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From the doorway, Derrick cleared his throat. “Ellie, come here. You have to see this.”
“I’ll be right there.” She turned to Angelica. “I’ll let you know when we can report the murder. For now, let’s concentrate on finding the missing girl.”
Angelica agreed and walked back toward the van while Ellie climbed the steps again. Judging from Derrick’s troubled expression, he’d found something disturbing.
“What is it?” she asked.
“You have to see for yourself.”
Worry for Lorna Bea mounted as she trailed Derrick to the father’s bedroom.
“I got that safe open.”
At first, she wasn’t certain what she was looking at. There were plastic bags and boxes labeled neatly. One held a knife, one a scalpel, another fingernails, another hair, another teeth. Names were listed on each item.
Ellie’s heart slammed in her chest.
Dear God. Dansen had said that Frank was into murderabilia. These were souvenirs from murder victims.
ONE HUNDRED NINE
SOMEWHERE ON THE AT
Frank Wahlburg handed his client his merchandise and accepted the payment, smiling at how much people were willing to pay. Long ago, he’d established his side business, dealing with memorabilia that catered to those on the dark web.
The private chat room he’d established for his business had drawn followers and collectors from all over the world. Orders were shipped, although there were a few items he could not send through the mail. Those required personal meetings.
Another reason he traveled across the country.
Tonight, he had to meet the brothers though. Satisfy the agreement, even though he’d deviated from it ten years ago. They still didn’t know the truth. And they never would.
He secured the box he’d brought with him for the reunion, locking it in the secret compartment he’d had installed in his SUV. As he drove, he turned on the radio.
“This is Cara Soronto with your local weather. It’s been another scorcher today, folks, with no relief in sight. Brush fires have popped up along I-16 toward Savannah and a mandated no watering restriction is in place. Already six deaths from heat strokes have been reported across the South and these record temperatures will remain in the high nineties for the rest of the week. Please do not leave your children or pets in a locked car with no ventilation!”
Next came the news. “Angelica Gomez from Channel Five news here with this breaking story. An Amber Alert has been issued for twelve-year-old Lorna Bea Jones who was abducted from a cabin where she was vacationing with her family.” She paused, then continued, “Police are also looking for the girl’s father, Dwight Jones, who is in his early thirties, described as muscular with short brown hair and brown eyes. If you hear this message, Mr. Jones or if anyone has information regarding the abduction, please call the Crooked Creek Police Department.”
Frank pounded the steering wheel with his fist and cursed. He’d done everything he could to protect his daughter. But nowtheyhad her. He knew it in his gut.
Cold fear seized every cell in his body. He stepped on the accelerator. No telling what they’d do to Lorna Bea. They’d tell her everything.
He had to save her. She didn’t deserve to suffer for what he’d done.
ONE HUNDRED TEN
SOMEWHERE ON THE AT
Pretty Sarah Turner didn’t look so pretty anymore. Not like she had when she’d socialized with her friends. Or undressed in her apartment.
He’d watched her for months now. Liked the way her silky hair draped her shoulders and the wind tossed the strands around when she jogged.
She was a fitness fanatic and worked out a like a fiend. The treadmill. Running. Even yoga at the park in her tight yoga pants and sports bra that revealed the finest cleavage he’d seen in years.
But she’d looked right past him as if she didn’t even see him.
As if he was invisible.
Just like he’d always been.
