Wolfe moved around her, taking samples of blood from her face and neck. “You mentioned to my deputy that Sky’s car vanished overnight. It might be under a snowdrift. If you give me your cellphone number, I’ll pass it on to the deputies searching for the car. They might hear it ringing under the snow.”
“Sure.” Ella repeated it twice to Emily, who entered it into her contacts on her cellphone.
He turned to Emily. “Call Webber and pass on the number.”
“Okay.” Emily slipped outside into the passageway.
Wolfe bagged and labeled everything, then handed Ella some large plastic bags. “The bathroom is through there.” He pointed to a door. “When Emily comes back, I want you to place all your clothes into the plastic bags. You may keep your underwear on. I don’t think the blood soaked through everything.”
“It wouldn’t have gone through all of them. I have layers of clothes under my coat. Two sets of thermals. I couldn’t fit everything into my bags, so I wore the rest. If there’s no blood on them can I keep them too?”
That explains why she didn’t freeze to death. Wolfe rubbed his chin. “If you’re okay with Emily examining your clothes first to make a determination, then you can keep anything not bloodstained.”
“Sure.” Ella dropped her gaze to the floor, then lifted it slowly to look at his face. “Then can I take a shower?”
“Yeah, but before you go, let me see your hands.” Wolfe waited for her to remove her gloves then examined her hands for any sign of frostbite or blood. He found none. He met her gaze. “Okay, thanks. When you’re done, I’ll take your statement.”
When Emily returned, he waited for her to collect the clothes then leaving her inside to wait for Ella to shower walked into the hallway and called Jenna. “Rowley is on his way to chat to Sky Paul’s parents. I’m waiting to take Ella Tate’s statement.”
“What has the blood spatter told you?” Jenna cleared her throat. “Victim or suspect?”
Wolfe let out a long sigh. “I’m leaning toward suspect. The blood spatter is consistent with her inflicting the damage and her attitude is not what I would expect from someone who has suffered this type of trauma. She is hostile rather than devastated. In fact, she seems to care more about her bloodstained clothes than the fact someone murdered her friend in front of her. Something else. She isn’t exhibiting signs of frostbite considering she sheltered in a tree during a blizzard for six hours. Although she is wearing numerous layers of clothes, including two sets of thermals, socks, and had fur-lined boots.”
“If she was under a snow canopy she could keep warm.” Jenna coughed and wheezed. “Sorry. Where was I? Ah yes, I know small animals burrow under the snow to survive, it’s possible.”
He noticed Emily waving him toward the door. “I have to go, ma’am. I’ll call you when I have more information.
” He disconnected.
Six
Sky Paul tried to fight her way back to consciousness. Fleeting memories filtered into her mind, of a dark road at night and someone hitting her. Underneath her, warm bedding pressed against her back. Perhaps it was all a bad dream and she was at home and in her own bed. She tried to force open her eyes, but the dream tugged her back down and she dozed in that relaxing place between sleep and wakefulness. A memory nagged at her and she tried to grasp the truth of it. Somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind, a nightmare hovered. Had her mind conjured the man by the side of the road and the blinding headache? She remembered driving with Ella to Black Rock Falls, but not getting home. Some parts of the puzzle dangled just out of reach and she could not escape the daunting feeling of unease. I have to wake up.
She fell back into the deep chasm of sleep and woke some time later with a throbbing headache. So the memory of a head injury was real enough. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth and she couldn’t remember being so thirsty. She opened her eyes and the first thing she noticed was a bag of fluid hanging from a pole beside her bed and the beep of a machine. I’m in a hospital. With care, she turned her throbbing head to stare at the woman in the next bed hooked up to a number of machines. She was about her age with dark hair and one hand with bright pink nail polish rested on the turned down sheet.
She tried to touch her face but could not lift her arms. Fearing the head injury had paralyzed her, she wiggled her fingers and they worked fine. Glancing down, she gaped at the restraints securing both wrists to a bar along each side of the bed. She tried to wriggle free but the bands held her tight. Panic grabbed her. “Nurse, I need help.” Her voice came out in a dry squeak.
Footsteps, then a figure dressed in green scrubs, hat and mask came into view. Sky blinked at the man. “I need a drink—and what’s happened to me?” She wriggled on the bed. “Why am I restrained?”
“Calm down, Sky. Everything is going to be fine. You were in a car wreck and I can’t give you a drink just yet. The straps are for your own safety.” He took a syringe from a dish beside the bed and inserted it into the tube running into her arm. “Go back to sleep now.”
A warm glow spread through her and she closed her eyes, then the voice from her nightmare shocked her awake.
“I said to keep her in an induced coma and hook up the other machine.” Another man wearing the same green hospital scrubs hovered over her. The familiar raspy voice slammed into her, making every hair on her body stand to attention.
The man sounded impatient. “And before you go home today, leave the trash by the back door. I’ll dispose of it later.”
Confusion and terror shuddered through her. What was happening? No one had explained anything to her. Where was Ella? Sky fought to stay awake, but even her intense fear was no match for the drugs coursing through her veins. The pain slid away and darkness surrounded her.
Seven
He absorbed Trudy’s terrified expression and smiled as the drugs took hold. Kidnapping and murdering women empowered him to such a degree it had become an insatiable need. He hadn’t experienced a normal emotion in any form, not ever, and during his forty-five years had only gained three acquaintances he could trust.
He liked making his victims believe they were safe in a hospital ward, then watching the shock on their faces when the realization hit them that they were under his control. He would kill them and enjoy every slow moment. He wouldn’t give them a second thought once they’d died. Having no remorse was a gift he valued and one he’d inherited from his father.
As a cattleman’s son, he’d raised orphaned calves by hand but by the time he’d reached ten years old his father had forced him to slaughter them. Rather than upsetting him, it had excited him. His father’s words hummed in his ears. You are like me, son. We don’t give a shit.
He hadn’t cared when his father died either.