Page 24 of The Girl in the River

“Laney will perform the autopsy tomorrow. But Tori was struck on the back of the head and shot in the back.”

Derrick sighed. “In the back. Geesh. She must have been running away.”

“Exactly,” Ellie said.

“Sounds like you’re covering all the bases.”

“We’re just getting started.”

For a long moment, they lapsed into silence, simply sipping their drinks and allowing the dust of the day to settle.

Finally, she broke the quiet. “Do you want to talk about what happened in Atlanta?”

He sniffed his drink then turned it up and downed it. Ellie knew opening up was difficult for him, so she rubbed the back of his neck.

He moaned softly, rolling his shoulders as he leaned into it. “Rick appointed me godfather to his kids.”

Ellie stilled for a second, wondering what that would entail. Would he move back to Atlanta permanently?Don’t be selfish, Ellie. “That means he trusted you to watch over them, Derrick.”

He shrugged, then spoke through gritted teeth. “Lindsey sure as hell doesn’t. She doesn’t want me anywhere around them.”

After draining her vodka, Ellie set her glass on her farmhouse coffee table. “She’s grieving right now. She’ll get past it, Derrick. Just give her time.”

“I don’t think so,” he said in a pained voice. “Besides, I don’t blame her. I let Rick down. Her children need someone she can trust, someone who won’t disappoint.”

Ellie cupped his face between her hands. “Listen to me, you are a strong, brave wonderful man. Those kids,anychildren, would be lucky to have you in their lives. Rick never would have chosen you as their godfather if he didn’t believe that.”

“Rick didn’t know about Kim. Maybe he would have felt differently if he had.”

Indecision and hurt warred in his eyes. Ellie couldn’t stand to see him in such agony. He blamed himself for his little sister’s death years ago.

“You can’t save everyone,” Ellie said under her breath. Just like she couldn’t.

She just prayed Mia didn’t turn out to be another one she lost.

THIRTY

SOMEWHERE ON THE AT

Hard work and pure grit had made Ronnie who she was. She’d built her own empire here along the river and ran it like she wanted.

No damn body could take that away from her.

She was a survivor. The poor girl in the whiskey barrel was not. Course that was her own stupid fault.

While the acid ate her flesh and bones, she would remain here tucked away in the mountains with the others. It was tempting to put her in the river and let it carry her body far away, but it made Ronnie antsy. Her boys had made that stupid mistake of dumping one years ago and now, with the police crawling all over the mountain, she was scared shitless it would turn up.

She picked up the Mason jar full of corn liquor and swirled it around. A long slow drink washed away the taste of the blood on her hands. She’d trained her two knucklehead sons to do what she said but they had another job tonight, so she’d had to take care of the bitch herself.

A laugh crept out. Not that she minded getting her own hands dirty. Growing up in these parts where the river churned around her day and night, and the water moccasins and rattlesnakes slithered up to her porch in the dark, she’d thrived on the rugged wilderness.

She was bred from this land and would die here one day. But not today.

Weeds, bushes and the thick trees of the Appalachian Trail hid what she was doing from the folks that floated by in their canoes and kayaks, happy as pigs at a trough.

A mosquito buzzed around her face and she slapped at it, wiping the dead bug off her skin as a log bobbed up and down and the current dragged it into the dark ahead.

Wiping her hands on her shirt, she pulled her phone and texted Chester.

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