Page 95 of The Graveyard Girls (Detective Ellie Reeves #11)

NINETY-FOUR

Gus’s Goat Farm

While Derrick stayed to oversee the initial search of the black pick-up, Ellie and two members of the ERT went to the farm to check out the house.

“No one has owned or run this farm for years. Belonged to the bank,” the local officer said as he gestured to the house.

Lieutenant Williams, head of the ERT, assigned two investigators to search the outside of the farm and the barn, and she asked the officer to look for signs of another vehicle outside. If the killer had stashed an escape car here, knowing the make and model would enable them to issue an APB.

Ellie, the lieutenant and a crime tech named Phil pulled guns for the initial entry to clear the house, then ducked beneath the no trespassing tape over the door and divided up, sweeping the house and checking each room.

“I’ll take the upstairs,” Ellie said.

Williams nodded. “I’ll see what I can find in the kitchen.”

Paul began dusting the house for prints and she climbed the staircase.

Dust motes swirled in front of her, cobwebs evident in the corners.

The rickety wood floor squeaked as she walked, a musty odor hanging heavy in the air.

She peeked in the front two bedrooms and found them empty although as she entered, she noticed old blankets piled in the closet.

She stowed her gun, then pulled on gloves and examined them, grateful not to find a body beneath.

Knowing the blankets could have been used to wrap up a girl for transportation from the truck to the house and vice versa, she collected them for DNA.

Her breath caught as she spotted a couple of brown hairs on one of them. Jacey Ward had brown hair.

Had the killer kept her here for a while after he abducted her and before he dumped her in Brambletown? Ballground was between Athens and Brambletown so that was a possibility.

Would they find her DNA on those blankets? Or Bonnie Sylvester’s?

Moving on, she walked down the hallway and found a larger room that was obviously the master bedroom. A rusted iron bed sat in the middle with rumpled bedding indicating someone could have been lying on it. Either one of the girls or the killer?

She searched the ancient wooden dresser, but it was empty; the killer hadn’t left clothes here.

An antique wardrobe was perched in the corner and she moved to it next. It required a key so she searched the room for it but couldn’t find one.

Things were often locked for a reason.

Pulling her Swiss army knife from her pocket, she flipped it open and used it to jiggle the lock. It took her a minute to pick the lock, but finally it turned and she opened the double doors of the wardrobe.

Her heart hammered as she realized what she was looking at. Several red scarves hung from hooks on the interior. And the shelves were lined with red shoes. A variety of styles ranging from sneakers to dress shoes to boots.

She recognized three of them—they were a match for the ones missing from their victims.