Elle Unleashed: A Gripping Psychological Thriller with a Twist Page 4

  Elle didn’t want another drink. She set her half-empty beer on the table and gazed at him from beneath her lashes. “Why don’t we get out of here?”

  Marlon was on his feet in an instant. He dug some bills from his wallet and dropped them onto the tabletop. “After you.”

  Chapter Ten

  Elle walked out of that bar, her shoulders held high, and her feet moving with sure steps. She would rid the world of Marlon Hurley before she went to bed for the night.

  “Where are you going?” he asked when she continued on toward her car parked in the shadows.

  She slowed her steps, glancing at him over her shoulder. “Follow me.”

  With a shrug, he dangled his keys in the air. “Right behind you.”

  Elle unlocked her car and slid behind the wheel. She started the engine, pulling out without waiting to see if he followed.

  She turned on the GPS on her phone and headed in the direction it prompted her to go. The direction of the swamp.

  * * * *

  Elle slowed her vehicle to a stop in the same place she had killed Waylon Redding. She watched Marlon’s headlights from the rearview mirror, all the while removing the pistol from her purse.

  He parked next to her and exited his truck.

  Elle got out as well.

  “What on earth are we doing out here in the swamp?” he practically barked, heading in her direction.

  She lifted the gun. “Laying you to rest.”

  Marlon came to an abrupt stop. “Jesus, lady. If this is some sort of a sick game you’re playing, I ain’t interested.”

  Elle could see the wild look in his eyes reflecting the high beams of her car.

  She pulled the hammer back. “It’s no game. Now, get on the ground. Face down.”

  He glanced around nervously. “You’re serious?”

  “I’ve never been more serious.” She saw the instant reality set in.

  He visibly swallowed, lowering to his knees. “What are you going to do to me?”

  “What needs doing. Now, get all the way down on your stomach.”

  Once he lay completely on the muddy ground, Elle moved to stand behind his head. “Tell me why your wife left with your kids.”

  He turned his face to the side, but otherwise kept still. “I don’t know why.”

  “Wrong answer.” She dropped to her haunches and pressed the barrel of the gun to his temple. “Try again. If you lie to me, I’ll kill you slowly, one bullet at a time.”

  “Please,” he whispered, tears now sparkling on his lashes.

  She pressed the barrel more firmly against his face. “Tell me!”

  He squeezed his eyes shut. “Okay, I’ll tell you. Just please don’t kill me.”

  Elle eased the gun back a couple of inches.

  “Sh-she claimed that I touched our daughter inappropriately,” he began, only to break down and cry.

  Elle’s stomach turned over. Though she already knew the answer, she wanted to hear him say it. To confess what he’d done. To hear him speak it aloud before she sent him to Hell. “And did you? Touch her inappropriately?”

  He cried harder.

  “Answer me, or I swear to God, I will castrate you and leave you to crawl out of here a female.”

  “Yessss,” he wailed hysterically. “I didn’t mean to. I don’t know why I do the things I do. I would stop if I could. You have to believe me. I’ve been this way for as long as I can remember. I—”

  She pulled the trigger, silencing his confession.

  There was no need to shoot him again. The bullet had penetrated his temple, killing him instantly.

  Elle rose to her feet to stare down at the monster who’d hurt his own child—who’d hurt Miley. Well, he would never hurt anyone again.

  Marlon’s ex-wife would be able to go on with her life without fear of him finding her and the kids. He would never touch his daughter again.

  Returning the gun to her car, Elle spent the next hour stripping Marlon of his clothes and dragging his heavy body to the banks of the swamp.

  She then burned the clothes and turned her attention to his truck. She would have to drive it out of there and walk back to her car. Yeah, she hadn’t thought things through.

  With a sigh of resignation, she got behind the wheel of Marlon’s truck and drove it back to the main road.

  Taking a right at the intersection, she drove another couple of miles and then pulled off onto a dirt road. There, she got out, wiped the truck down of any fingerprints she might have left, and then struck out on foot back in the direction of the swamp.

  Chapter Eleven

  Elle woke the following morning with a wince. Between dragging Marlon’s big body into the swamp and the five-mile walk back after dumping his truck, every muscle in her body ached.

  She pushed the covers back and stumbled into the bathroom to brush her teeth. Pulling her hair back into a ponytail, she washed the makeup from her face and quickly got dressed.

  With one last look at herself in the mirror, she headed to Mrs. Gordon’s to collect Sarah for school.

  The elderly woman opened the kitchen door after the first knock. “Good morning, Elle.”

  It wasn’t lost on Elle that Ida had used the name she’d asked her to the day before. “Morning, Ida Mae.”

  “Elle!” Sarah squealed, jumping down from her chair at the table and rushing across the room.

  Elle noticed that Ida Mae had dressed the child for school.

  Grateful, Elle sent the older woman a smile. “Thank you.”

  “Ain’t no need to thank me, girl. It does this old lady good to have a child in the house.”

  An ache settled in Elle’s chest. She would have given anything as a child to have had a grandmother like Ida Mae. Or even a friend, for that matter.

  “Finish your cereal,” Ida insisted, nodding at Sarah. “You have to leave for school in ten minutes.”

  Sarah squirmed free of Elle’s hold and ran back to her previous seat at the table.

  Ida Mae gestured for Elle to precede her into the den.

  “I heard your car come home at three o’clock this morning,” Ida Mae began as soon as they were out of earshot of Sarah. “Now, you’re a grown woman, and it ain’t my business, but I worry. I don’t want anything happening to you, and I’m terrified when you’re out there, doing God knows what, that you won’t come home, that I’ll hear about you on the news the next morning.”

  Other than Evan, Elle had never had anyone show concern for her. Until now. It touched her deeply. She simply stood there, soaking it up. It felt good to her, like early morning sunshine in the fall.

  Elle reached out and took hold of Ida Mae’s hand. “I’m sorry for worrying you. But you’re better off not knowing where I went.”

  Understanding sparkled in Ida Mae’s eyes. “I don’t want anything to happen to you, is all. Just promise me you’ll be safe.”

  “I promise.”

  “I’m done,” Sarah announced from the archway leading to the den.

  Elle released Ida’s hand and hurried in Sarah’s direction. “We have to run to the house and get your backpack first.”

  “Me and Ida already got it,” Sarah responded with a giggle. “We got up extra early.”

  Elle tilted her head. “How did you get in the house?”

  “You left the door unlocked, silly.” Sarah bounded down the hall, returning a minute later with backpack in hand. “I’m ready.”

  Anxiety swirled through Elle’s gut. She had left the door unlocked to Evan’s house. What if Sarah had been in there with her? A pedophile resided not a half mile away.

  A shudder passed through Elle. She took hold of Sarah’s hand and led her to the kitchen door.

  Ida Mae followed close behind. “If you need me to keep Sarah tonight, just let me know. I’m always here.”

  Elle thought about Clyde Arlington, the pedophile in the neighborhood. “Yes. I’ll bring her over this evening. Thank you, Mrs. Gordon.”

  Openi
ng the door, Elle guided Sarah outside and turned to face Ida Mae. There was so much she wanted to say to the woman, but words seemed to fail her.

  Ida Mae reached out and cupped Elle’s cheek. Odd that Elle didn’t shrink back from the touch.

  “You don’t have to say anything,” Ida Mae assured her in a soft voice. “I can see it in your eyes. Now get to the school before you’re late. I’ll be here when you get back.”

  Elle’s eyes burned with unshed tears, but she held them back.

  Spinning on her heel, she struck out across the yard with Sarah’s smaller hand in hers.

  Chapter Twelve

  A knock sounded, signaling that Evan had a visitor. The door slowly opened, and Sheriff Donnie King poked his head inside. “May I come in?”

  Evan nodded. “Of course. What brings you to Atlanta?”

  Donnie stepped into the room, removing his hat as he went. “Two reasons. One, to check on you, and the other, to let you know we found the bodies of the missing men from Wexler.”

  Evan pressed the button to lift the head of his bed. “You didn’t drive three hours to tell me that.”

  “No, I didn’t. I came to talk to Elenore.”

  Anxiety was instant. Evan kept his expression blank. “Talk to her about what?”

  Moving closer to the bed, Donnie stopped next to the only chair in the room. “Where the bodies were found.”

  Remaining calm and as interested as he could feign, Evan murmured, “Are you going to tell me, or are we playing twenty questions here?”

  “I really need to speak with the Griffin girl.”

  Anger reared its head. “That Griffin girl, as you continue to call her, is my wife.”

  Gesturing to the chair, Donnie cleared his throat. “May I?”

  With a nod, Evan lifted the head of his bed a little higher. “Talk to me, Sheriff.”

  Donnie draped his hat on the corner of the chair’s back, took a seat, and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Someone in town called to inform us that they thought they saw Elijah Griffin going into the Watering Hole.”

  Evan knew that wasn’t accurate. Elijah’s rotted corpse had been dined on by the local gators. “You arrested him, then?”

  Blowing out a frustrated-sounding breath, Donnie shook his head. “Charlie was on duty when the call came in. He drove out there, but the bartender and patrons claimed they hadn’t seen Griffin. So Charlie called me the following morning. The two of us headed over to the Griffin Farm to check for signs of life.”

  Evan sat up straighter, pretending to hang on the sheriff’s every word. “Any signs of Elijah?”

  “None. In fact, the layer of dust on his truck had to be two inches thick. No footprints or evidence that anyone had been in that house in months. So we decided to check the rest of the property and surrounding woods. That’s when Charlie stumbled upon a door in the barn. A door that led underground.”

  Donnie got to his feet. He continued to talk while pacing near the foot of Evan’s bed. “Those bodies were down there, Evan. All of them. Including Alice Hastings.”

  “Jesus,” Evan breathed, hoping the sheriff bought his stunned act.

  Donnie obviously did. With a nod in Evan’s direction, he resumed his pacing. “We fingerprinted everything down there but came up with nothing. Not even Elijah’s. Now, why would Elijah wipe the place clean and leave the bodies there?”

  Evan’s heart began to pound, but he remained quiet. He would need to think his words over carefully before speaking.

  Donnie continued to pace and talk. “I mean, if you’re going to hide bodies on your property, it makes no sense to get rid of your prints. The simple fact that they’re on your land automatically makes you a suspect.”

  “Nothing Elijah has done up to this point makes any sense, Sheriff. He’s psychotic. God knows why he wiped the place down. Maybe he thought we were on to him.”

  Donnie nodded but didn’t look convinced. “The oddest thing, though, why would he wipe his prints clean but leave his boot marks?”

  Once again pretending ignorance, Evan asked, “Boot marks?”

  “I’m assuming the footprints were Elijah’s. They were his size, matched the other shoes in his bedroom. But if he was smart enough to wipe down the place, seems like he would have done the same with his footprints.”

  Evan could kick himself for not thinking of that very thing. “I’m sure you’ll get your answers when you locate him.”

  “If we locate him,” Donnie corrected, running a hand down his face. “He’s been in the wind for months. That’s one heck of a head start. I’ve called in the FBI’s help on this one. Now that we have bodies, I’ve issued a warrant for Elijah’s arrest. If he screws up even a little bit, we’ve got him.”

  Evan’s heart pounded painfully. The FBI had been called in to assist the Haverty County Sheriff’s Department with the murders beneath that barn. Evan didn’t need to ask why. Elijah Griffin would now be considered a serial killer. Only, Elijah didn’t kill those people… Elle did. And Evan had covered it up. “What’s the FBI doing to find Elijah?”

  “SSA Rollins and SA Taggert are questioning witnesses and going over that farm with a fine-tooth comb. I’m sure they’ll be out here soon to interview you as well.”

  Evan could only nod. If the FBI was coming to Atlanta, they would interrogate Elenore without him present. And he couldn’t let that happen.

  Once Donnie left, Evan pressed the button for the nurse.

  “Is everything all right, Mr. Ramirez?” the nurse asked, stepping into the room.

  Evan cleared his throat. “I’d like to be discharged.”

  The plump, dark-haired nurse’s eyebrows lifted. “But the doctor is working up orders to send you to rehab.”

  Evan wanted to howl in frustration. He knew that without rehab, it could take months, even years, to walk again. But he was needed at home.

  He also knew if he went against medical advice and refused treatment, his insurance company would likely not pay for his current hospital stay. Nor would they pay for future treatments.

  “You’re right, of course.” Evan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m just anxious to go home.”

  The nurse’s gaze softened. “I understand, Mr. Ramirez.”

  Evan waited for the nurse to leave, then picked up the phone and called Elenore’s cell. She answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Elenore. It’s Evan.”

  “How are you feeling this morning?”

  Evan noticed her voice sounded odd, wooden, somehow. “I’m okay. I need to talk to you. Can you come to the hospital?”

  A long pause ensued, and Evan wondered if she would decline. And then, “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” She ended the call.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Elle walked the rest of the way home from Sarah’s school, her cell phone held tightly in her hand.

  Evan wanted to see her.

  Had he guessed what she’d done to Waylon Redding? Or Marlon Hurley, for that matter?

  No, she was overthinking things. There would be no way for Evan to know what she’d done. No one knew but Ida Mae.

  Elle’s stomach suddenly dropped. Had Ida Mae gone to Evan about what Elle had done?

  Slowing her steps, Elle dialed Ida’s number.

  “Hello?”

  “Ida Mae? It’s Elle.”

  “Is everything okay?” Ida Mae questioned, sincere concern lining her voice.

  Elle hesitated.

  “Elle, honey? What’s wrong?”

  “I got a call from Evan. He asked me to come to the hospital to talk.”

  “And you were wondering if I said something to him.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Did you?” She hated to ask but needed to know.

  A soft sigh came through the line. “I love that boy like he was my own, Elle. I would never do or say anything to hurt him. And it would hurt him if he knew. Now, I told you that you could trust me. And I meant it.”
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  Elle relaxed. Somewhat. “I’m sorry, Ida Mae. But I had to know.”

  “I understand. Now, go see what he wants. And for God’s sake, don’t go in there strung tight. He’ll pick up on that right away.”

  Elle thanked Mrs. Gordon and disconnected the call. She walked the rest of the way home, feeling anxious and more than a little worried about Evan’s call.

  * * * *

  Elle arrived at the hospital fifteen minutes later. She made her way to Evan’s room and tapped softly on the door.

  “Come in,” Evan called, impatience lining his tone.

  Elle took a calming breath and stepped inside. “Morning, Detective.”

  Evan’s brows slightly lifted. “We’re back to ‘Detective’ again?”

  “I’m sorry,” she confessed, glancing away from his penetrating stare.

  “You don’t have to apologize, Elenore. Have a seat.”

  Elle trailed across the room and sat in the chair next to the bed. Evan would likely always think of her as Elenore.

  “How’s Sarah?” Evan inquired, sitting up a bit higher.

  Elle clasped her hands in her lap, her gaze focused on a small rip in the sheet of his bed. “She’s good. She loves school.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. Listen Elenore… The sheriff from Wexler was here.”

  Elle jerked her gaze to Evan’s face. “Here? What for?”

  “They found the bodies beneath the barn.”

  Elle’s heart jackknifed. “Did— Do they suspect me?”

  Evan shook his head. “No, but they are suspicious about the place being wiped clean of fingerprints. And since there were so many bodies, the FBI has been called in.”

  “The FBI?” Elle whispered, feeling the blood drain from her face.

  Evan cleared his throat. “When there are more than three victims of the same person, that person is considered a serial killer.”

  Nausea was instant. Elle continued to stare at Evan’s face, his words floating around inside her head. She was a serial killer.

  “Elenore…” he began when Elle pushed unsteadily to her feet. “I know what you’re thinking, and you’re wrong. You’re not a serial killer.”