All the Beautiful Brides (12 page)

He knelt at a pew in the church he’d attended since he was a kid. Granted, his mama didn’t take him regularly ’cause she’d been sick so much. But when he was little, they’d come every time the doors were open.

He’d been so scared when he was little he’d nearly peed himself when that big preacher had stalked up and down the aisles, hunting for someone to save.

Preacher would shout and pound the pulpit, sweat streaming down his ruddy cheeks, then he’d comb the aisles, stopping to glare at the children, at the men and women, at anyone he thought might have strayed from God that week.

Sometimes the preacher lingered on his face as if he thought Will was evil just because he didn’t have a daddy.

But Mama was dying, and Will didn’t know where else to turn. Maybe if he prayed hard enough, the good Lord wouldn’t take her from him.

Tears choked his throat, and he gulped them back, snot bubbling in his nose. Sometimes at night when he lay there in that big metal bed by himself, he cried like a baby. He didn’t know how he’d go on without her.

You have to find a wife.

Then he wouldn’t be alone.

He wiped his nose with his sleeve and glanced up to see that girl Josie DuKane kneeling at the pew across from him. He’d heard the preacher talking to her and asking her name. Her head was bowed, her lips moving as she prayed.

There was something about her that seemed so familiar. Her cheekbones? They were high . . . Her eyes an odd shade of green. And she had pretty hair. The wavy brown strands fell down her back, making him itch to run his hands through it.

She looked up at him then, and her gaze met his. Her cheeks looked flushed from the cold, and she lifted her scarf and tied it around her head.

“You look sad,” she said softly.

He didn’t like to talk about his mama, but she sounded so kind that he decided to open up. “My mama’s ill.”

“I’m so sorry.” She knelt beside him and covered his hand with hers. “I was praying for my grandfather. My mother and I came back to Graveyard Falls to take care of him because he’s sick, too. But he doesn’t seem to like me.”

How could he not like her? She was beautiful and sweet, and she cared about family.

Would she be a good wife? “Can you cook?” he asked.

She looked startled by the question. “Yes, why?”

A slow smile curved his mouth. “Just wondering.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Cal didn’t have time to drive Mona home, so he let her ride with him to the falls. But he tried to convince her to stay in the car.

“Maybe I can help,” Mona said as she climbed out to follow him.

He couldn’t argue with her reasoning. This was the second murder within three days. If they were dealing with a serial killer, he needed all the help he could get.

Because the killer could already be hunting for another victim.

But hell, part of him didn’t want her anywhere near this mess. Whoever the unsub was, he was dangerous, and Mona already had enough trouble on her tail.

That man Whit was a loose cannon, and Mona had pissed him off.

Cal didn’t intend to leave her unguarded again.

Mona stumbled on a vine, and Cal caught her arm, helping her down the slope. Again, he was struck by the fact that the unsub must be strong to carry his victims to the base of the falls, where the water pooled before continuing downstream over the jagged ridges and rocks.

Icy wind bit at his cheeks, and Mona tugged the ski cap she’d retrieved from her office over her ears. It was so damn cold he felt like the hairs on the back of his neck were literally freezing.

Mona gasped when they made it to the clearing. Sheriff Buckley was standing beside the body, his hat tilted askew on his head, his face chapped from the cold. Deputy Kimball was already assessing the scene.

What the hell? He thought Buckley had retired.

The white wedding gown caught his eye, although it nearly blended with the snowy ground. God, the woman looked angelic with her blonde hair and that satin dress.

Except that the whites of her eyes showed reddish spots of blood called petechial hemorrhaging, her irises shockingly wide, her mouth frozen in a scream.

Mona’s breathing rattled in the silence as they crossed the remaining distance to the victim, and he realized she was taking deep breaths. Had she ever seen a dead body?

“I’m sorry, Mona, I told you it wouldn’t be pretty.”

“I can’t imagine doing that to another human. And she’s so . . . young.”

Yeah. She’d had her entire life ahead of her. But this maniac had stolen it from her before she’d had a chance to live out her dreams.

Cal hadn’t officially met the former sheriff, so he introduced himself. “And this is Mona Monroe.”

“Yes, I saw her at the memorial service,” Sheriff Buckley said with a scowl.

“Who found this woman?” Cal asked.

“I did,” Sheriff Buckley replied.

Cal’s pulse quickened. What had the sheriff been doing in these woods? “How did that happen? Did you get a tip?”

“No, but I started thinking that if this killer was copying the Thorn Ripper, there would be another victim, so I decided to revisit the area.”

He didn’t know whether to be irritated that the sheriff had decided to check the falls or to question his involvement. They’d need to get officers out here to monitor the area. “I thought you retired.”

Sheriff Buckley shot him a condescending look. “Once a cop, always a cop. Graveyard Falls is still my home.”

“And you were here during the original murders,” Cal said.

“Exactly. I don’t aim to let another serial killer destroy this town.”

Mona felt uncomfortable around the former sheriff, although she didn’t know why.

The medical examiner arrived, and the men gathered around the body.

“Cause of death appears to be asphyxiation due to strangulation just like Gwyneth Toyton, but I’ll verify it with the autopsy.” Dr. Wheeland opened the victim’s mouth and examined her tongue and throat. “Thorns are embedded in her tongue and throat same as the first victim. Her teeth are bloodstained, so she bled from biting the thorns while he strangled her.”

Revulsion filled Mona. Why would a man force a woman to bite on a thorny rose as he killed her? Was it his way of keeping her quiet? Of making her suffer because she’d rejected him?

“Did anyone ever ask Johnny Pike why he used the rose?” Mona asked.

Sheriff Buckley cleared his throat. “According to town tradition, the high school boys gave a girl a rose when they asked her to prom.”

Was killing the girls his way of saying he didn’t want to go with them? Definitely excessive behavior.

“Did they ever do a psychological exam on Pike?” Mona asked.

Sheriff Buckley shrugged. “Lawyer talked about pleading insanity, but it was clear that Pike was lucid, not insane.”

She still didn’t understand Johnny’s motive. “Did he have problems with his mother? Had he ever been abused?”

“Listen, Ms. Monroe,” the sheriff said in a tone laced with disdain. “We’re not here to probe Pike’s mind. We’ve got a killer to find.”

Dr. Wheeland checked the victim’s wrists and ankles, and Mona cringed at the sight of the bruises and raw skin. “It also appears that her foot was bound with a heavy chain.”

“How about time of death?”

“TOD was sometime last night.” He gestured toward marks on the back of her neck. “Looks like he used a stun gun on her as well.”

Cal knelt. “The dress, the garter, the cut hair, the red lipstick smeared on her lips . . . it’s the same MO.” Even though the reporter had revealed the information about the rose and wedding gown, no one but the killer, the investigators, and the people who’d found the bodies would know all the other details.

Dr. Wheeland lifted the woman’s head and searched inside the back of her dress. “No tag. This gown looks homemade as well.”

A shiver rippled through Mona. “Are they family heirlooms?”

“We don’t know yet. They could be, or he could have purchased them. We’re looking into that angle.” Cal stood and glanced at the medical examiner. “You said you found DNA where the unsub kissed Gwyneth. Make sure you check for saliva on this girl’s cheek as well.”

He gestured toward her hands. “How about her fingernails? Do you think you can get any forensics there?”

Dr. Wheeland scraped beneath her nails, and his brow puckered as he sniffed her fingers. “Her fingernails have pieces of eggshells beneath them.” He indicated a particle he’d extracted.

“Eggshells?” Cal frowned. “They were cooking or eating before he killed her?”

Dr. Wheeland arched a brow. “That’s possible.”

But not much of a lead. “We need an ID.” He turned back to the sheriff. “Do you recognize her?”

“No,” Buckley said.

Cal approached the crime team and instructed them to search the area for the victim’s purse, ID, and any evidence they could find.

A growing horror rose inside Mona. The killer had obviously gotten away with murder the first time, likely had even enjoyed the kill.

“What are you thinking?” Cal asked.

She rubbed her hands together to warm them. “I think he may be suffering from delusions. He’s a loner and keeps to himself, probably lives off the grid. If he’s trying to satisfy some fantasy in his mind, he won’t stop until he finds the woman who can fulfill that delusion. He wants her to look like a woman in his past, maybe a former girlfriend or someone who rejected him. In some cases of abuse, he may be fixated on his mother.”

“You mean he wants someone like her, but he also hates her?”

“I would only be guessing, but yes.”

“It may be too early to tell if he has a type,” Cal said.

Mona stared at the body. “So none of the females in Graveyard Falls are safe.”

“I’m afraid not.” Cal held back a torrent of curses. It was his job to protect them. “Do you think this man could convince a woman to go with him willingly?” he asked.

Mona scrunched her face as she considered it. “It’s possible he’s handsome, maybe even charming. Or he’s the opposite, the quiet, mysterious type who draws women. But he doesn’t stand out in any way, not overtly.”

“So no one notices him?” Cal said.

“Exactly. He’s probably quiet and unassuming. He blends in, and no one suspects what he’s capable of.”

“You think he’s another teenager like Johnny Pike was?” Sheriff Buckley asked.

Mona shook her head. “If he was, he would probably choose younger victims like high schoolers. Looking at the profile of the victims, he chooses young, single women in their twenties. The fact that he puts them in wedding dresses suggests he’s around their age, maybe a little older. Early thirties. He’s looking for a wife, so he may have never been married, or like we talked about earlier, he could have recently lost his wife. Something triggered his need to marry now, though.”

“Hopefully the homemade wedding dresses will lead to something,” Cal said, frustrated. “But we need more.”

Mona winced as the medical examiner studied the girl’s bare feet. “I wonder what he does with the clothes the women were wearing before he changed them.”

Cal shrugged. “We didn’t find anything at the first scene. Maybe he disposes of them or keeps them as part of his trophies. We think he took a charm bracelet from Gwyneth Toyton. Once we ID this victim, we can ask her family if she’s missing anything.”

“Pike took a piece of jewelry from his victims, too,” Sheriff Buckley said. “That’s one thing we never recovered.”

One of the CSIs shouted that he’d found a partial boot print by a damp muddy spot, but the water from the falls had washed most of it away. Another found a small piece of tattered lace from the dress that must have caught on a branch when the unsub carried her through the woods.

Cal pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know we’ve been thinking that the killer is trying to mimic Pike’s MO to get attention. What if Pike being up for parole is the trigger, and he started killing to remind everyone how much horror Pike caused, by making the town relive that fear?”

Mona contemplated that theory. “That would make sense.”

“You want me to check out the family members of the original victims?” Deputy Kimball asked.

“Yeah, get a list together and start talking to them,” Cal said.

Sheriff Buckley cleared his throat. “I know the families, and none of them would do this.”

Cal frowned. “How can you be so sure?”

“These are my people,” Sheriff Buckley said. “I’ve known them for years.”

The sheriff was obviously defensive of the locals. And he probably didn’t want anyone questioning the original case—the case that had made him a hero.

“One thing to keep in mind is that this killer may have had psychotic tendencies growing up,” Mona said. “Oftentimes, serial killers start out killing animals when they’re young.”

“Maybe he hunted with a father or uncle?” Deputy Kimball suggested.

“He could have grown up hunting,” Mona agreed. “But even if he didn’t, he may have enjoyed cold-bloodedly killing just to watch an animal suffer.” Mona paused. “You might contact the schools for kids who acted out, maybe ones with juvenile records. If he’s in his early thirties now, I’d go back fifteen to twenty years.”

“I’ll have the lab look at that,” Cal said.

Mona glanced at her watch, and he realized she needed to get back to town for her radio show.

“I’ll check prisons and mental hospitals for recent releases.” He punched Peyton’s number, anxious to get started.

The killer might already have abducted his next victim.

Josie DuKane had a strange feeling about the young man praying in the pew near her. He seemed so humble, nice . . . a little unsure of himself. But he obviously cared about his mother or he wouldn’t be in church praying for her.