Tilly stared into her drink. “She probably was harsh to him. But that doesn’t seem like a reason to kill her or those other girls.”
“Like I said, he was traumatized as a child. We’ll have a psychiatrist evaluate him, but he may have had a psychotic break when he was younger.” Derrick didn’t want to share details at this point.
A shudder rippled through Tilly and Derrick wanted to pull her in his arms.
“Thank you for telling me. I need to call my brother and parents and let them know.”
Her tormented gaze met his. “Under the circumstances, Sheriff Wallace offered to inform your parents.”
“Thanks,” she murmured. “I really don’t want anything else to do with them.”
“I figured,” Derrick said. “And I’m sorry. Do you want me to tell your brother?”
She tossed back the rest of her drink. “No. Hayden and I made peace with each other. I’ll talk to him. I owe him that much.”
“Of course.” He knew he should go, but didn’t want to leave her yet. Not when she looked so vulnerable. “Why don’t you call him, and I’ll wait around if you want to talk.”
A slow smile lifted her lips, and she squeezed his hand. “I’d like that, Agent Fox.”
“It’s Derrick,” he murmured. “Please call me Derrick.”
“All right, Derrick,” she murmured with a tiny smile. “I’ll be right back.” She stood and walked to the kitchen, then he heard her talking to her brother. A minute later, she returned with the bottle of scotch.
“How is your brother?” Derrick asked.
She shrugged. “Sad, but relieved to finally know the truth.”
“I understand.”
“I guess you do.” Tilly wiped at a tear. “It’s hard to let go, but it’s time.”
Derrick nodded. “Closure does help. Eventually.”
She refilled both their glasses. “I followed up with Emanuel Black and the governor on the toxin cleanup on the land by Green Gardens Cemetery,” Tilly said, surprising him by changing the subject. “Looks like the protests and publicity lit a fire with the governor. He has a committee working on it. Their goal is to have it cleaned up and environmentally safe within a year.”
“That’s great news,” Derrick said. “I’ve read some of your articles. You’re an amazing writer.”
She spread a blanket on the floor in front of the fire, sat down and patted the seat beside her. He smiled and joined her, and for a long moment, they just sat quietly and stared into the flames.
As they sipped their drinks, she slowly reached for his hand, and he clasped hers and squeezed it. He’d felt a connection with her the first time they met. He admired her investigative writing, her tenacity in searching for the truth and her love for her brother.
She also possessed a quiet kind of beauty that drew him to her. A spark of something was happening between them, and Derrick decided to embrace it.
ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-THREE
Crooked Creek Police Station
Ellie was satisfied that Ida, Kat and Hetty would eventually be okay. They were survivors.
She didn’t blame Ida for deciding to take Kat and leave town and hoped they could start a new life. Hetty had even decided to go with them and start a gardening center somewhere else.
She hoped they’d find happiness and peace and put the past behind them. Although overcoming the fact that they’d trusted Joe and he’d deceived them would be difficult for Ida and Kat. How did one reconcile the fact that a serial killer had lived right under their own roof and they’d been oblivious to it?
Then again, she understood how love could make you blind to someone’s secrets.
Resigned that she had to face Cord, she walked to the interview room and opened the door. When he looked up at her with tortured eyes, her heart melted, anger disintegrating into the abyss of her love for him.
“We found the killer. It was Ida’s husband, Joe.”
