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“Marion Wells is the person who has been kidnapping girls.” The last one was two years ago. But considering the first had been the younger sister of a former colleague, this one was practically personal.
Betty’s expression darkened. “Is that right.”
“I know you won’t kill her before justice is served.” As tempting as that might be for Betty to end Marion’s life—and the suspicion that had been cast on her own husband. Or Charlayne’s. Then again, over the years nearly everymale in the county had been accused in the court of public opinion.
Charlayne had the bottle of bubbly. She took a lengthy swig, then wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. Her manicured nails flashed in the light, and she cocked one hip. “I can get a knife from the kitchen. We can cut her. Just a little bit.”
“I need to look around the house. Forrest, call the police and get them here.” Kenna strode out of the living room, rolling her shoulders as she walked. Everything she’d found pointed to opportunity, and everything about Marion’s life said she was exactly the type of person to do something like this.
The last child had been taken two years ago.
Marion Wells wouldn’t be kidnapping anyone else.
Kenna searched the bedroom and bathroom. She didn’t want to toss too much, or the police would end up with their evidence tainted. But she had to take a look for herself. The police had never suspected a woman was the perpetrator, always falling back on assumptions about sexual crimes. Not a bad theory, but it hadn’t helped them solve the crime. In the end, all it did was leave them blind to what was going on in front of their faces.
But Kenna almost always saw the truth.
An amateurish-looking embroidered verse hung on the bedroom wall. A smudge of dried blood on one corner of the frame.Pride comes before destruction.
Kenna frowned. That hit a little too close to home. She’d come in here sure of herself, ready to enact the plan to force the ugly truth of Marion Wells’ actions into the light.
A better person—a betterChristian—surely wouldn’t be all puffed up with their own ability. Full of her own surety and self-importance.
Surely, they would…
She didn’t know what a better Christian than her would be feeling right now. She only knew her own heart, and it wasn’t where it should be. Or needed to be. She hadn’t been a Christian long, but she had another question to ask. Whether of Jax, or the local preacher.
But either way, justice would be done here. The missing girls would have voices once again.
Kenna rifled through the closet, enough to see a seam on the back wall. The bathroom was to the left, so what was behind this?
She swept the clothes aside, and the hangers clacked together. A door, barely shoulder height.
A padlock.
Kenna turned around. She shoved her foot back and slammed beside the padlock with the sole of her boot.
The door flung in.
Kenna crouched to look inside and choked on a gasp. “Forrest!” She ducked and crawled into a storage space, a thin mattress on the floor. A couple of old dirty dolls with missing eyes. A plastic sheet had been laid on the mattress, and a too-thin girl lay on top.
Practically gray. Cool to the touch. An IV bag hung from a nail on the wall above her head, nearly empty now.
Forest ran into the bedroom. “What is?—”
Kenna touched two fingers to the girl’s neck. The last one kidnapped.Two years ago.A lump caught in her throat. Thready. Barely there. “She’s still alive.”
Kenna ripped the IV bag off the wall so the hospital would know what she’d been given.
Forrest threw her a threadbare blanket. “Cover her with this. I’ll tell the police we need an ambulance.”
“We can take her. It’ll be faster.” Kenna covered the girl,gathering the blanket around her. She’d been working on arm strength and prayed now that she would be able to do this. She saw the soiled rags between the girl’s legs but refused to think about that. “Let’s get out of here.”
She crawled through the closet door and gifted the girl with freedom.
Praying she would live long enough to know.
Chapter Two