All the Beautiful Brides (25 page)

“Because he was real protective of his daughter. He didn’t want her dating anyone, and all the guys at school knew it.”

Mona massaged her temple. If the sheriff had framed Johnny, and Johnny was innocent, who had killed those teenagers?

Sheriff Buckley cursed as he listened to that damn radio show. Some folks still thought Pike was innocent.

And his daughter . . . Anna . . . she’d torn out of here like a bat out of hell.

But that woman Mona’s voice reverberated in his ears. She’d said Josie was missing.

That was what had Anna so upset.

Josie was his granddaughter, only he couldn’t look at her for thinking about what had happened back then.

About those girls’ faces staring up at him in death.

About those roses and the thorns that had ripped at their tongues and throats when they’d cried for help.

About her father . . .

He might have crossed the line, but he’d done what he had to do. And he couldn’t turn back now.

Johnny paced his cell, his shoulders and body knotted with agitation.

The moment he’d seen the article about the Bride Killer, he’d had a bad feeling it would somehow all lead back to him. That fingers would point at him again even though he’d been locked up for nearly three decades.

And it had. Already that one Fed had come to see him.

If it was up to Sheriff Buckley, he’d do whatever he could to tie the two together and use this to tack on the death penalty to his sentence.

He needed to tell his side of the story.

But who would listen to him? They hadn’t believed him years ago when he’d denied pushing those girls off the falls. Even Anna had doubted him in the end.

That had hurt the most.

He leaned his head against the bars and fought back a guttural howl at the injustice. God, he’d loved her.

Hell, he still did. Of course he was stuck in time because he’d been trapped in this damn hellhole.

But she’d moved on. She’d married. Had a daughter.

But now that daughter was missing.

He’d heard the guards talking about it. Anna must be terrified.

If only there was something he could do . . .

He gripped the bars with clammy hands and stared at his bruised and battered knuckles. He’d learned how to fight hard in here. Had resorted to acts he wasn’t proud of.

Had become the animal they’d said he was.

But . . . none of that mattered. Only saving Anna’s daughter did . . .

The reporter had written that this damned lunatic dressed his first victim in a wedding gown. A homemade one. And the guards had been talking about a second victim. They were calling the case the Bride Killer.

A memory nagged at him, distant. Disturbing.

Was it possible the same person who’d framed him was killing again? If so, he had a good idea who it was. He’d wanted to tell the police years ago, but he’d remained silent, caught in a vicious trap. All to protect Anna.

“Guard!” he shouted. “I need to make a phone call.”

The guard strode over, one hand stroking his baton. “Ain’t your time.”

Johnny balled his hands into fists. “It’s important I talk to that FBI agent who came to see me. Agent Coulter.”

A nasty chuckle reverberated from the guard, his eyes sneering at Johnny. “You know who this Bride Killer is?”

“Maybe,” Johnny said. He was finally going to tell the truth. The whole truth.

It was something he should have done years ago.

But he’d kept his mouth shut to keep Anna safe.

Now at least three other women might have died because of it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Cal tried to banish the image of Josie DuKane lying dead at Graveyard Falls as he drove to Anna’s. He had to stop this maniac before he killed her. If he wasn’t already too late . . .

He parked and hurried to the door. When she let him in, Anna wrapped her arms around her waist as if to hold herself together, but he sensed she was teetering on the edge of hysterical panic.

His phone buzzed. He was surprised to see the number for the state penitentiary and answered immediately. “Agent Coulter.”

“This is Warden Brisbin at the state pen. One of our prisoners says he needs to talk to you right away.”

Cal’s pulse jumped. “Let me guess. Johnny Pike?”

“Yes. He claims he has information about the Bride Killer.”

“Did he give you a name?”

“No.” The warden grunted. “He doesn’t trust anyone here. He says he’ll only speak with you.”

Cal raked a hand through his hair. “Do you think this is some kind of stunt to get attention?”

“I don’t know,” Warden Brisbin said. “But in all the years Pike’s been here, he still claims he was framed.”

Cal considered that possibility. If so, the person who’d framed him might be killing again. But why would he have lain low all these years, then started up again now?

“I’ll be there as soon as possible to talk to him.” Cal hung up and turned to Anna. “Johnny Pike wants to talk to me about these murders.”

Pain and hope mingled on Anna’s face. “I’m going with you.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

Anna gripped his arm. “I don’t care what you think. My daughter is missing, and if Johnny knows something about who took her, then I have to see him.”

Cal didn’t have time to argue.

The Bride Killer hadn’t held his victims long before he’d strangled them. Josie might already be dead.

He watched Josie lift the biscuit pan from the oven, his heart pounding with hope. He’d untied her feet so she could move around and make the meal, and she surprised him. She actually knew how to cook.

The biscuits were golden brown and fluffy, and she’d even fried chicken. Fried chicken was his favorite. Besides the stews.

“Watch out for her,” his mama said in a frail voice. “She looks like a sly one.”

Why was Mama always finding fault with the girls he brought home? Just like she’d found fault with him all these years.

Sure, she’d loved him and cuddled him, but she hadn’t spared the rod either. She’d beaten him plenty of times for disrespecting her, and if she wasn’t so damn weak she’d do it again.

But he wouldn’t disrespect her. He loved her.

Tears nearly choked his throat. He couldn’t believe she was dying and going to leave him all alone.

You’re not alone. You have Josie now
.

Josie stirred the gravy, and his mouth watered at the smell. “Look, Mama, Josie made my favorite meal.”

Josie looked over at his mother, nerves flickering in her eyes. “Yes, I did. I hope you’ll like it. Can I bring you a plate?”

His heart soared again. She was so nice to his mama. Yes, she was the one.

“Mama will eat with us at the table,” Billy said.

Josie’s fingers curled around the handle of the cast-iron skillet. “Of course, dear, whatever you say.”

He smiled and wheeled his mother over to the table. Gently, he laid one hand on her bony shoulder. “Smells delicious, doesn’t it, Mama?”

She sniffed. “I suppose so. But I don’t have much of an appetite.”

“Maybe you’ll feel stronger when you eat a little bit,” Josie said.

“She’s right, Mama.” He unfolded her napkin and spread it across her lap. “Maybe you’ll even get well.”

Josie started toward the table with the biscuits, but he took the pan from her and set them on the stove. His hand brushed her soft skin, and his body hardened.

Yes, Josie would feed his belly and his other needs, too. He couldn’t wait to run his fingers through those long strands of hair and pump himself inside her.

He felt a drop of semen leaking from the tip of his penis and dampening his jeans at the thought.

“What would you like to drink, Mama? Tea?”

She murmured, “Of course,” and Josie took the pitcher and poured a jelly jar half full, then set it in front of his mother. “You want me to serve you now?”

“My son can do that,” his mama said.

He wanted to shake his mama for the way she was talking to Josie. He really liked this girl.

But he couldn’t hurt his mother, especially when she was already suffering so much. He had to hold on to every minute they had left.

He stepped over to the stove and filled a plate with a chicken breast, mashed potatoes, and two biscuits, then spooned gravy over the potatoes. He was just about to carry it to his mother when Josie picked up the frying pan.

A second later, he jumped back with a howl. Hot gravy flew all over him, scalding his face and arms, and he dropped his mama’s plate.

Josie threw the pan at him, turned, and ran toward the door. He bellowed her name and lunged for her just as she reached the doorknob. Her hands were still bound, but she swung them at him and jabbed his face with her fingernails.

He yelled in pain, snatched her hair, and flung her back across the room. Her head hit the hearth, and she fell to the floor, her head lolling to the side.

“I told you not to trust her,” Mama murmured.

He reached his hand back and slapped his mama, something he’d never done. Her head whipped backward, shock widening her eyes.

An instant later, he crawled over to her and tugged at her hand. “I’m so sorry, Mama. Please forgive me.” Sometimes his rage got out of control, and he couldn’t stop himself.

Her bones creaked as she laid one hand on the back of his head and looked into his eyes. “You’re a bad boy, son. You have to be punished.”

“It was her fault,” he cried. “I loved her but she tried to get away.”

“You know what you have to do now.”

He nodded mutely. Josie wasn’t the one after all.

It was time to take her to the falls.

Cal pushed the speed limit as he and Anna drove toward the state pen. She’d phoned her father twice to ask him if Josie had come home, but he hadn’t answered.

Cal was tempted to put an APB out on the former sheriff. But he had a feeling Pike knew something that would help. And Josie’s life might depend on what that was. Had he been in contact with the Bride Killer? Maybe the unsub had sent him photos or written to him.

Although, if so, Peyton would have found something by now . . .

“What if Johnny really was innocent?” Anna asked. “I abandoned him just like everyone else.”

“I’m sure you did what you thought was right,” Cal said.

Anna bit her lip and turned to look out the window at the passing scenery. “I did what my father told me to do,” she said in a bitter voice. “Not what I thought was right. If I’d done that, I would have stuck by Johnny and . . .”

“And what?”

Anna wiped at a tear. “And I would have stood up to my father.”

“But the evidence was damning,” Cal said.

“Johnny insisted someone planted it.”

Cal considered everything he knew so far and the people involved.

Her father had hated Johnny. And he was the one person who had the knowledge and skill to frame Johnny.

Sheriff Buckley may have sent the wrong man to prison to keep his daughter from running off. Or to protect someone else.

Like himself.

Josie’s ears rang from where her head had hit the brick, but she blinked rapidly to try to focus. She couldn’t just lie here. She had to get away.

She struggled to get to her feet, but she was so dizzy the room spun around like a merry-go-round.

“I thought you were different,” Billy wailed. “That you were kind and good and would treat me and Mama right.”

Billy had his head on his mother’s shoulder now, soaking in her comfort.

Josie blinked again and scanned the room in search of a weapon. Maybe if she could reach that fire poker on the other side of the hearth . . .

But her gaze caught sight of a framed photograph on the table, and her heart tripped a beat. The man in the photo looked young, high school age, and was wearing a football uniform. He had short dark hair and was smiling, a football tucked beneath his arm.

It was Johnny Pike.

The same boy she’d seen in her mother’s yearbook, the same boy her mother had been in love with years ago.

The same boy she thought could be her father.

Confusion clouded her brain. Why would Billy’s mother have a picture of Johnny when he was in high school? Had they been friends?

He wiped at his tears and kissed his mother’s cheek. “I know, Mama, I’ll take care of her.”

Cold terror seized Josie. She had to do something.

Desperate, she pointed to the picture. “Who is this, Billy?”

He wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve. For a moment he looked disoriented, as if she’d caught him off guard or his mind had drifted to another place.

Josie tried to soften her voice to keep him calm. “Do you know him?”

Billy’s big chubby face softened, and he took the framed picture, then traced his fingers over the boy’s face. “That’s my daddy.”

Josie’s throat closed. “Johnny Pike is your father?”

He bobbed his head up and down. “He’s kind of famous around these parts. But he had to go away before I was born.”

Nausea flooded Josie. Yeah, he’d gone away because he was a serial killer.

And now his son was following in his footsteps.