly,” he mouthed.
She lay face down in the bed, head buried in the pillow, long hair spilling across the white sheets. He crept by her bed to her dresser, then eased open the drawer and found her underwear. His body hardened, and he picked up a pair of black lace panties and buried his face in it, his fantasies building with each one.
Bundy, the Lady Killer, liked coeds, especially brunettes. Four women in fifteen minutes when he snuck into a sorority house. Maybe he should wait until Beverly and Janie were together.
Beverly stirred, rustling the comforter, then rolled to her back and kicked off the covers. Moaning, she flung one arm over her head to rest on her pillow and the other to her chest. Her T-shirt rode up, revealing her belly button. She wore no PJ bottoms, just a red pair of lace panties.
His breath quickened.
The blade of his knife glinted in the dark as he used it to saw off strands of her long brown hair to replicate the first murder. He wanted whoever found her to see that she wasn’t the beauty she pretended to be. This detail would confuse the cops, too.
He could always add his own personal touch later.
FORTY-FIVE
WIDOW LAKE
Night shadows plagued the area as Ellie and Derrick climbed in her Jeep. The humidity was suffocating, the temperature in the high nineties and making her clothes stick to her skin. Even her hair felt damp with sweat.
A sliver of moon light wormed through the clouds above. “It’s been a long day. Let’s notify Waycross’s father tomorrow,” Ellie said.
“Might as well. If he didn’t report him missing in ten years, what’s one more day?”
Her phone rang. Her boss.
“Detective Reeves,” Captain Hale said as she answered. “Break-in at Widow Lake on Rocky Lane. Woman named Beverly Hooper called 9-1-1. Local officer responded, but due to the location, I thought you should go.”
Ellie’s mind raced. Beverly Hooper was one of the girls who’d reported Amy’s disappearance. This had to be connected. “Send me the address. Agent Fox and I are on our way.”
The text came through as she hung up. She started the engine and headed back toward the lake. “Two bodies found there and now a break-in,” Ellie said to Derrick.Definitely dog days of summer.
Could all three be connected?
They lapsed into silence as she drove, the Jeep eating the miles on the mountain road until they reached Widow Lake. She followed her GPS to a side street near the college then turned onto Rocky Lane, a narrow strip surrounded by boulders, giving the appearance that the road had been cut through the mountain. Finally, the stretch gave way to a country road lined with cabins and small bungalows and cottages.
Ellie swung the Jeep in beside the police car in the driveway.
Together, she and Derrick made their way to the front door, which stood ajar. A uniform from the local police department greeted them.
