Page 55

FIFTY-FOUR

BIRCH LANE

Despite her mounting fear, Ellie managed to maneuver the winding switchbacks and keep the vehicle on the road. Off the beaten path, there was very little traffic, save for people who lived here or rented one of the vacation cabins. She wondered why Delilah had chosen to live in such an isolated area.

Derrick looked up from his tablet as she turned onto the road leading to Delilah’s.

“Delilah Short was forty years old, divorced for twelve years, has two children ages fourteen and twelve who she shares custody with her ex-husband Jonas.”

“What did she do for a living?”

Derrick pulled a hand down his chin. “She was a therapist at a family counseling center called Serene Living.”

Ellie spotted a black sedan in front of the house and eased up close to it. The car was empty but she saw two kids who were possibly Delilah’s children on the front porch, huddled beside a tall dark-haired man who had his arms wrapped around them.

A squad car from the local police department was first to arrive and an officer stood guard at the front door, securing the scene.

“It looks like the family may have found her,” Ellie said, her breath catching.

“Poor kids,” Derrick agreed quietly.

Ellie parked and she and Derrick climbed out, scanning the area. No other cars and no houses close enough to have seen what had happened. Still, they’d have the officer canvass the nearby cabins in case someone saw a vehicle at the house or speeding past their property as if leaving the crime scene.

The man on the porch looked up at them with a grim, shocked expression, tightening his arms around the children.

Derrick introduced them, and the man confirmed he was Delilah’s ex-husband.

“Can you tell us what happened?” Ellie asked.

Jonas wiped a hand over his face and murmured for the kids to sit in the car. The girl was sobbing, her brother sporting a shocked look that tore at Ellie’s heartstrings. But they did as he said, looking relieved to put some distance between them and the house. She gestured for the husband to also move away from the door.

Jonas cleared his throat. “I was bringing the kids back from Winterfest where we spent the day. Libby won a cake at the cake walk and was getting it out of the car,” he said. “I went in and… found Delilah.” His voice cracked.

“No one else was here?” Ellie asked.

He shook his head no. “I… smelled blood the minute I went inside. I called out Delilah’s name but… she didn’t answer. I had a bad feeling and… started looking for her and found her by the back kitchen door.” He took a deep breath. “She was… on the floor, not moving…” His sob filled the cold air with deep sorrow. “There was so much blood.”

Ellie glanced at the officer who gave a nod of confirmation. Derrick stayed with the husband to question him further and she stepped over to the officer at the door.

He kept his voice low. “It’s bad in there.”

Ellie braced herself. “Did you touch anything?”

He shook his head. “I know better.”

“Did you see anything when you arrived? A car or tire tracks?”

The officer spoke, “There are some tracks in the driveway, but they’re pretty messed up with the slush.”

Ellie saw them and agreed, although hopefully ERT could determine something by them.

“Check in with Agent Fox and see if there’s anyone the husband wants to call, maybe a family member to help with the kids. I’ll call the ERT and ME.”

The officer left his post to join Derrick and the husband. Ellie made the calls as she waited for Derrick, then gloved up. Derrick strode toward her, yanking on his own gloves, then pulled out his phone camera.

Inside, the floor creaked and it was dark. The living room looked clear, but she spotted the kitchen from the front door. Wet spots from melted snow dotted the wood floor as she made her way to the kitchen. The sound of dripping water sounded eerie as if counting off the seconds.

The stench of death was so strong she pressed her hand over her mouth to stifle a gag. Exhaling and blinking away the trauma of the gore she was looking at, she scanned the small kitchen. Blood spattered the walls and floor and pooled beneath the woman who lay face down, her hand reaching toward the garage door as if she’d been crawling to it before the fatal blow took her life.