Page 108 of Widow Lake

“Are you kidding?” Shondra said with a sparkle in her eyes. “I want you to be my maid of honor.”

Unexpected tears blurred Ellie’s eyes. “Of course.”

Shondra gave her another quick hug. But Ellie’s mind was already turning back to the case. Rescuing Lorna Bea and the other victims. Searching that hospital in case there were other bodies.

“How’s Lorna Bea?”

“Traumatized, but a child psychologist is with her now. They’ve already called Emily Nettles.” Emily was head of the Porch Sitters, a local prayer group, and also a foster parent.

“Good,” Ellie said. “Emily will know what to do.” She always did. “What about Beverly and Janie and Sarah?”

“They’re all emotional, bruised and dehydrated but they’ll make it.”

Ellie clutched the sheet with clammy fingers. So far no one had told her anything about his condition. “And Cord?”

Shondra gave her an understanding smile. “He sustained a head injury. Docs ran a CAT scan and MRI. Waiting on results. But the surgery went well. He lost a lot of blood. They’ve patched him up and are putting him through the ringer with pain meds and antibiotics.”

Ellie pushed at the covers and threw her legs over the side of the bed. “I have to see him.”

“He’s still unconscious and heavily sedated,” Shondra said. “You need to rest yourself. The staff is taking good care of him.”

“Maybe so, but I need to see him.” Ellie’s stubborn streak kicked in and she brushed Shondra’s hands aside and stood. For a moment, she felt dizzy and wobbled slightly but righted herself quickly. “Get my clothes.”

Shondra didn’t bother to argue. She opened the dresser drawer in the corner and pulled out Ellie’s clothes. Ellie shrugged off the hospital gown, her body throbbing as she dressed.

Cord had always been there for her. Although occasionally his overprotectiveness grated on her, he was never demanding. Never smothering.

Tears pricked her eyes again. He was her rock and he needed to know it.

Shondra guided her down the hall to Cord’s hospital room and opened the door. Machines beeped and whirred. He looked pale and so still that, for a second, Ellie could barely breathe.

Pull it together, girl.

Taking a deep breath, she shuffled toward him. Her heart in her throat, she pulled a chair up next to him and laid her hand over his. “Cord, you listen to me. You’re the toughest guy I know. You fight and get yourself back here, do you hear me?”

She waited, hoping for a response, but he didn’t move or even squeeze her fingers.

The doctor entered the room, his expression guarded. “How’re you doing, Detective?”

She ignored the pain in her body. “Fine. I’m just worried about Cord.”

The man gave a nod. “I’m afraid it’ll take time for him to heal. I know it’s difficult, but patience is your best friend right now.”

She barely resisted a smirk. He didn’t know the first thing about Ellie Reeves. Patience was not in her skill set.

ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-THREE

THE HOSPITAL

Derrick shook his head in shock as he watched recovery teams carry the remains of four more women from the morgue in the basement of the hospital.

His pulse hammered. This group of men had been killing for years and gotten away with it. Now Waycross, Wahlburg, Harvey and Radcliff were dead.

A search team was at Pockley’s house now and another would search his office as soon as the building was open in the morning. Another team was searching Harvey’s home and computer as well. The photographer had not only taken part in the murders but shown up as an investigator and relived the glory by filming the crime scenes right under their noses.

That stung.

Dr. Whitefeather looked pale as she exited the building. “I’ll get you IDs on the victims as soon as I can,” she said. “But this may take a few days.”

---