Page 16 of The Sleeping Girls

FIFTEEN

SOMEWHERE BETWEEN ATLANTA AND CROOKED CREEK

He missed Ellie. Dammit.

Special Agent Derrick Fox left the impressive Atlanta skyline behind as he drove north toward the Appalachian Mountains. After the last three weeks of staying in the city with its noise, traffic and clogged air, he couldn’t wait to return to the quaint small town of Crooked Creek, the scenic trails and waterfalls, the endless miles of untamed forest and the fresh country air.

Traffic was thicker this morning with folks driving to see the fall foliage and visit the apple houses where apples were harvested, and jams, jellies, apple butter and other apple products were sold to tourists.

Red, gold and yellow leaves dotted the rising peaks, the trees shivering in the crisp wind.

He’d spent the last three weeks at the trial of the woman he and Ellie had arrested in conjunction with the case of the Southside Slasher. Numerous women had been murdered over the last decade in a conspiracy case that had them stumped at first. But with Ellie’s perseverance and the help of the task force he spearheaded for the governor, they’d finally uncovered the truth and now the perpetrators who’d orchestrated the crimes were locked away for life.

He was glad to close the book on that one.

But he’d heard the news report this morning. A teen girl had gone missing in Crooked Creek. Ellie hadn’t called him in yet, but he was headed there anyway. Although his personal relationship with Ellie was as rocky as the cobbled paths on the AT, he refused to let personal issues interfere with the task force.

Using his voice control, he instructed his Bluetooth system to call Ellie’s number. She answered on the third ring.

“Derrick?”

“I saw the news. Has the girl been found yet?”

“No,” Ellie replied. “At this point, we aren’t sure if we’re dealing with a runaway or an abduction. I’m at the parents’ house now and plan to question Kelsey’s friends and a possible boyfriend who may have seen her last night. Cord found her phone in the woods and Landrum is searching her computer.”

Derrick’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel at the mention of Ranger Cord McClain. He’d been friends with Ellie for ages. And Derrick had to admit he’d earned his trust. McClain was a damn good tracker and had helped on numerous cases.

Though Derrick and Ellie had gotten close, there was something between Ellie and the ranger that stood in the way of him and Ellie moving forward.

He put that thought out of his mind. They had a case. That was all that mattered right now.

“The trial ended. I’m almost back to Crooked Creek. How can I help?”

Ellie explained about the parents’ affairs. “The woman Mr. Tiller was seeing gave him an alibi. The wife slept with the track coach at Kelsey’s school. Maybe you can pay him a visit.”

“Sure. Just text me his name and address.”

“Done.”

He hung up, his lungs straining for air. Just hearing Ellie’s voice stirred feelings he shouldn’t have.

Feelings he didn’t know what the hell to do with.

SIXTEEN

BACKWATER’S EDGE

Ellie was grateful for Derrick’s return. He was smart, savvy and had resources she didn’t. They made a good team and she didn’t want to lose that. Ever.

She tasked Deputy Eastwood with contacting the high school principal and counselor for their insight into any problems Kelsey might have had at school then headed to Backwater’s Edge where Ruby Pruitt, one of Kelsey’s besties, lived with her mother, Billy Jean.

The midday sun struggled to break through the rain clouds and failed, casting the run-down mobile home park in grays. The area looked bleak compared to the well-manicured properties in Whispering Pines.

Weeds choked the overgrown yards, some areas patchy as if Mother Nature was trying to wipe out any greenery. Fall leaves were already turning brown and had gathered in thick piles adding to the sense of decay in the tiny neighborhood.

Ruby’s home was a single-wide that had once been beige, but the color had faded and mud and dirt streaked the exterior. Three cinder block steps led to the front door, which bore scratch marks as if a dog or other animal had tried to claw its way inside.

As she walked up to the door, she noted a scrawny man in overalls watching from across the graveled parking lot where he was yanking at his dog’s leash to keep him out of the dumpster, which desperately needed emptying.

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