All the Beautiful Brides (30 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

THREE WEEKS LATER

Mona and her new family had spent almost every minute together for the last three weeks, sharing stories and getting to know each other.

Today it would be official. Anna and Johnny were getting married.

“It’s time,” Josie said as she clasped Mona’s hand, and they rushed to the dressing room at the small church where Anna and Johnny had decided to exchange their vows.

The town had been shocked to learn Johnny had been framed, saddened at the miscarriage of justice, and relieved the Bride Killer had been caught. The residents of Graveyard Falls were safe again.

Johnny hopefully would be awarded some monetary compensation from the state, but that would take time. Mona had given up the radio talk show, needing time to process all that had happened.

She and Josie slipped into their places as bridesmaids.

Anna’s father, Mona’s grandfather, wasn’t invited. He had moved into an assisted living home. Anna was still struggling to forgive her father for his likely part in Johnny’s arrest and for shaming her into giving up Mona.

Mona smiled as the piano music began, and she and Josie walked down the aisle. When Anna and Johnny joined hands and exchanged vows, thirty years overdue, tears trickled down her face.

She’d never been as happy as she was at that moment.

Except one thing was missing from her life.

Cal.

She had fallen in love with him when she’d first met him, and they had wasted so much time. But she didn’t know if he wanted her now. She hadn’t heard from him since the court hearing to clear her father.

Just like she hadn’t heard from him after Brent died.

“I pronounce you man and wife,” the reverend said.

Johnny cradled Anna’s face between his shaking hands and kissed her with all the love he’d harbored for her for years. Mona and Josie clapped and hugged and congratulated their mother and Johnny.

Mona’s heart ached to have the kind of true love they had found.

Cal watched the ceremony from the back of the church, his heart hammering. He had left Graveyard Falls to give Mona and her new family time to assimilate and adjust to everything that had happened.

All he wanted was for Mona to be happy.

Liar.

He wanted Mona.

He wanted to hold her and love her for the rest of his life.

He wanted to make her his wife.

But . . . did she love him? Could she forgive him for keeping Brent’s dirty secret?

Should he give her more time?

The kiss ended, and Mona pivoted to face the rear of the church. When she saw him, surprise lit her eyes, and a small smile tugged at her lips.

Enough to give him hope.

He forced himself to wait while she and Josie exited, then Anna and Johnny strolled down the aisle, grinning and kissing, their joy contagious. The few friends who’d shown up followed, and Cal took a deep breath and stepped from the church.

The moment he saw Mona, though, his heart started beating so fast he could hardly breathe. Once, he’d stepped away because of Brent, but that had been a mistake.

He loved Mona. He always had. He should have fought for her.

He would now.

The wind shook snow from the branches of the trees, the mountains postcard perfect with the ridges dotted in white. Although the snow was starting to melt and the trees were budding. Spring was finally coming.

But it was Mona who looked ethereal as he strode toward her. Anna and Johnny hurried toward their limo, and Cal jogged down the steps to Mona, afraid she might leave before he had a chance to finally confess that he loved her.

Mona felt a snowflake dampen her cheek, or maybe it was her tears from seeing how happy Anna and Johnny were. They were finally getting to start a life together, the life they’d been robbed of by a cold-blooded killer.

Then suddenly she felt a light touch on her arm and Cal was there. He looked so handsome in his black suit jacket that her heart stuttered.

“I thought you’d left town,” she said, her voice quivering slightly.

“I had, but Anna sent me an invitation.”

“They wouldn’t be together if it weren’t for you.”

“I was just doing my job.”

Mona tensed. “Is that all you were doing?”

Cal’s eyes glittered with emotions she couldn’t quite define. He was always so intense. Had been devoted to Brent. Had made love to her and held her and comforted her when she needed him.

“No.” Cal took her hands. “I’m in love with you, Mona. I always have been. I just . . . I thought I owed Brent. He saved my life more than once when we were in foster care together.”

Mona’s look softened.

“But I paid my debt a long time ago. And I . . . I was wrong to not tell you how I felt.” He inhaled sharply. “I’m sorry for that, for keeping things from you. If you’ll give me a chance to love you, I’ll never let you down again.”

Mona’s heart raced. “I love you, too, Cal. I always will.”

A sultry smile curved his mouth, and he pulled her into his arms. “Good, because I’m never letting you go.”

Her heart shouted with happiness as he closed his mouth over hers and kissed her.

Anna and Johnny had wasted so much time by keeping secrets, just as she and Cal had.

Now they wouldn’t waste another minute because nothing would ever keep them apart again.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

A big thank-you to my developmental editor, Lindsay Guzzardo, who always knows how to take my rough draft and turn it into a better book. Also thanks to the Montlake author team and my editors Maria and Irene for their fabulous support. And to Diane for catching all my mistakes!

Also a big thank-you to my fantastic sister, Reba, who works as a counselor in a state prison, for answering all my questions!

CHAPTER ONE

The dead girl stared up at Special Agent Dane Hamrick, her eyes wide with terror, her lips forming a cry for help that had probably gotten lost in the wind boomeranging off the sharp mountain ridges.

Her naked body lay in a tangle of weeds and brush in a ditch, one hand outstretched as if begging for help. The whites of her eyes bulged with broken vessels and had yellowed like an egg that had been cracked, the yolk spilling out.

Even more disturbing, tiny slits had been carved beneath her eyes, more tracking down her pale face like the claw marks of a bird of prey’s talons etched in snow.

But it was the tears that got to him. They had dried, but stained with the blood, they created a crimson river down her cheeks.

Sheriff Kimball stooped to examine the body. “Special Agent Cal
Coulter said I should call you. That you might have worked a similar case.”

Dane shrugged. He worked with Cal at the Bureau. Cal knew Dane’s history. “Maybe. Do you know who she is?”

The sheriff gestured toward the thick woods behind the motel. “Not yet. I didn’t find any ID on her, but I haven’t done a thorough search of the area yet. The janitor at the motel found her when he took out the trash, but the clerk at the front desk said she wasn’t registered as a guest.”

The stench of garbage suffused the air. The fact that this woman had been left near the Dumpster could be significant. They’d canvass the people registered at the motel. One of them could be the killer.

Or hell, the motel was off the highway, so the killer could have been a stranger passing through.

“She probably died from the stab wound to her chest,” Sheriff Kimball said. “The ME is on his way.”

Betsy had died from a stab wound to the heart as well. For a moment, the woman’s face faded, and in its place Dane saw his younger sister. Betsy at twelve with the freckles sprinkled across her nose and that infectious giggle and those green eyes that always twinkled. Betsy, who’d driven him crazy with her silly jokes and pleas to take her with him everywhere he went.

At nineteen, she’d been innocent and sweet and excited about her future.

She’d looked up to him and depended on him to protect her.

But he’d failed and some maniac had stolen that future from her.

Just like this woman’s had been stolen from her.

Ten years without justice ate at him like a cancer destroying his soul.

Storm clouds darkened the sky, casting an ominous gray over the scene. Dead leaves swirled around the woman’s feet, the wind whistling through the spiny trees. It had been storming the day Betsy died, too.

He rolled his hands into fists. Finding the truth forced him to drag his ass out of bed every day and go to work when some days he wanted to bury himself in a bottle—or in the ground beside his sister—because his heart had an aching, empty hole that could never be repaired.

Dane had joined the task force assigned to track down the most wanted criminals in the States along with Cal, hoping to have access to any case that might lead back to Betsy’s killer.

This was the closest he’d seen yet. Cause of death appeared to be the same.

Still, there were differences. The cuts on this victim’s face had been carved by a sharp instrument. Either a scalpel or some kind of sculpting tool. They were precise, detailed, as if the killer was experienced and knew exactly what he was doing.

In his sister’s case, the cuts had been crude, emotional, angry. Personal. Almost a crime of passion.

And they’d been made by a common pocketknife.

The murders were probably not related.

Although in ten years, the killer could have evolved, perfected his technique. Learned to be patient.

Either way, this woman was someone’s daughter, maybe sister. And friend. They would want answers. Closure.

To see the sick person who’d done this pay.

He’d find her killer and get justice for her.

He wouldn’t stop until he got it for Betsy, too.

“Yes, I was held hostage by a serial killer.” Josie DuKane still had nightmares about that horrible time. But she schooled her emotions as she addressed the crowd in front of the city hall in the small town of Graveyard Falls.

Sad to say that that terrifying experience had inspired her to write a true crime novel. And now, to her surprise, a production company had decided to film a movie about the town and the murders.

“Your book
All the Little Liars
is based on that case?” one of the reporters asked.

Josie nodded. “Yes. During the course of the police’s investigation into the Bride Killer murders, Special Agent Cal Coulter uncovered the truth about the Thorn Ripper case that occurred thirty years ago.”

“They were related?” another reporter asked.

Obviously these reporters hadn’t read her book. “Yes. A woman named Charlene Linder killed the three teenagers in the Thorn Ripper case, but she framed local football star Johnny Pike because he’d rebuked her. At the time she was pregnant, and later delivered a son named Billy.” She paused, still processing the fact that her mother, Anna, had been in love with Johnny at the time, and that she’d had Johnny’s baby, a little girl her mother had given up for adoption.

Solving both cases had led to Johnny’s conviction being overturned, and now her mother and Johnny had finally married. They’d also reconnected with the baby her mother had given up, and now Josie had a sister, Mona. She and Mona were not only close in age but had become good friends. She’d even studied criminology like Mona.

“Billy Linder was the Bride Killer?” the reporter asked.

“Yes. Charlene was abused by her father, and she repeated the cycle by abusing her son. Billy’s bedtime stories consisted of tales about the teenagers she’d killed and left at the base of the waterfalls. She referred to the victims as
little liars
.”

Another reporter waved her hand. “Why did she call them that?”

Josie blinked as the flash of a camera nearly blinded her. The sky was darkening from the threatening storm, the trees shaking with its force. “Charlene was disturbed. Her victims were popular cheerleaders who shunned her. According to her journals, she saw them as Goody Two-shoes who lied about being virgins. Apparently the three victims had made a pact to sleep with Johnny Pike, and she was jealous because he paid attention to them and not her.”

The crowd of locals who’d gathered for the press conference shifted and whispered, still in shock from the events that had transpired in their town.

Some residents were also upset about the movie. They felt as if her book and the negative publicity glorified the killers and would drive families to leave town out of fear.

But Josie had been so close to the case that she’d had to write it and share the sordid story. In some ways it was therapeutic for her to talk about the kidnapping, even more so for her to study Billy’s background and understand the reasons he’d done what he’d done.

Getting into a killer’s mind was something her sister, Mona, who worked as a counselor, had helped her with. That insight had added depth to the story.

A male reporter in the shadows raised a hand to get her attention. “Have you been to visit Billy in the psychiatric unit?”

Josie fought a shiver. “Yes, both my sister and I have. Billy is a very disturbed man.”

“That doesn’t justify the fact that he killed three of our local girls,” someone shouted.

“He should be put to death like they were,” another woman said.

A raindrop fell and plopped against the podium, lightning zigzagging across the sky. More whispers and rumblings of protest echoed through the group.

Josie lifted a hand to signal them to let her speak. “I didn’t write this story to condone what Billy and his mother did. But I believe the citizens of Graveyard Falls should know the truth.” She took a deep breath. “And I think that understanding what caused both of these individuals to commit these heinous crimes may help the victims and their families recover. Hopefully it will also raise awareness of the cycle of domestic abuse.” And maybe teenage bullying. Although the mothers of the teenagers would balk at the idea that their children had treated Charlene unfairly.

“Nothing will bring back our daughters,” one woman cried.

“You should let them rest in peace,” another local added with disdain. “Not cause more pain to their families by making them relive the sadistic crimes over and over.”

Sara Levinson, mother of one of the Thorn Ripper’s victims, stepped to the front. “Every time I see your book and think about watching my daughter being murdered on screen, I feel sick.”

Josie tensed. Sara had balked over doing interviews. But she had finally agreed.

Apparently she had regrets now.

“I’m sorry, Sara,” Josie said softly. “I understand your grief and pain. I still have bad dreams about being held by Billy Linder myself. But I think this book honors those we lost, and I hope you will see it that way as well.”

Tension broke out as a cluster of folks in the back shouted disagreement. Someone yelled at her to leave town.

Others called out support, excited that the filming would boost the town’s fledgling economy. Already the inn had been refurbished, and a local builder had renovated cabins on the river for production crews and others involved in the filmmaking process.

“We don’t care about the money.” This voice from someone in the back of the crowd. “We want our nice quiet town back.”

She wasn’t sure Graveyard Falls had ever been a nice quiet town.

An argument broke out, and the mayor stepped up to try to defuse the situation.

Voices grew louder and more heated as he fielded questions, so she decided it was time for her to exit.

She scanned the group, searching for the sheriff, who was supposed to be on guard in case of problems. But he’d texted earlier that he was meeting Agent Dane Hamrick from the FBI, and she didn’t spot him anywhere. She’d met the federal agent when she was interviewing people for the book. He worked on a special task force.

Had another crime occurred nearby?

The wind stirred again, and the hair on the back of her neck bristled as she started down the podium. She had the uneasy feeling that something bad was going to happen.

Or maybe it already had.

Last week she’d received hate mail accusing her of sensationalizing the tragic deaths of the women.

Was the person who sent that letter watching her now?

He watched Josie DuKane through the crowd, amazed that she seemed humble when the true crime book she’d written had garnered so much attention.

With those sparkling green eyes, Josie was attractive, too. Not beautiful like the models and actresses or even the high-class women who paid to perfect their faces to magazine quality.

But pretty in a natural way. She mesmerized him because she seemed real, not superficial. She was also smart and used her brain, not just her looks, to get ahead in life.

Yes, Josie was the perfect one to tell his story.

The others, though—they were just pretty faces waiting to be carved by his hands.

Pretty faces that would look even more beautiful in death.

He lifted his phone and smiled at the photograph he’d taken of the woman, then traced his finger over her face. His pulse pounded as he studied the claw marks. So fitting that she be marked by claws when she’d tried to sink hers into men to get what she wanted.

He clicked on the text symbol and sent the picture to Josie.

She was just stepping down from the stage, about to dart away from the cameras, reporters, and locals when the message went through. She checked her phone, then hesitated on the steps, her eyes flaring with shock as she lifted her head and searched the crowd.

She was looking for him.

He smiled, blending into the shadows.

“This is just the beginning of our friendship, Josie,” he murmured.
Just the beginning.