Page 113

ONE HUNDRED TWELVE

CROOKED CREEK POLICE STATION

As the day bled into late afternoon, Ellie was so anxious she was about to pull her hair out. Modelle still wasn’t talking.

She’d followed the sheriff to the police department where he’d locked Modelle into a cell. Cord stayed back on the farm to supervise the search, but so far, they hadn’t found any other bodies.

Were Mazie and Ivy still alive?

God, she hoped so. If not, she’d failed again and she might just hang up her badge.

She paced her office, knowing Modelle’s attorney was on the way, probably already planning his strategy to get the bastard off scott-free again.

Not happening though. They’d followed protocol, colored between the lines. The damn charges had to stick.

Her phone buzzed. The ME. She connected the call, anxious to hear what Laney had to say. “It’s Ellie. Tell me you have something. Please.” She hated the desperation in her voice.

“I’ll work on the autopsy on Claire Woodston tomorrow but I’ve already collected particulates beneath her nails so she put up a fight. Hopefully she got this maniac’s DNA. The ERT also found prints in the house. They’re running them now.”

Ellie breathed out. She just hoped that was soon although DNA analysis took time.

“What about the body at Modelle’s?” she asked.

A heartbeat passed. “Hard to be specific but the body is a female, approximately thirty-four when she died. She’s been dead for years.”

Ellie rubbed her temple as a lightning bulb went off in her head. “Modelle’s wife left town after she testified against Modelle. What if he tracked her down after he was released?”

“Makes sense,” Lacey said. “This is pure speculation, but from my preliminary exam, I’d say she died from blunt force trauma to the back of the head.”

Ellie pressed a hand over her temple where a headache was beginning to throb. Had Modelle killed his wife because she’d testified against him?