Her scalp stung as he twisted her hair harder, but she nodded. She understood all right.
The baby’s cry dragged her back to reality, and she reached for her newborn. Ms. Hazel gently eased Minnie’s daughter into her arms.
The moment Minnie looked into her daughter’s eyes, eyes such a deep blue they almost looked purple, love for her newborn overcame her. “Iris. That’s my favorite flower and my grammy’s name. She was such a sweet lady. She used to make cookies with me every time she came to visit.”
She stroked the strands of her daughter’s damp hair as she studied her delicate features. A tiny pug nose, dimpled cheeks, pink little lips. If only her grammy were still alive to see Iris.
She lifted Iris and kissed her forehead. “Somehow, baby girl, we’ll make a life for ourselves. And I’ll always protect you.”
Two of the girls who’d been staying here when Minnie first arrived had chosen adoption for their infants. Minnie wasn’t opposed to it.
But she couldn’t give up her baby girl. Iris was her life now. She’d never leave her or let anyone hurt her.
ONE
DAY ONE
Midnight Ridge
One year later
“I warned you not to talk.”
He checked the time as the girl squirmed and fought. Midnight glowed in the crystal hands on the face of his watch, a sliver of the moon flickering in the mist rising above the mountain like minute fireflies.
Midnight, the time marking the transition as one day bled into another. A time when the devil was thought to be near. A time when humans were most vulnerable, when temptation, danger and unnatural forces crossed the thin veil between life and death.
The time when she would die.
She dug the heels of her cheap tennis shoes into the soil as he dragged her toward the ledge. The skirt of her waitress uniform bunched around her middle, revealing a pair of plain white panties. Dirt and rocks skittered down the embankment, filling the air with a cloud of dust. Flies swarmed. Dead leaves coveredthe ground, crunching as she fought. Sweat dripped down his back.
“Please don’t kill me,” she pleaded. “I can’t leave my daughter.”
He doused her body with Wild Turkey, held her head back and poured it down her throat. She clamped her lips together and shook her head, but he pried them open with his gloved fingers and half of the bottle flowed into her mouth. She choked and sputtered, spewing some of the brown whiskey as she struggled to spit it out.
He showed no mercy. She deserved to be punished. Laughing, he held her jaw so tight he thought he heard a bone crack as he forced her mouth open again, poured more liquor down her throat then closed her mouth. Her panicked eyes pleaded with him as she choked and had to swallow.
Warm brown liquid oozed from her lips and dribbled down her chin as crows circled above.
He clenched her long black ponytail, wound it around his fingers like a rope and tightened his hold. She winced in pain and wailed, but her limbs hung like a ragdoll.
She tried to spit some of the liquor out again and screamed and kicked at him. “Let me go, you monster.”
He leaned closer to her ear and taunted her, “You used to love this stuff, baby.” Another turn of the bottle and she sputtered but lost the battle.
His dark eyes pinned her with the truth. “You should have listened, you stupid bitch.”
Rage mingled with adrenaline as he dragged her toward the edge of the ridge. She clawed at his legs and the ground, digging in her heels, but he gripped her shoulders and hurled her over the edge. Her scream boomeranged in the air as her body bounced against the rocks, arms twisting and bleeding as she hit the sharp edges, her sneakers slipping off and sailing downward,her hair swirling like rattlesnakes as she plunged to her death below.
TWO
Midnight Ridge
A potential suicide at Midnight Ridge. Possibly the third in the past year.
SARS Ranger Cord McClain considered calling Detective Ellie Reeves to go with him, but he decided to check out the situation first. If in fact, it was a suicide, there’d be no need to wake her in the middle of the night to come out here.
The temperature was dropping, making it colder than usual this time of year, and a gust of wind brought the rancid scent of a dead animal. His hands and clothes still felt clammy from the day in the woods hunting down a couple lost on the Appalachian Trail. Thankfully he’d found them safe and alive, although dehydrated and embarrassed about losing their way.