Page 89 of Widow Lake

And she felt like she was running in circles.

ONE HUNDRED SEVEN

WIDOW LAKE

Radcliff wondered if they’d found Geraldine Woodall yet. Not that he cared. She had been dispensable. By now, the moron cops knew he’d escaped. He smiled at the thought of them seeing his latest handiwork.

Still, he needed to lay low until night. He drove past the college and stashed the car in a wooded section. Then he slipped into the tunnel entrance and made his way through it until he entered the sanctuary where the brothers had convened. His killing spree had begun before theirs, and ended when theirs was just getting started. But he’d been thrilled to provide them inspiration. His chest swelled with pride.

Later, after his trial, he’d learned Dr. Dansen had added his case to her curriculum. That had made him even more famous.

He’d looked forward to returning here for years. Every night, as he lay on the mattress in his cell and counted the cracks and spider webs on the ceiling, he imagined the reunion. The worst part about being locked away was being cut off from the brothers. He desperately wanted to hear about their deeds in detail. Although, each year his following had grown and he’d managed to receive a few messages, so he knew the body count had risen.

But Frank had not made contact once. Not with him or the others. He’d entertained equally as sadistic thoughts as the rest of them, but he’d disappeared from Widow Lake after the first killing and hadn’t checked in. That had been part of the Brotherhood pact. They’d agreed to communicate yearly. They’d also taken precautions to make certain no one talked.

Using the burner phone, he called Odessa. She’d been a constant lifeline to the past, visiting and writing him and offering herself to him in any way he wanted.

She answered in a breathy tone. “Hey, lover boy. I’ve been waiting. Where are you?”

“On the way. You?”

“I’m here. Things are heating up already.”

“We’ll celebrate when I get there.”

“I can’t wait,” she purred.

He grinned. She had no idea what he had in store for her.

ONE HUNDRED EIGHT

WIDOW LAKE

Just as the ME and ambulance left to transport the grandmother’s body to the morgue, Angelica Gomez arrived. As usual, she looked professional in a black dress that accentuated her figure, her dark eyes and coppery skin.

Her cameraman, Tom, trailed her as Angelica walked toward the cabin.

Ellie gestured for them to wait. “You can’t go inside,” she said. “ERT’s still processing and I have to find the man who lives here and notify him of his mother’s murder.”

“What was cause of death?” Angelica asked.

“It looks like the kidnapper pushed her and she fell and hit her head.” Ellie exhaled, trying to wash the image from her mind. “We suspect Jones is involved in all this and may be Frank Wahlburg, the man we’ve been looking for in relation to the Amy Dean and Reuben Waycross murders. But that’s off the record. We’ll frame it so we’re looking for him to notify him about the kidnapping.”

“Got it.” Angelica lifted her microphone, then gave Tom the signal to begin. “This is Angelica Gomez, Channel Five News, coming to you live from Widow Lake.” She tilted the mic toward Ellie. “Detective Reeves.”

Ellie forced a calm voice. “An Amber Alert has been issued for twelve-year-old Lorna Bea Jones who was abducted earlier today by an unknown assailant at the cabin where she was staying with her father and grandmother. A witness described the kidnapper as tall, thin and wearing a ski mask. He is considered armed and dangerous.” She hesitated a beat. “We are also looking for the girl’s father, Dwight Jones, who is in his early thirties, described as muscular with short brown hair and brown eyes. If you hear this message, Mr. Jones, we want to reunite you with your daughter and need your help.” She offered a sympathetic look as if she was speaking directly to him. “If anyone else has information regarding this abduction, please call the Crooked Creek Police Department.”

Angelica’s expression remained stoic as she recited the phone number. She signaled Tom that the interview was over and he went back to the news van.

“Do you think that escaped prisoner kidnapped her?” Angelica asked.

Fear gnawed at Ellie. “I pray not,” she said. “But it’s possible. The witness didn’t see his face.”

“I’d like to interview the witness,” Angelica said. “Is he or she inside?”

Ellie lowered her voice. “No. The witness was another child, Angelica. He’s pretty shaken up and the family’s concerned for their safety.”

Sympathy softened her eyes. “Understood.”

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