Page 68

SIXTY-SEVEN

KNOTTY PINE HILL

Ellie found Derrick in her office, deep in concentration. The tension between them was palpable as he looked up at her, but neither addressed the elephant in the room—the confrontation with Cord.

“I looked for an address for Rosalyn Birmingham and talked to her former boss but apparently she has no home address. She may be homeless.”

Ellie’s stomach twisted. It was dangerous for a woman to be alone on the streets with a small child.

“But I have one for Claire Woodston.” Derrick stood. “Let’s go.”

Ellie nodded, grateful to be back to business. The skies grew gray again as they got in her Jeep and Ellie wound around the switchbacks. They passed an old fishing lodge, a series of rental cabins, an RV campground and a mobile home park before she turned onto a dirt road that was so narrow there was no way two cars could pass each other without one having to pull aside.

A steep drop-off overlooked the river below which narrowed to an impassable staircase of jagged rocks. Ellie knew the area and that the river split and flowed into smaller creeks that ran through the Appalachian Mountains.

Ellie turned on the defroster to clear the windows of the foggy mist. Derrick called Claire again, but the phone was dead. “What do we know about Claire?” Ellie asked.

“That the twins in our morgue are the same as the girls in the photo with Claire and Barbara.”

“And that Barbara is their biological mother, but Claire could have adopted them.” Of course, all this was speculation, Ellie thought. They needed proof that the twins belonged to Claire.

“I didn’t find adoption records to indicate an adoption,” Derrick said.

“It could have been a private closed adoption with everyone signing confidentiality and nondisclosure agreements.”

“True. And either the women knew each other at the time or Barbara gave up the girls and Claire adopted them, then later Barb tracked them down.”

More questions pummeled Ellie. “If Barbara decided she wanted the girls back, she might have tried to take them.”

“If she did, why kill them?”

“Good point.” Derrick tapped his fingers on his computer. “So who would?”

Ellie swerved to avoid a deer crossing the street. “Tell me more about Claire’s husband.”

“Husband’s name is Joel. He’s a phlebotomist with Coal Mountain Hospital.”

She rounded a curve and spotted the couple’s house atop a hill, pine trees swaying in the wind. The sharp turrets of the Victorian and the tiny attic window reminded Ellie of a haunted house. For a brief second, she thought she saw a figure, just a shadowy silhouette, staring out at them. But she blinked and it was gone.

The Jeep chugged up the drive, gravel and slush spewing. Ellie scanned the property, noting a mini-van parked beneath a detached garage. The lights were off inside the house, gray clouds above adding to the ominous feel.

She pulled the Jeep to the side of the garage.

Moving on, she and Derrick followed the path to the front door. The stairs to the porch creaked as they climbed them, and Ellie knocked on the door. They waited several seconds then she banged the door knocker and called out, “Police, please open up.”

Derrick stepped to the right and peered through the window. “I don’t see anyone inside.”

Ellie jiggled the door and it swung open. Although she and Derrick proceeded with caution, her boots sounded on the dark wood floor and somewhere in the house she heard a noise as if a shutter had come loose and was flapping back and forth.

The sound of a clock ticking punctuated the air which smelled like furniture polish and… bleach.

The kind of strong chemical smell that permeated a room after a crime scene clean-up.