Page 111 of Widow Lake

A sob welled in her throat. The pain was so deep, she thought she was going to die. All these years she’d wanted a real home but she’d been living with her mother’s killer.

Where would she go now? How would she survive?

Nana—who wasn’t actually her grandmother—was dead, too.

She had nobody.

She rolled to her side in the bed and stared at the blank wall. For so long, she’d been on the run. Carried her box from place to place. Followed that monster around. Thought he loved her and was protecting her.

But he’d been protecting himself from getting caught. She’d been a loose end.

Now she was on her own. All alone.

She knew what happened to orphans. They got shuffled around to strangers’ houses. Sometimes the people wanted them. Sometimes they didn’t.

But they wouldn’t be a real family.

And once the people found out about Frank and what he’d done, they wouldn’t want her to stay. Especially if they had other kids. They’d probably be afraid she’d turn out to be a monster, too.

Tears burned her eyes and she cried into the pillow. Now she’d never have a real home or a real family. She’d never get to be normal.

ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-SEVEN

BLUFF COUNTY HOSPITAL

DAY 6

It was five a.m., and Derrick had been up all night. He’d checked on Ellie and learned she was stable, so he’d focused on the case. Something was still bugging him. He wanted all the evidence he could find to give the victims’ families closure.

He met a forensic team at the small cabin Odessa Muldane had rented on a dirt road named Buzzard Trail. The cabin was set in an isolated section of the woods, offering privacy and access to the AT.

The woman had no family. At one time she’d worked as a court reporter, but she’d been fired for taking copies of criminal trials home with her. He’d also learned she was a patient of Dr. Morehead’s and being treated for hybristophilia.

Although Odessa hadn’t survived Radcliff’s torture, Derrick was determined to know if she was simply a victim or if she was culpable in any of the murders.

The cabin was dark inside, with dusty furniture that smelled of weed and must. He started in the kitchen and found the cabinets practically bare and the refrigerator almost empty. An old Afghan hung over the back of a dark-green sofa and a woodstove appeared to serve as the heater. Window fans jutted from the windows, a sign the cabin did not have central air conditioning.

He searched the drawers in the cabinet and found silverware and a junk drawer holding rubber bands and plastic baggies. In the desk in the living room, he found blank envelopes, stamps and a vial of sickeningly sweet perfume that she might have used to scent the letters she wrote Radcliff in prison.

He looked for return letters but didn’t find any, so he went to the bedroom. A black comforter covered the bed, the windows shrouded with blackout curtains. He flipped on a light and looked in her dresser drawers. Sexy lingerie was stacked neatly, a combination of black and red. He searched the closet and found a camera stand and camera, hinting that she might have photographed herself, perhaps to send the pictures to Radcliff.

Moving on, he returned to the hall and noticed a door leading to a basement. He shined his flashlight down the steps and heard water dripping from somewhere. When he reached the bottom floor, he looked around and found a trunk filled with old clothing.

Then he found a secret room and kicked it open with his foot. Using his flashlight, he crept inside. Shelves lined the wall holding decorative cardboard boxes like you’d find at a craft store. He pulled one down, looked inside and found dozens of handwritten letters. A quick shuffle and he realized they were letters from Radcliff while he was incarcerated.

Another box held letters from various inmates. Some names he recognized as serial killers or men who’d been on the FBI’s Most Wanted list.

He opened one envelope and skimmed it:

My Love,

You understand me like no one else. When we’re together, I have more details to tell you about my kills.

He moved onto another.

My Sweetness,

Thank you for sharing stories from the brothers. I live vicariously through them, knowing they’ve honored the pact and continued the calling.

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