Page 100 of The Sleeping Girls

ONE HUNDRED TWELVE

BLUFF COUNTY HOSPITAL

Digger knew it was risky, but he had to see Caitlin O’Connor. She was the only person in the world who’d ever believed in him.

Even if he went back to prison, at least he’d have that.

He’d waited until dark to come, hoping to get in and out without being noticed. He tugged his Braves cap on his head, pulled his dark rain jacket around him and entered the building. A few people sat in the waiting room, and he faced a nurse’s station where a middle-aged woman with readers perched on her nose sat at a computer screen.

He glanced around quickly, but everyone seemed lost in their own business, cell phones glued to their hands, noses buried deep. A hospital staff member wheeled an elderly woman down the hall, an older man following along beside her.

Digger kept his head down as he reached the front desk.

“How can I help you, sir?”

“I need the room number for Caitlin O’Connor.”

“And you are?”

“Her brother,” he said, keeping his voice level. “I just got the call that she was here.”

The woman peered at him for a moment, then consulted her computer and responded, “Room 634.” She handed him a labelwith the word “Visitor” on it and he stuck it to his jacket and headed down the hall to the elevator. The hall was empty, and he rode the elevator up to the sixth floor, carefully keeping his face at an angle to avoid the security cameras.

The scent of medicine and cleaning supplies swirled through the corridors, voices sounded from the rooms, and a metal cart rattled as a staff member dispensed medication.

Crying echoed from another room and he saw a doctor talking to a couple, obviously delivering bad news.

He passed them, then swung around the corner and froze. An officer was stationed outside room 634.

He froze, breathing heavily. He should have foreseen that the police would guard her in case her attacker showed.

Footsteps sounded behind him, and he pivoted to head back to the elevator, but a uniformed man stood in front of him flashing his badge, one hand on his weapon. He pulled handcuffs from his belt, sparking déjà vu. How many times had those metal rings closed around his wrist? Just the sound made his skin crawl.

“Sheriff Waters,” the man said brusquely. “Mr. Woodruff, put your hands behind your back. You’re coming with me to the police station.”

Darnell wanted to run, to escape the inevitable. More bars. Another cell. Accusations.

But the guard at Caitlin’s door stood and walked toward him, and he was sandwiched between the cops. Dammit to hell. Running would only make him look guilty. Or get him shot.

So he ducked his head and let the sheriff cuff him.

“Watch him,” the sheriff told the deputy at the door. “I need to talk to Ms. O’Connor for a minute.”

The sheriff disappeared into the room and Digger held his breath. If she was awake, maybe she’d tell the sheriff that he hadn’t attacked her.

ONE HUNDRED THIRTEEN

LILY LAKE

Ellie sped up, her tires chugging around the winding road until they reached the Jones property, a large white farmhouse on several acres surrounded by nature and woods and a nice view of Lily Lake, which was known for the calla lilies growing in the fields nearby.

Derrick consulted his tablet where he’d been researching the couple. “Damn. Jason Jones is dead.”

“What happened?” Ellie asked.

“A car crash not long before Anna Marie died.”

“Then he’s not the killer,” Ellie said, shoulders knotting.

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