All the Beautiful Brides
Read All the Beautiful Brides Online
Authors: Rita Herron
ALSO BY RITA HERRON
Romantic Suspense
Slaughter Creek Series
Dying to Tell
Her Dying Breath
Worth Dying For
Dying for Love
Contemporary Romance
Going to the Chapel
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2015 Rita Herron
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle
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ISBN-13: 9781503945500
ISBN-10: 1503945502
Cover design by Marc J. Cohen
To Mother
For all your loving support—you’ll always have my heart.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
“There’s been a murder in Graveyard Falls.”
Special Agent Cal Coulter pinched the bridge of his nose as his director’s words sank in. He’d been summoned to his boss’s office first thing for a new assignment on the task force he was spearheading to hunt down the most wanted criminals across the Southeast.
But Graveyard Falls? That was the little town Mona had moved to after Brent had died.
Brent, his best friend.
And Mona, the only woman he’d ever wanted.
When Brent had become romantic with her, Cal had honored their friendship by stepping out of the picture.
“I want you to head up the investigation,” Director Hiram Vance said, oblivious to his turmoil.
“Why are the Feds on this case?” Cal asked.
“You don’t know the history of that town,” Director Vance said. “For starters, it’s named after a big waterfall in the mountains. Thirty years ago, three teenage girls were murdered there, pushed off the falls and left in the elements with a rose stem jammed down their throats. They called the perp the ‘Thorn Ripper’ because the girls’ tongues and throats were bloody from the thorns.” Director Vance paused. “Each year the town holds a memorial service. That service is being held today.”
“So a murder occurred on the anniversary of the memorial,” Cal said, understanding dawning.
“Exactly.”
“The Thorn Ripper killer was never apprehended?”
“Yes, he was.” Director Vance flipped his laptop around to show Cal the screen. “This man, Johnny Pike, was convicted of the crimes. But he’s up for parole next week.”
“How’s that?”
“He was only eighteen at the time of his arrest. Due to his age and the controversy surrounding the case, the judge gave him life with the chance of parole after he served thirty years. That thirty years is up.”
Cal considered the timing. “You think this latest murder is connected to the Thorn Ripper?”
Director Vance ran a hand over his balding head. “That’s one thing I want you to find out. There are already protestors lining up to rally against Pike’s parole.”
“So someone could have killed the girl to cast doubt on Pike’s guilt? Are the MOs even the same?”
“All questions I want you to find the answers to.”
Now he understood. “All right. But odds are it’s just some local domestic. Girlfriend-boyfriend fight gone bad.”
“Could be,” Vance said. “But the Thorn Ripper case attracted a lot of publicity at the time. Pike could have developed a protégé or attracted a copycat. I need you to go to the town. Get the background on the MO, the victim. Talk to the locals. Find out if there is a connection to Pike.”
Cal stood. Any one of the theories was possible.
And if they didn’t solve the case soon, he could imagine the panic in Graveyard Falls.
Mona Monroe had moved to the small town of Graveyard Falls on a mission.
To find her birth mother.
She twisted the silver baby bootie charm on the chain around her neck, her stomach knotting. She wished she had more information.
But all she had was the envelope her parents’ lawyer had given her after their death. The letter explained that her birth mother had lived in this town. Inside, she also found a yellowed sales slip from a gift store in Graveyard Falls where the charm had been bought. It was dated the same year as the Thorn Ripper murders.
She still couldn’t believe it. Her whole life had been a lie.
But she was determined to unearth the truth.
She parked at the Baptist church, which was holding the memorial service for the Thorn Ripper victims. Every March the town honored the girls.
She’d heard the story. Three pretty, popular girls who were loved by everyone had been killed shortly before their senior prom and graduation. Just as winter barreled on with frigid temperatures and snowstorms this year, it had refused to leave the mountains back then. Outside it felt more like January than two weeks before spring.
The football star Johnny Pike had been convicted of the murders. Although Mona had never heard
anyone say he had a clear motive. Just that he was a psychopath.
Apparently her mother had given birth to her months after the murders occurred. She also could have known Johnny Pike and the victims.
Whether she’d stayed in Graveyard Falls or moved away was the question.
But if she had stayed, she might be attending this memorial.
Would Mona recognize her if she saw her? See some family resemblance?
Probably not. But it was worth a shot.
If she got to know some of the locals, maybe she’d find out exactly who she was.
She pressed a hand to her stomach, feeling the loss of her own child deep down in her bones. She’d wanted that baby so badly, but a miscarriage had stolen it from her.
She would never have given up her child.
She had to know the reason her own mother had.
Cal pulled up a summary of the Thorn Ripper case to study it before he got on the road.
He had his job cut out for him just to keep this recent murder out of the press before he could absorb the details. He wanted to avoid panic and sensationalism, and he needed time to analyze the situation before the reporters starting dogging him.
Information about the Thorn Ripper filled his computer screen: three girls, all homecoming royalty, murdered, found at the base of the waterfall, the stem of a blood-red rose jammed down their throats.
Johnny Pike, football star and voted “Most Likely to Succeed,” arrested by local sheriff Ned Buckley. A well of circumstantial evidence had been found implicating the young man, who was now serving his sentence in a maximum-security prison.
Although Pike had pleaded not guilty and claimed he was framed, at the last minute he’d accepted a controversial plea bargain to be eligible for parole in thirty years.
The serial killer had torn the town apart years ago. Was this homicide related?
Cal closed his laptop, then carried it to his vehicle and started the drive toward Graveyard Falls. The sun fought to shine through the gray clouds hovering above, giving the mountains a gloomy feel.
On his way out of Knoxville, he drove past the cemetery where Brent was buried.
But Cal couldn’t bring himself to stop.
Because the secrets he’d harbored for his buddy were eating him up.
It had only been three months since Brent had been in that fatal car accident. Cal had attended the funeral. How could he not?
They had been like brothers. He’d known Brent since they were kids in foster care together. Brent had taken beatings for him when they were little.
He’d owed him . . .
But things had changed the last few years. Now Cal’s grief was mixed with animosity.
And resentment that Brent had married Mona.
Dark clouds rolled in, threatening sleet as he turned on the country road toward the small town. Dead leaves swirled across the highway, broken and crumbling like ashes against the snowy ground.
The mountain roads were treacherous, and his tires skated on the black ice from the last storm. Trees stood so close together and thick on the ridges that they looked ominous, like soldiers guarding the dark secrets in their depths.
Some said the devil lived inside these mountain walls. That the mountain men were his followers.
Ten minutes later, Cal was still trying to shake off his bad mood as he parked at the clearing for tourists who came to hike the falls.
Tugging his coat around him, he yanked on gloves and started through the path, grateful he’d worn boots. Spring should be coming soon with budding trees and flowers, but just as the groundhog had predicted, winter had relentlessly stayed.
He’d thought the gossip about hearing the dead girls’ screams echoing off the mountain was just local folklore. But dammit, the screech of the wind sounded exactly like a woman crying.
Hemlocks, oaks, and white pines covered acres, magnolias and rhododendrons surrounding the base of the falls, where the water formed a deep pool. It was a good two-mile hike to the top with the 250-foot waterfalls creating 20-foot cascades, and a dramatic 130-foot drop-off at the lowest base.
Voices sounded ahead.
He spotted a dark-haired man in a deputy’s uniform talking to a young guy, probably college aged, dressed in hiking gear. North Face jacket, custom boots, and an insulated backpack—the kid came from money. He also had a high-tech camera slung around his neck.
Cal parted the limbs, fresh snow pelting him from the branches. He came to a halt, his stomach knotting as he spotted the victim.
A young woman lay at the edge of the falls, her head positioned on a jagged rock as if it were a pillow, her dress in folds around her legs, the lace wet from the water.
But it was the wedding gown and red rose that made him go cold.
The white dress was torn, marred in mud now, and a lacy garter was around her neck.
Even more disturbing—the flower petals of the rose were torn off, lying nearby, the end of the stem extending from her mouth, the rest likely crammed down her throat just like the Thorn Ripper had done thirty years ago.
