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“We believe you were also friends with another student named Frank Wahlburg,” Ellie continued. “We’re looking for him to question. Do you know where he is?”
Pockley shifted some folders on his desk. “I haven’t heard from Frank in years. He moved away after college and we didn’t keep up.”
“Where were you last night?” she asked.
Pockley stood, stacking the folders neatly. Signs he had OCD, Ellie thought. All the books on his shelf were evenly aligned as well. “Here, working on an article for publication. Now, I want you to leave. I don’t like where this is going.”
Derrick cleared his throat. “Were you also friends with Dominique Radcliff?”
The professor threw his shoulders back, his tone slightly shrill. “That serial killer?”
“Yes,” Derrick said. “Did you know him?”
“No, but we studied his case in Dr. Dansen’s class. He was arrested early 2013 so she added it to the spring semester syllabus.”
“Tell us about your relationship with Wahlburg and Waycross,” Ellie said. “We heard that you guys formed a cult.”
Pockley went so still Ellie heard his breath wheezing out in tiny pants. His face reddened and his fingers went wild, twitching. He opened his mouth as if to argue, then seemed to catch himself and his lips thinned into a straight line. “It was not a cult. It was a chess club,” he said, his tone calm but defensive. “Now, if you want to talk to me again, you can go through my attorney.”
Ellie and Derrick both stood, presenting what she hoped was a formidable force.
“Don’t leave town, Professor Pockley,” Derrick said curtly.
Ellie cut him a warning look. “If you had anything to do with the deaths of Amy Dean or Reuben Waycross or the break-in at Beverly Hooper’s or know who did, it would behoove you to speak up now.” She gave a pointed look at his pets. “Or else you’re going to end up caged just like them.”
She spun on her heels and stalked out, Derrick following her.
“Do you believe him?” Ellie asked.
“Not for a minute. He’s too jumpy and defensive.”
“Agreed. I think he’s lying through his teeth.” Hot air swirled around her like a slap in the face as they stepped outside. Her phone rang as they headed toward the Jeep, and she punched Connect. “Cord?”
“Ellie, I was hiking near Widow Lake.” Cord’s voice sounded gruff. “I found a small grave near Black Snake Cove.
Ellie’s pulse clamored.Please don’t let it be Paisley.
SIXTY-EIGHT
BLACK SNAKE COVE
“Cord, send me the coordinates. We’re on our way,” Ellie said as they headed to her Jeep.
Derrick grimaced at the ashen look on Ellie’s face. Although she was tough and played it cool under pressure, he’d worked with her long enough to recognize fear in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”
Ellie pocketed her phone. “We have to go. Cord found what he thinks is a small grave near Widow Lake.”
Derrick’s lungs tightened as the implications set in. “You want me to drive?”
She shook her head. “Driving is a stress release for me,” she said in a raspy voice.
Derrick caught her hand as she reached for the door. “It might not be the missing little girl, Ellie. It might not.”
She nodded, but he saw tears pooling in her eyes and her body trembled. A second later, the determined detective snapped back in place and she pulled away, yanked her keys from her pocket and he trailed her to the Jeep.
Outside, crickets chirped and fireflies flitted across the dusty sky, the night sound of the lake echoing in the still, humid air. Ellie called Dr. Whitefeather as she got in and started the engine.
“Cord found a grave at a place called Black Snake Cove near Widow Creek. I’ll send you the coordinates so you can meet us there.” She hesitated and he knew Laney would agree. She was always dependable and worked alongside Ellie and the team to see that justice was served for the dead.
