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“I’m going to take a hot shower,” Ellie said, rolling her shoulders as she removed her holster and weapon.
“I’m heading to my cabin to do the same. We’ll meet up in the morning.”
Ellie gently touched his cheek. “Stay, Derrick. It’s been a long day.”
Emotions churned through him, rocking him to the core. Ellie was tough but more sensitive than anyone thought. Yet he didn’t want her sympathy. Couldn’t talk about how this case was getting to him, dredging up memories, the pain and anger of his sister’s death. Maybe it was being around Lindsey’s kids. The weight and responsibility of playing father when he’d failed as a big brother.
“Not tonight,” he said, deciding he needed to be alone. He had to get his head together. Keep focused on the case. Find the killer—or killers—before another woman died.
SEVENTY-SEVEN
WIDOW LAKE
Frank Wahlburg stared through the window of his bedroom. Shadows and ghosts of the past were hiding deep in the dark forest of the AT. The voices of the brothers echoed in his head.
The woods outside held his secrets. The truth that had to stay buried.
His daughter was angry with him tonight. She didn’t understand.
He opened his safe and was bombarded with photos and memories. Some so sweet that sometimes he wanted to cry like a baby.
Others so horrible that he wanted to scream in denial.
Lorna Bea thought he’d thrown away all her childhood pictures. That they meant nothing to him. But they meant everything.
Which was why he kept them locked away.
He pulled a small photo album from the midst and thumbed through the shots of her as a tiny little girl.
Her big eyes twinkling as she dug into her birthday cake on her second birthday. Her smile as she climbed on the wooden rocking horse he’d made for her one year. Her look of surprise when they’d hunted for seashells and built sandcastles on Tybee Island.
He’d never thought he wanted children. A family. Or that he’d be a father.
Then she’d come into his life.
The moment he’d looked into her sweet, trusting face, she’d stolen his heart. Her small fingers had latched onto his and something warm and wonderful stirred in his heart. All his sins had faded away. Or at least he’d wanted them to.
He’d sworn to be the best father he could be.
Everything he’d done since had been to protect her.
And he’d do whatever he had to now, to keep her safe.
SEVENTY-EIGHT
HAYES STATE PRISON
Dominique Radcliff sniffed the lavender-scented paper Odessa used for her love letters. Letters he cherished because he knew she would do anything for him.
There were others just like her. Women who wrote him of their undying love and admiration. Some sent gifts like pieces of their hair which they knew he treasured. Some promised to visit and help him escape. Some offered conjugal visits that had sustained him over the years and kept the hungry, horny fellow inmates at bay.
Not that he’d had much contact since they’d put him in isolation. They claimed it was for his own protection.
Hell, he knew better.Theywere afraid of him.
They should be.
Thankfully, he’d found a few followers inside this place. A smile tugged at his mouth. The lights were out for the night. Most of the prisoners probably asleep by now. Guards were cranky and groggy, sneaking away for a smoke or a little side action themselves. As he lay on the ratty thin mattress on the floor, he heard the occasional clang of metal down the hall as a guard raked his baton along the bars of the cells just to antagonize the inmates.
