Page 35 of Widow Lake

Then she could float among the ghosts already living below and no one would ever find her.

FORTY-THREE

BLUFF COUNTY MORGUE

While Ellie drove toward the morgue, Derrick ran a background check on Vincent Billings. “Billings was cleared by the police regarding the Darla Loben incident. After that, he moved across the country and has been working at a reptile house in California.”

“Was he questioned in the disappearance of Amy Dean?”

“Let me pull the police report.”

Ellie focused on the winding road as he did so.

“Looks like police questioned everyone in the complex,” Derrick said. “But Billings had already left town, before Amy’s disappearance.”

“So he’s not our perp,” Ellie said, glad to strike him off the list. Methodical policework involved eliminating persons of interest to narrow down the suspect field.

The sun was fading, although the heat was still oppressive as Ellie parked, and she and Derrick entered the morgue.After all the cases she’d worked, she should have grown immune to the acrid scents of death and formaldehyde, along with the tools Laney used. Scalpels, a measuring scale, bins for organs, test tubes and the drain pan. But even with the ventilation, the smells turned her stomach and a chill swept over her.

Derrick was a rock and seemed unfazed by this part of the job. “What do we have, Dr. Whitefeather?”

Laney adjusted her safety glasses. “Definitely a male. Guess his age to be around twenty- to twenty-two at the time of death. Scarring on the skull indicates he died from blunt force trauma to the back of the head.”

Laney pointed to an X-ray she’d clipped on her board. “There are also striations on his arms indicating he may have fought with someone before his death.”

“Which means this man was most likely murdered,” Ellie said. Just as they’d speculated. “Either he fought with someone in the car or he was killed elsewhere, then the killer put him in the car and forced it over the bridge.”

“Do you have an ID?” Derrick asked.

Laney nodded. “DNA and dental records confirm his name was Reuben Waycross.”

Derrick stepped from the room, his phone in hand. “I’ll see what I can find on him, if he was in the missing persons’ database.”

“Anything else you can tell us about him?” Ellie asked.

“Not at this stage of the game.”

Moments later, Derrick returned. “I have an address for Reuben Waycross’s father.”

Ellie thanked Laney. “Let me know what else you find. We need to make the death notification.”

Hot air blasted Ellie as they exited the morgue, and she dragged in deep breaths to erase the lingering odors of the autopsy.

“Where does Mr. Waycross live?” Ellie asked as they got in her Jeep.

“Dawsonville,” Derrick said. “He’s the mayor. The odd thing is there was never a missing person’s report filed on Reuben.”

Ellie raised a brow. “You mean he’s been dead ten years and no one has even been looking for him?”

FORTY-FOUR

ROCKY LANE

He waited long after the lights in Beverly Hooper’s little house were turned off and the place was dark, then another hour to give her time to be fast asleep. Then he slipped around to the back door, hiding in the foliage as he checked each window. Living in the shadows, behind the scenes, was a way of life for him.

It served him well now as it had before.

The windows and door were secure, so he pulled his tool from his pocket and picked the lock on the door.

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