The sound of the forensics van rumbled outside, and he tore his eyes away from a stricken-looking Ellie to greet the team at the door. The shock on the techs’ faces said they were just as disgusted by Finton’s activities as he and Ellie were.
Suddenly Ellie looked down at her phone, pivoting towards him.
“We have to go. A Jane Doe was brought to Bluff County Hospital. Possible victim of the Weekday Killer.”
One Hundred Six
Bluff County Hospital
Dark clouds rolled across the sky, obliterating the stars, and the wind gusts ferociously picked up as Ellie parked at the Bluff County Hospital. A piece of trash tumbled across the parking lot, the wind slapping at the overhead power lines.
“Why do they think she might be one of our vics?” Derrick asked.
“They aren’t sure.” Ellie re-read the text. “But according to the doctor, she has bruises consistent with being restrained and held captive.”
Pulling up her hood, she climbed from her vehicle, hoping the twisters that had been barreling through the south didn’t decide to sweep through the mountains here. Some were so strong they took out entire neighborhoods and dropped trees like they were matchsticks.
They rushed to the nurses’ station, and Derrick explained who they’d come to visit. Hurrying to the second floor where the woman had been admitted, they spoke with the attending doctor. “Do you have an ID yet?” Ellie asked.
“No, but we immediately contacted the authorities and they’re circulating her picture to see if anyone comes forward to identify her. We’ve also collected blood samples and DNA.”
“Thank you for being on top of the situation. What can you tell us about her condition?” Derrick asked.
The doctor frowned. “Judging from the bruising on her wrists and ankles and the whip marks on her back, she was physically restrained and abused. She was unconscious when she was brought in. Her nails were torn, and the scrapes on her body indicated she’d fought through the woods to escape. Bug bites, bruising and scratches are consistent with the fact that she was found by the river. She was soaking wet when she was found. With no ID and judging from her condition, I had to report her.” The doctor fiddled with her stethoscope. “The deputy I spoke with thinks she might be one of the Weekday Killer’s victims. Is that right?’
“That’s what we’re here to find out,” Ellie said. “Can we see her now?”
The doctor nodded. “This way. But don’t expect her to talk. She’s been severely traumatized, is suffering from hypothermia and had water in her lungs.”
Walking over to the bed, Ellie looked down at the pale brunette. Bruises marked her neck, hands and arms, and a thick purple mark roped around her neck, consistent with the other victims. An IV dripped fluids into her, and oxygen tubes fed air to her.
“How serious is her condition?” Ellie asked. The poor woman looked as if she’d been through hell.
“The hiker who found her said she’d either fallen or jumped over a hundred feet into the river. She hit rocks when she landed, sustained multiple injuries and a concussion. We’re checking for other internal injuries. At this point, all we can do is run tests and wait.”
One Hundred Seven
While Ellie waited for the young woman, praying for her to wake up, she made a trip to her mother’s room––relieved that she could at least check in while she was here. She hesitated at the door, her gut churning as her mother struggled to breathe.
“She needs the surgery,” her father said. “I’m waiting on her to wake up to tell her.”
Ellie blinked away tears. “Let me know if she comes to. They brought in a woman who might be a victim of our killer. She’s unconscious but hopefully can tell us something when she regains consciousness.”
“Be careful, El,” her father said.
“Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself,” she replied, her voice thick with emotion as she tore herself away from the room.
Back in the victim’s room, she got a text update from Captain Hale.
Have IDs on both Wednesday’s child and Thursday’s child. Victim three is Samantha Jennings. According to a neighbor, she cheated on her husband, triggering him to commit suicide, but instead of mourning him, she seemed relieved he was gone.
That explained the killer carving the heart into her chest—to indicate she didn’t have one.
Victim four, Thursday’s child, was thirty-two-year-old Valerie Patterson. She was accused of killing her father when she was twenty, but got probation on the grounds that he’d molested her as a child and had then tried to molest her own daughter.
Ellie hissed. That explained the Ten Commandments, although the homicide sounded justified. The lowlife man should have been castrated.
It also lent credence to their theory that this man had a God complex and assigned himself as judge, jury and executioner. But how did he have so much personal information about the victims before he’d taken them?
Turning towards the latest victim, Ellie spoke softly. “I’m so sorry for what happened to you. When you wake up and tell me who hurt you, I’ll make sure he pays.”
As Shondra’s face flashed in her mind, she had the sickest feeling that time was running out for her friend, that she was missing something. But what? Her head hurt with it all.
Derrick returned, pushing a cup of coffee into her hand. “They’re analyzing Finton’s computer. Although it’s odd that we found nothing about the trail in his place—no maps, no notes about locations and their meanings. That seems to be McClain’s territory.”
She bit down on her lower lip. Why would Cord kill those women and taunt her with the crimes? Why would he take Shondra? They’d always been friendly.
Which meant Shondra might have gone with him if he’d asked, a little voice in her head whispered.
But no…
Derrick’s phone beeped, and he checked an incoming text. “Well, this is something. We have an ID for Jane Doe.”
“Who is she?” Ellie asked, her pulse jumping.
“Her name is Kennedy Sledge.”
One Hundred Eight
Ellie gasped. “This isn’t Kennedy Sledge.”
“What?” Derrick handed her his phone. “Yes, it is. There’s a photo of her on LinkedIn with her business profile and her prints matched.”
Stunned, Ellie’s mind raced, and she quickly punched Heath’s number. “Heath, check and see if any of the victims saw a therapist. Look for the name Kennedy Sledge.”
“On it.”
“And get me her home and business address.”
“Will send ASAP.”
“What’s going on?” Derrick asked as she hung up.
“If this is Kennedy Sledge, then someone else is using her identity and credentials to see patients.” Unsuspecting women like her, who unknowingly spilled their guts to a stranger.
“How do you know that?”
Ellie spun around, her mind racing. “After what happened with my family, Shondra encouraged me to talk to a counselor. She’d been seeing one because of her family’s reaction to her sexuality.” She exhaled. No wonder he’d taken Shondra. “Oh, my word,” she muttered. “That’s how he knew all about me. What makes me tick, what triggers me, about the dolls and Hiram and Cord and my friendship with Shondra.” She’d unknowingly told the bastard everything.