One Hundred Sixteen
Cypress Hill
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Cord asked, a half hour later, as she parked at the Approach Trail to hike up to the hill.
“No, but we don’t have time to waste and who gives a flying fuck what Bryce thinks?”
Her comment earned a smile from Cord.
Despite her bravado, she was pretty sure Bryce would push for her suspension, and Derrick would believe she was covering for Cord. They’d order her not to set off into the woods with bad weather on the way. But she didn’t have time to worry about their opinions. The ranger was her best bet at finding Shondra. That was what counted, she reassured herself as the trees shook violently in the wind, the threat of a tornado becoming more and more real.
“Why would he leave her in the midst of cypress trees?” Ellie asked.
“The dark green leaves of the cypress represent resurrection and immortality. The elongated form gives the appearance of—”
“Fingers pointing towards heaven,” Ellie finished. “My father brought me here when one of the kids at high school died suddenly. I was so angry because she’d been hit by a drunk driver, but Dad said we had to pray for everyone.”
What little sun had trickled through the cloud disappeared into the distance. Shadows flickered through the narrow paths between the endless rows of pines, oaks, and cypresses in the woods.
With the storm coming, the temperature felt colder here, the air danker, the sounds of the wild more prominent. Eyes peeled for trouble, they made their way into the woods in silence, picking up the pace as the swirling storm clouds gathered above the sharp ridges. The sound of falling rock echoed ahead, and water trickled down the side of the mountain wall.
They stopped briefly to check the map and note identifying markers along the way, Ellie using a compass to guide her.
Four miles in, Cord led her onto a shortcut heading west. They crossed an overflowing part of the creek that had demolished the foliage on the bank. The cloying scent of rotting vegetation filled the air, and the ground was slippery underfoot.
“Don’t look down,” Cord muttered as they reached a flimsy swinging bridge made of rope and board. Carefully, Ellie eased onto it, testing the fraying rope and carefully stepping over missing boards. She held her breath as she crept across it, and she didn’t have to look down to know that if she fell, she’d plunge headfirst into a rocky ravine.
The bridge swayed back and forth, making her dizzy, and she clutched the ropes to steady her footing. When they both made it over, they paused to catch their breaths then take a quick sip of water. Together they hacked away the dense foliage and kept climbing until they reached the summit near the falls. Ellie’s pulse raced again as they clambered over stumps, through briar patches, and along a narrow ridge.
As her foot hit a tree root, she nearly stumbled. Cord grabbed her arm and steadied her as they breathlessly crossed the next section. Up another punishing hill, around a steep curve, and… finally she saw the cypresses.
Her calf muscles strained as she raced up the hill, her heart pounding. Suddenly, the daffodils came into view.
Swallowing hard, Ellie bolted into a sprint and headed toward them.
One Hundred Seventeen
Bear Mountain
Derrick spotted the pick-up truck in the parking lot of a cheap motel on Bear Mountain.
The motel backed up to the forest, and the jagged mountain ridges rose behind it, trees swaying and dipping in the wind. Trash was being tossed across the tumbledown parking lot.
After Angelica’s newscast, Finton had to know that the police were looking for him.
Slowing, Derrick pulled into a space in front of the lobby. He inched his way along the front of the row of rooms. Judging from the dark interiors and lack of cars, many were empty. Lights were on in three units, but the vans, SUVs and noises inside indicated families, one with a barking dog.
Finton’s truck was parked in front of the last room. Derrick pulled his weapon as he reached the door, pausing to listen. Inside he heard footsteps pacing, then something crash.
The curtain was closed, blocking his view of the interior, and he raised his hand to knock, shouting, “FBI, Finton. Open up!”
The footsteps inside ceased, then something banged against the door. Stepping back, Derrick called out again. “Open up, Finton. FBI.”
He twisted the doorknob, but it was locked. There was more noise inside and Derrick raised his foot, kicking at the door. Once, twice, then he slammed his body against it and the door burst open. Inside, he nearly tripped over an overturned chair on the floor. Angry, he shoved it aside and spotted Finton’s back as he dashed through the room.
He looked bigger in person than the photo from the website, his broad body covered in a dark jacket and black pants, and his hair peeked out from beneath a black ski cap.
“Stop, Finton, or I’ll shoot.” Sprinting toward him, he jumped over the desk, which Finton had thrown into his path. Finton was already climbing out the back window.
Derrick caught the man’s leg. Finton kicked out but was dragged back inside and thrown on the floor. Wild-eyed, Finton threw a punch at Derrick, but the FBI agent dodged the blow and pressed his boot into the man’s chest, holding him down as he aimed the gun at the suspect’s head.
“Move again and this bullet will hit home.”
Grabbing his handcuffs, Derrick rolled the man over and snapped them on.
“I didn’t do anything,” Finton said.
“You defiled the corpses you were supposed to treat reverently. Then you became so obsessed with the dead, you decided to find out what it was like to watch them die, and you killed several women,” Derrick snarled. “I wouldn’t call that nothing.”
Eyes widening in horror, Finton spit out a protest. “I want a lawyer.”
Derrick yanked him up and formally arrested him. He’d take him to the station and then he’d make him talk. Maybe by the time they got there, the monster would realize he had no other choice.
As Derrick was pushing a handcuffed Finton in the back seat of his car, his phone rang.
“Special Agent Fox.”
“Is Ellie with you?”
The sheriff’s voice sounded angry, accusatory.
“No, I tracked down Finton’s truck at a motel on Bear Mountain. I’m about to bring him in. Why?”
“Because she fucking let McClain out of jail and took him with her to look for Shondra.”
“What?” Derrick’s temper flared, and he glanced back at Finton, who sneered at him. “Finton and Cord might be working together.”
“You’re preaching to the choir, Fox. I’m going to suggest Hale fire her ass when she gets back.”
So the sheriff was more enraged that she’d defied him than he was worried about her safety. Why did that not surprise him?
“Do you know where they are, Waters?”
“No, Ellie has a habit of going off on her own.”
He wanted to shake Ellie. Couldn’t she see that Cord was dangerous? If he was working with Finton, he could be leading Ellie to her death.
One Hundred Eighteen