Page 71 of The Sleeping Girls
“I’ll find an address and secure warrants,” Derrick said. “Then look at other cases she might have been working on. Someone else may have had a grudge.”
“True.” Her gaze cut to the miles and miles of forest as they ended the call. The perp was probably long gone by now. But still, she phoned Cord. His voice sounded gruff when he answered and she wondered if he’d been sleeping. “It’s El. Did I wake you?”
“No, what is it?”
She quickly relayed what had happened. “Do you mind coming out and searching the woods?”
“On my way.”
She could always count on Cord. He knew these mountains better than anyone.
A siren trilled as she hung up, and the firetruck roared up, lights twirling. The ambulance was right behind them. Voicesshouted as firefighters jumped out and started to work, rolling out hoses and attacking the blaze. Ellie rushed to the medics.
“This way.” She gestured for them to follow and sprinted around back to Caitlin. “She’s barely breathing.” Ellie gently patted the woman’s hand. “Help is here. Hang in there, Ms. O’Connor.”
The medics snapped into motion, taking her vitals and giving her oxygen.
Ellie shined her light into the edge of the woods. An owl’s hoot bled through the sound of the raging blaze. A lone wolf cried out. More thunder rumbled.
She stooped down to examine the area where Caitlin lay and saw footprints leading into the woods.
Questions mounted in her head as she tried to make sense of the scene. Why kill the woman and drag her out here instead of leaving her body in the fire? Had Caitlin somehow escaped her attacker and run out on her own?
She surveyed her body and clothing. Caitlin wore black slacks and a white blouse that was now stained with mud, but only one shoe.
She retraced the footsteps she’d seen in the dirt. Judging from the size, they were a man’s. If Caitlin hadn’t run out on her own, someone had carried her from the fire.
SEVENTY-EIGHT
CROOKED CREEK POLICE STATION
Although it was late, Derrick found the Hayes State Prison’s warden’s home number. “I know this is late, sir, but this is Special Agent Derrick Fox. I’m calling to inquire about one of your former inmates, Darnell Woodruff. Do you remember him?”
“Of course. What do you need to know?” the warden asked.
“We’re investigating the murder of a teenage girl and another missing teen near Red Clay Mountain. Darnell is a person of interest in our case.” He paused. “Did he have visitors while he was incarcerated?”
“His family never came, not even once. Until Ms. O’Connor with the Innocence Project took an interest in him, he was just another lifer on his own.”
The fact that he had no visitors was interesting. “Did he connect with anyone in prison or make friends?”
“No, but he did get in several scraps. Had to spend time in the hole a few times.”
“Did you consider him dangerous?”
“Everyone in this place is dangerous. They’re locked up, angry and bitter. Even the ones who try to stay on the straightand narrow find it difficult. Gangs run the place and prisoners are attacked on a daily basis.”
That answer didn’t surprise him although it wasn’t helpful either. “Was Woodruff an instigator?”
“A couple of times. But oddly, he wasn’t defending himself. He took up for the scrawny green ones who came in, naïve, perfect targets.”
“Could I speak with the prison counselor?” Derrick asked.
“She’s gone home for the day,” the warden said.
“Would it be possible for me to reach her at home? This is urgent.”
“I suppose so.” The warden gave him her number and Derrick thanked him then called her.