Page 110 of The Sleeping Girls

Digger shook his head no.

“No,” Gil said. “But I remember that kid. They worked on a school project together.”

“How long had you known Anna Marie was not your daughter?” Heath asked.

His father tensed. “When the doctor told us Anna Marie needed a kidney transplant, Mary told me.” A muscle jumped in his cheek. “Then she left.”

“Except she didn’t run off,” the captain said. “Jones killed her because she wanted him to get tested to be a donor match.”

“Dear God. I should have looked for her harder,” Gil muttered.

Heath’s stomach coiled into a knot. “So Artie didn’t want the truth to be exposed.”

“Can’t blame him for being upset,” Digger said. “Must have been a blow to realize he got in bed with his own sister.”

“Yeah,” Heath said in a muffled tone.

Digger’s jaw tightened as he looked at his stepfather. “And you believed I killed her.”

Heath’s father hissed, “You were holding the damn pillow.”

“I was trying to save her,” Digger said, his voice hard.

“You didn’t even give him the benefit of the doubt,” Heath said angrily. If his father hadn’t condemned Digger so quickly, maybe the police would have dug deeper, looked for other suspects. And if he’d searched harder for his mother and police realized she was dead and that she hadn’t intentionally abandoned them, Anna Marie might not have been murdered.

Instead, Digger’s life had been destroyed.

Jones was the one who should have been locked up.

Then none of this would be happening now.

“It’ll take a couple of days to sort this matter out with a judge,” the captain said. “But you’ll be fully exonerated, Mr. Woodruff, and can get on with your life.”

Digger ran a hand over his eyes. He was obviously relieved his name would be cleared. But he’d gotten a raw deal. He’d lost fifteen years, years when he could have built a career, had a family. Been part of Heath’s.

Resentment ate at Heath. He couldn’t imagine how Digger must feel. He would essentially be building a life from scratch at age thirty-one.

He vowed to help him any way he could.

ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-THREE

RED CLAY MOUNTAIN HIGH

Ellie and Derrick raced over to the girls, who were lying on white sheets on the ground, the white teddy bears tucked beside them. They looked so peaceful, as if they were sleeping, eyes closed, bodies still.

Cold fear washed through her as she and Derrick knelt to check for a pulse. She pressed two fingers to Ruby’s neck and held her breath while she waited. Derrick stooped down beside Bianca and did the same.

Tense seconds passed. A minute. Two. It felt like a hundred.

Finally, Ellie felt a pulse. Faint and thready. “Ruby’s alive,” Ellie said, her throat thick with emotions. She noticed a rag on the ground and sniffed it. “He may have chloroformed them.”

“Bianca’s breathing, too,” Derrick said.

The sound of rainwater trickling down the walls of the tunnel echoed in the cavern-like space. Then a gushing sound and Ellie looked over to see water pouring in through an opening above.

She shook Ruby, brushed her hair from her face and straightened her glasses. “Hey, sweetie, it’s the police. Wake up so we can get out of here.”

“Come on, Bianca,” Derrick said. “We need to move.”

---