Page 87 of Girl Between

“That was a long time ago. We have laws to protect people in those situations now.”

“You know that’s not always effective.”

“Of course I do, but I also know we can’t have people going around practicing human sacrifice and calling it magic. It’s murder, plain and simple.”

“Is it murder if the bodies are never found?” she argued.

George exhaled. “Technically, no. But we’re talking about a twenty-year-old cold case. If these women haven’t been found by now, the simplest solution is they’re no longer walking this earth.”

Dana tapped her finger to her chin as she surveyed the scenery. The cabin was small, boiling down to a single room with a woodburning stove and front porch. Presently, a table with two chairs, a freestandingkitchen sink, and a twin bed on a wrought iron frame inhabited the space. From the crime scene photographs George shared with her on the drive over, the furnishings had been added after the women vanished.

Another addition Dana couldn’t ignore was the small Voodoo altar in the left corner. It was identical to the one in George’s mother’s house, right down to the serpent-carved pillar. If he noticed the connection, he didn’t let on. Not even when Dana moved closer to examine the still smoldering bundle of sage. “Abigale wasn’t kidding about keeping negativity at bay.”

George shrugged, like ritualistic sage smudging was as ordinary as burning a candle.

Dana tabled her opinions on the cleansing ritual when she spotted markings on the bare wooden wall at the back of the cabin. She read the four names that had been carved there. They were faded now, but still legible.

Cara.

Amber.

Elizabeth.

Sloane.

“It would’ve been cramped with six women here,” she observed.

George nodded. “Probably why the plan wasn’t to keep ‘em here long.”

Dana let her eyes land on the seven hashmarks carved into the wall. An involuntary shiver overtook her as her mind was dragged back to her last case.

Seven must sleep for all the rise.

Dana closed her eyes and inhaled through her nose, forcing herself back to the present.

“You okay?” George asked, coming to stand next to her.

“Yeah,” Dana lied, focusing her attention on her surroundings again. “According to Sloane Bridges, the girl who escaped, she carved the marks to keep track of the days, right?”

“Yeah,” George confirmed.

Seven days out here in the bayou … Dana’s heart skittered at the thought. If the girls had truly been abducted with malicious intent, they must’ve been terrified.

“Did Sloane ever say there was any element of sexual assault?” Dana asked.

“No,” George replied. “Sexual assault evidence kits were standard protocol at the time. The report’s in her file. No evidence of assault or foreign DNA.”

“But DNA from the three missing girls was found here at the cabin?”

“Yes, along with personal effects from each of the girls.” George consulted the digital case file on his phone, scrolling until he found the appropriate section. “Cara Andrew’s backpack, Amber Montgomery’s bracelet, and Elizabeth Barton’s shoes.”

“Nothing of Sloane’s?”

George shook his head. “Why? You working a theory?”

“I don’t know yet. It just seems strangely convenient there was a single personal item from each girl. Just enough to prove they were here. But nothing else. And nothing of Sloane’s.”

“Maybe she took her things with her?”