Page 1 of The Whispering Girls
PROLOGUE
In the dead of night along a windy country road in the middle of nowhere, a white utility van slowly turned down a side trail barely wide enough for any car. The vehicle bobbed and weaved, inching along, pushing through. The bright lights were the only illumination through the thick trees, leaving an eerie spattering of red light as it went.
The van abruptly stopped when the trail narrowed and it was unable to drive any farther, the engine revving as gears ground to a halt. Steam rose in the cooler outdoor temperature, surrounding the vehicle. Cutting the engine but leaving the headlights on, a man got out: lean body, average height, wearing blue jeans, long-sleeved flannel shirt, baseball cap, and well-worn work boots. There was a lighthearted air to his step as he walked to the back of the van, as if he were on a fun day out.
His looks were unremarkable and he could disappear into a crowd, but despite his jaunty walk there was a rage lurking just beneath the surface. Taking a moment, he stared out into the darkness. The forest seemed to whisper to him its secrets and demands. The evening was still, frosty, the trees remaining quiet as the cool air brushed against his face, though heperspired. Several times he unconsciously curled his fingers into tight fists and then released them—part of his ritual as the forest welcomed him.
He opened the doors to reveal an old rolled-up rug. The man pushed up his sleeves and pulled it out, dropping it on the ground. He began to slowly unroll it with his boot, revealing a mass of heavy plastic tarp…and inside it, the shape of a body.
Picking up one end, the man easily slid the tarp toward the front of the van. The headlights shone on the lifeless distorted face trapped beneath the plastic. She had long dark hair, pale waxy skin, and a frozen terrified expression with fixed and wide eyes that stared back, making it almost impossible to escape her gaze. It almost appeared as if she had been surprised by her fate.
The man moved to the back of the van again and returned to the light with a large white bucket, a rope, and a backpack. Pulling on a pair of gloves, he began to unload various items from the bucket and put them into the backpack for transport. He took his time, seeming undaunted about being out in the open at night.
Finally satisfied, he shut off the van’s headlights, and the area went dark. He waited, unmoving, savoring the blackness, as if it gave him strength. After a few more minutes, he slung the backpack over his shoulders, secured a strap around his waist, and then switched on a headlamp, affixing it over his cap to light his path. He easily dragged the body into the forest. The sound of something heavy sliding along the rural path had an eerie echo, making it difficult to know where the noise was coming from. It sounded here, there, and everywhere. The flashlight beam flickered in between the trees, like a bulb that was beginning to burn out, until it became completely dark again.
ONE
Tuesday 0700 hours
Katie Scott sat in a comfortable chair on the back deck sipping her morning coffee while watching the sunrise. The warm colors of the morning didn’t counteract the cold and the incoming clouds. The weather forecast said some snow flurries were possible today and tomorrow. With a blanket wrapped around her, she took a deep breath. No matter her mood or what was going on in her life, there was one simple thing she never took for granted—watching the sun come up. There were always new brilliant hues of orange and yellow highlighting the forest all around the cabin, celebrating that it was a new day when anything was possible.
Katie’s long brown hair was down around her shoulders, gently tousled from a restless night, when she’d napped less than three hours. She was still dressed in pajamas and thick socks and didn’t have anything on her agenda today. It was difficult for her to not have anywhere to be or be working on a new case, but she was learning, with some difficulty, to take the much needed time off to relax—something she hadn’tdone in a while. Even this time, it wasn’t by choice, but an order from her superior that she take two weeks immediately.
Katie was a detective for the Pine Valley Sheriff’s Department and she headed up the cold-case unit. She and her partner, Detective Sean McGaven, had worked many cases with a perfect solve record—at least for now.
Katie closed her eyes. Like most days, she still saw the victims and killers, their faces, the crime scenes, and the collateral damage flashing through her memory. She made peace with herself a long time ago that the memories and images would never completely disappear from her mind. They were a part of who she was and that was what made her a strong detective.
There was a low whine. Katie reached down to pet her black German shepherd, Cisco. He had been by her side ever since she did two tours in the Army as a K9 explosive detections team. She had been extremely lucky to be able to bring Cisco back with her, with a little help from her uncle (and now boss), Sheriff Scott.
Not only did she bring back Cisco, but also post-traumatic stress. A mental state that was more like a grief cocktail with highs and lows at some of the worst possible times, but she didn’t let it stop her from performing her job. She was determined it was to be a reality that would take a back seat to her life.
Cisco sat up in front of Katie. The jet-black dog with amber wolf eyes watched her with curiosity, slightly tilting his head. It was clear he felt Katie’s moods.
“Good boy, Cisco,” she said. She got up from her chair and stood at the railing looking out into the forest. The brisk air touched her face, but in an odd way it was comforting. Maybe she would go for a walk and clear her head. Or maybe she would make pancakes and stay inside contemplating her life.
Probably not.
Katie knew she wasn’t going to be able to do nothing fortwo weeks. The area she was staying in was beautiful, but the Echo Forest was really quiet and isolated. A friend of her uncle had offered the nice two-bedroom cabin and it had seemed a perfect place for her to take the time she needed. However, as she stood in the silence, she wasn’t so sure. She had spent only one night there so far, and as she looked out at the immense forest, her serene surroundings, she was already calculating the days and hours until she would be heading home.
Several loud thumps against the cabin jolted Katie back into the present.
Cisco instantly turned his focus toward the interior of the house. His body stiffened and a low grumble vibrated from his chest. He stood still, taking in sight, sound, and smell to catalog the incident.
Katie instantly moved quietly back into the house with her cop instincts alert and grabbed her Glock from her suitcase. Straining to listen, she didn’t hear any more sounds despite expecting to hear another thump, a voice, or even footsteps. But it remained hushed.
Cisco padded lightly behind her, watching her back.
Katie slipped out of her pajamas into a pair of jeans and a hoodie, quickly pulling on her boots. Her mind seemed to always jump to criminal activities instead of thinking it might just be the trees swaying against the cabin or a forest creature making its way across the roof.
She inched from her bedroom to the living room and then stopped at the front door. Pausing there, she listened. No other sound. Her nearest neighbor was a couple of acres away and she wasn’t sure if the occupants lived there year-round—it was most likely vacant. There wasn’t a convenient peephole in the door to see if someone was out there. Instead, her hand grasped the deadbolt lock and she quietly eased it clockwise before gripping the doorknob.
Furious knocking broke the tense silence. The rapping was fast and frantic, rattling through the cabin.
It startled Katie, causing her anxiety to rise. Her breath became shallow, and her hands tensed.
Cisco rapid-barked.
She turned to the dog. “Nein,bleib,” she said in German to command the dog to stop barking and to stay in place.
