Realizing with horror what he planned to do, she struggled with the collar around her neck, yanking and twisting, desperate to free herself. She could see a funnel cloud in the distance, the trees rocking in the wind.
Burton grabbed a gas can and began to spread gasoline all around the edge of the house, dousing the sticks and steps to the porch.
“No!” Ellie cried, knowing that Shondra was still inside.
His laugh punctuated the air as he stepped back, lit a match and tossed it onto the pile. One match after another.
Terror assaulted her as the flames began to spark and spread.
Then he snatched the duffel bag, threw it over his shoulder and returned to unchain her from the fence. She fought, digging in her heels, to try to go back to Shondra. But it was useless. He hauled her into the forest behind the house, and she knew her time was running out.
One Hundred Forty
North Georgia
Derrick swerved onto the shoulder of the road to dodge a tree branch that crashed down, speeding toward the farm. Black clouds raged in the sky, and fierce winds careened through the woods.
The wind beat at the car, knocking him sideways, as if it might lift his vehicle and send it sailing through the air. Clenching the steering wheel, he pulled it back onto the road away from the rocky mountain wall.
Ahead, above the jagged peaks, he saw the clouds spinning and realized he was heading into the eye of the storm. There was no way a chopper could fly overhead now. It was too dangerous.
Praying he wasn’t too late, he flew around a curve, but almost lost control and went skidding over the ravine.
A loud roaring rent the air, and suddenly a pine limb was falling through the air, straight at his windshield.
Derrick swerved to avoid it, but the branch struck the passenger side of his car, shattered the window and sent him skidding. A second later, metal crunched and glass sprayed him as the car flipped onto its side.
One Hundred Forty-One
Somewhere on the AT
“It’s almost a shame to end this with you,” Burton said to Ellie. “It’s been so much fun watching you chase your tail and fail.”
Ellie’s body ached from the beating he’d given her, but she stifled her emotions. No time for self-pity. She had to get away from him, go back and get Shondra’s body out of that house. Her friend deserved a proper burial.
He dragged her through thorn bushes, poison oak and past a barbed wire fence that tore at her clothing, then down a hill behind the old house. Smoke billowed in the air in thick rolling waves of gray, and flames shot toward the dark sky.
Dried brush crackled and twigs snapped, the damp moss adding to the smoke.
The tornado was almost on top of them, the wind making him sway on his feet, almost tumbling down the hill. She clawed at his leg to trip him, but he kicked her hard and she collapsed.
Glaring down at her, he laughed. “Do you know where I’ve chosen to leave you?”
She shook her head. “Tell me, Hugh. I want to hear everything. Tell me why you chose the rhymes.”
“Well,” he said, his eyes hollow black holes, “my mama used to say that rhyme to me all the time. She’d point out all the girls and talk about how good they were. But Daddy told me the truth. They weren’t what they seemed at all. Just like you aren’t, and all the other women I picked to die.”
“Was your daddy mean to you?” she asked. “Are you one of those poor little boys who could never live up to Daddy’s expectations? Did he beat you or lock you in the closet or starve you like those crooks do to turn dogs into fighters?”
Gripping her chin with one hand, Burton squeezed so hard that she thought her jaw might crack.
“My daddy was a real man. And no, he didn’t beat me. But he made sure my mama knew her place.”
“So she was helpless,” Ellie said. “And you watched.”
Burton chuckled. “He had to teach me to be a man. That’s what fathers do. Now you’re going to be laid on the daffodils, because unlike Sunday’s child, who is bonny and gay, you’re ugly and cold. You and your stubborn pride. You’d let your own mother die before you’d forgive her.”
Hurt swelled inside her, but an image of Vera lying helpless in bed, hooked to machines that were keeping her alive, taunted her.
“Good fathers don’t beat their wives or children. They’re loving and kind and lead by example,” she said, pushing aside the thought.
“Like your daddy?”
Ellie pressed her lips together to keep from spitting at him. “What would your mother say about you now? Would she be proud of the man you’ve become?”
“My mother was nothing but a bitch. She left me with him,” he snapped. “Walked out on us one day––her own husband and son. And when my father went after her, punishing her like she deserved, she killed him. Just like Cathy walked out on me and killed my little girl. Just like you killed my baby girl. And you expect me to like women? You all deserve to die.”
A tree branch splintered, crashing in their path. Dodging it, he dragged her toward an old well.
“The well is underground, the devil’s underbelly,” he murmured. “It’s the closest thing to Satan and the furthest place from heaven. That’s where you’ll spend eternity. Unfortunately for you, no one will ever find your body out here.”
Fear coursed through her. He was right.
With his thumb under her chin, he tilted her head up. “Maybe I won’t cut your throat after all. Maybe I’ll just put you down there and let you rot.”
Keeping a firm grip on the chain, he thrust her toward the edge of the well. Then he opened his duffel bag. A bag of daffodils, the petals browning, sat inside, along with a vine of bramble.
“Why the daffodils?” Ellie asked.
Pure evil raged in his eyes. “Because they’re the flower of the underworld and that’s where you and Cathy belong.”
The sharp blade of a knife glinted in the darkness.
It was now or never.
Mustering all her strength, Ellie gripped the collar with one hand, diving for the knife. He swung it toward her and the blade sliced at her arm, pain rippling through her, but she used both hands and every ounce of her courage to grab the knife handle. They fought, the chain tightening, and he punched her in the ribs. With all her force, she lifted her leg and kicked him in the groin.
Their hands were still twined together around the knife as they struggled to take control, and they rolled across the ground. Releasing one hand from the knife, Ellie jabbed him in the eyes. He hollered in pain and momentarily loosened his grip, long enough for her to snatch the blade handle.
He grabbed at her, but she clenched the weapon and brought it down. The blade connected with his cheek and sent blood spurting. The next jab went to his chest. As he staggered to the side, she pushed him down, pressed the knife to his neck and tried to wrangle the keys to the chain from his belt.
Somehow, he managed to flip her over. Suddenly on top of her, he pulled Ellie’s own gun from his waistband.
Summoning every ounce of force she possessed, she bucked him off and the gun slid across the wet ground. She crawled toward it. He snagged her foot but she grabbed the gun, rolled over and fired.