Page 45 of The Graveyard Girls

Ellie and Derrick exchanged a silent look. Red shoes were part of the unsub’s MO.

FIFTY

Green Gardens Cemetery

Hetty tended the snapdragons and pansies around the fountain at the entrance to the graveyard, grateful to add some color to the gloomy sight of the morose-looking graves.

Some people visited and took care of their family members’ plots and brought flowers, but others had been abandoned to the elements and required her to spruce them up.

She enjoyed the feel of fresh dirt on her hands and the smell of the earth and tried to make the land cheerier, hoping in some small way she could atone for the things she’d done in this very place.

A few tourists wandered by the memorial, some snapping photographs and selfies, their morbid curiosity evident, while others searched the names, most likely looking for a friend or relative. That man with the burn scars was back today and was roaming the graveyard, photographing the tombstones.

Memories of running and playing chase through the graveyard at night struck her. She and Ida had played ghosts in the graveyard for fun and had jumped in the freshly dug gravesto play hide-and-seek or spy on visitors. They’d used the hose to fill up a new grave and pretended it was their swimming pond.

They’d lured Ruth there once by slipping her a note signed with Clint’s name and asking her to meet him. When Ruth showed up, they’d run up behind her, blindfolded her and pushed her into the grave then tossed dirt on top of her. Ruth told her father who’d stormed over to their house and yelled at them, then threatened that if they ever did that again, he’d have the sheriff arrest them.

That night their daddy made them sleep outside in the graveyard as punishment. All night they’d listened and watched for the ghosts people claimed they saw rising from the graves and emerging like dark silhouettes from the toxic land beyond.

Hetty glanced toward the woods with worry. Dammit, she wished everyone would leave so she could sneak in there and check on her spot. A truck pulled up and parked near the garden, then that ranger jumped out, shading his eyes with his hand as he scanned the area.

Hetty’s stomach plummeted. Cord McClain.

She went bone still, their gazes locking as he recognized her. A nervous tremor rippled through Hetty. Having him back here took her back to the worst night of her life.

One she’d been running from ever since.

Finally she’d found peace through her nursery. But the ranger could blow it up in a skinny minute if he talked.

He gave a nod in recognition, then turned and headed into the woods. Their secrets lingered there in the shadows, secrets she wanted to keep hidden. Secrets he could spill. Ones that could destroy her and Ida.

What are you going to do about it, Hetty?

The answer came with no hesitation. Whatever I have to.

FIFTY-ONE

Briar Ridge Mobile Homes

Ellie and Derrick stopped by Hetty’s gardening center, The Green Thumb, and were told she was tending the graveyard so they found Ida’s address and drove to her house, a trailer in the mobile home park that looked as if it could use some touches from Hetty’s business. A cement birdbath looked ancient and unkempt with twigs and dead leaves overflowing it. The trailer needed new paint and a variety of ceramic rabbits dotted the flower garden which held dead flowers and weeds. Odd that her sister ran a gardening center, but Ida’s place looked lifeless, as if it had been abandoned.

“Is Ida married?” Ellie asked.

“Yes, to her high school sweetheart, Joe Jones,” Derrick said. “They have a daughter named Kat who’s fifteen.”

Ellie frowned. She’d seen Kat in the diner that day. “All our victims are between the age of thirteen and sixteen. Her mother must be worried.”

“Probably,” Derrick agreed.

Ellie knocked while Derrick surveyed the property like he always did when he first arrived. Being constantly on alert fortrouble and sizing up a place or situation went with the job, and Derrick was acutely observant.

He and Cord shared that trait.

The door squeaked open, and Ida stood there, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. Her frizzy, dull brown hair looked damp with sweat and flour dusted her apron.

“Mrs. Jones, I’m Detective Reeve and this is Special Agent Fox. May we come in?” Ellie asked.

Ida’s wary look skated over her and Derrick, then she bit her lower lip, nodded and waved them inside.