He jammed the shovel into the ground with all his force, his adrenaline pumping as he watched the tears streaming down the young girl’s face.
Horror filled her wide brown eyes as she silently pleaded for him to let her live. Her lower lip quivered and a moan escaped her as she struggled with her bindings.
“Beg and fight all you want, honey,” he muttered as he tossed dry dirt, stones and weeds into the pile that would cover her once he put her six feet under. “Ain’t nobody out here but the dead.” He gestured toward the deserted area and the woods. “Not even the wildlife can live on this toxic land.”
Steam oozed from the parched ground surrounding him where the coal mine fire still burned. A fire that had destroyed people’s homes, taken lives, and still sizzled years after it had erupted and turned Brambletown into a ghost town.
It was the perfect graveyard for his victims. If anyone dared to venture here and happened to find the graves, the heat would have sped up decomposition to the point of destroying identities and evidence.
Though he was always careful.
Except for that first time.
That had been a pure spontaneous act of rage.
It had also been his most satisfying kill.
Laughter bubbled in his dry throat, and he tugged his ski cap lower over his head and adjusted the bandana around his face. He’d learned to hide in the shadows. To be methodical.
To sit and watch quietly and choose the perfect moment.
Still, the need to repeat the killing ritual simmered inside him just like that fire that filled the air with the scent of gases, charred earth and death.
He dug another foot, the shallow grave becoming deeper and deeper. She kicked at the dirt, sending dust and pebbles flying. Anger tore through him and he yanked her by the hair and dragged her toward the hole.
She pushed and fought, but he shoved her into the ground. She clawed at the dirt sides of the hole he’d dug, but he pressed his boot on her chest and held her down. Smiling, he stooped down then wrapped the scarf around her throat and pulled and tightened it until her eyes bulged and rolled back in her head and she gasped for a breath. Her body spasmed and jerked, arms falling limply by her side.
He removed one of her shoes, then shoveled the first clump of leaves and dirt onto her face. Her death stare disappeared beneath the dirt as he covered her and said goodbye.
TWO
DAY ONE
Crooked Creek
Two weeks later
The sharp trill ofDetective Ellie Reeves’ phone jarred her from a peaceful sleep. Her boss, Captain Hale. Six a.m.
Not a good sign.
She reluctantly rolled away from Cord McClain where she’d been snuggling against his back. She missed his warmth already.
The phone trilled again and she held her breath as she answered the call. “I’m here, boss.”
He cut straight to the chase. “Unidentified body found near Green Gardens Cemetery in Brambletown. I need you and McClain up there ASAP. Their police department is so small they don’t have a crime team or detective.”
“You know small-town sheriffs don’t like others horning in on their territory?”
He grunted. “I know. But considering the fact that fifteen years ago a young girl disappeared from that town and the casewas never solved, rumors spread that the sheriff in charge of it dropped the ball. And his son is sheriff now.”
Sounded like a challenge.
She rubbed her temple. The last couple of months had been blessedly peaceful and free of crime. She’d almost grown accustomed to the quiet in town and living a half-normal life. Almost.
But a spurt of adrenaline shot through her. She thrived on working a case.
And Brambletown was an interesting place with a rich history of death. Only twenty minutes away. Not peaceful. Not serene. Famous for the coal mountain fire that had destroyed homes, the land, and killed so many people.
