Cold Death by Mary Stone (best e reader for android TXT) 📕

The realization triggered a memory, and Ellie was transported back to the cold, damp warehouse where the battered woman with the short, dark hair was tied to the chair opposite her. The other prisoner’s face was clearer this time, allowing Ellie to glimpse the Cupid’s bow mouth and wary, wide-set eyes. Strip off the thick layers of makeup, and the woman became a girl. Three, maybe only four years older than Ellie had been.

Combined with the skimpy clothes and caked-on eyeshadow, her jutting collarbones and skinny arms and legs pegged the girl as living on the streets.

Ellie recalled one particular moment when Kingsley had sneered down his nose at the woman after she’d called him a sick fuck who probably got off on torturing women. Kingsley had looked at her in almost the exact same manner as Letitia and said, “You can’t expect me to give credence to the opinions of a slut like you.”

Spoken in the exact same derisive tone that Letitia Wiggins had used to describe her own child.

Not an endearing quality in someone whose past job was tending to other people’s children.

By the time Ellie cleared her head, Letitia Wiggins was turning away. “If you have anything else to ask, you’ll have to speak with my lawyer.” The bell jingled as she swept into the salon.

Ellie stood her ground outside the door long enough to wiggle her fingers at the aggravating woman through the glass wall when she peered out. Once Letitia whirled away, Ellie dumped the nasty coffee into a trash can and returned to the waiting SUV.

The usually taciturn Shane caught up with her and spared her a glance as she climbed into the passenger seat, his eyes hidden behind a pair of aviator-style sunglasses. “She’s not your favorite person.”

“Whatever gave you that impression?” At his grunt, Ellie shook her head and strapped the seat belt across her chest. “You’re right. She’s not. She reminds me too much of a monster.”

Shane knew better than to pry. “Where to now?”

Ellie scrolled through her phone until she located the necessary information. “Next, we’re going to pay Dorothy Hindman a visit.”

She rattled off the address, staring out the windshield while her bodyguard programmed the details into the GPS. Minutes later, the Explorer was cruising down the interstate toward the residence of the former Far Ridge Academy’s secretary.

Ellie used the forty-minute trip north to rehearse questions. They arrived before noon, with Shane pulling the SUV up to the curb in front of a simple, one-story home in an attractive but ungated retirement community. A little duck pond was located across the street, where two senior citizens lounged in camping chairs and cast fishing lines into one end.

A welcome mat decorated with daisies sat beneath a cheery red door, but the woman in the baby blue track suit who opened the door was anything but. Her mouth was turned down into a permanent frown, and she glowered when Ellie introduced herself.

“I don’t give a single hoot if you’re the president of the United States let alone some lady detective. I don’t have anything to say about Far Ridge or anyone who worked there.”

Dorothy Hindman planted her sturdy legs wide and glared through maroon-rimmed bifocals. The top of her pink-tinted white head didn’t even reach Ellie’s shoulder, but what she lacked in inches, she more than made up for in attitude.

“What about Lawrence Kingsley, then? Can you tell me about him or where I might be able to find him?”

If Dorothy’s mouth turned down before, now it positively drooped. She threw her hands up in the air. “And now you’re asking about that poor boy? What is this?”

“I’m sorry…poor boy? Why poor boy?” To the best of Ellie’s recollection, no one had ever referred to Kingsley like that before.

The former secretary smacked her forehead and made a frustrated noise. “Why do you think? Because of the way Letitia abused him, of course. Isn’t that why you’re here?”

“Letitia abused Kingsley? As in physically?”

While Ellie tried to wrap her head around that revelation, the secretary scoffed. “I don’t know, you tell me. Is that what they’re calling child molestation these days?”

The accusation dealt Ellie a stunning blow, leeching the oxygen from her lungs. Letitia had molested Kingsley? Was that possible? Hank Crawford hadn’t so much as eluded to that in his podcasts or during their in-person meeting.

“Let me make sure I have this straight. You believe that Letitia Wiggins, the former headmaster’s wife of Far Ridge Boy’s Academy, had sexual relations with Lawrence Kingsley while he was a student there?”

Dorothy harrumphed. “That’s right. I believe it, and so does just about everyone else who was at the academy at the time. It was the talk of the school.”

“And Walter Wiggins? Did he know?”

The older woman threw her hands up in the air. “Well, who can rightly say? But he sure didn’t let her keep that baby she whelped later on that year, did he?”

Baby? A terrible suspicion poked at Ellie. No…surely not…

“The baby was given up for adoption, right? Can you tell me more about that?”

“No, I cannot, because, unlike some people,” the woman scowled at Ellie, “I know how to mind my own business.”

“I understand. Can you—” Ringing from her jacket pocket interrupted her. Ellie waited until the noise stopped to finish the question, but a chirp followed the call. “Excuse me.”

She pulled her phone out to read the text from Clay.

Call me back ASAP. Important.

Her gut clenched. “I’m so sorry, but I need to return this call quickly.”

Leaving Dorothy to harrumph and glower from the doorway, Ellie turned and retreated a few steps back toward the curb while the line rang.

“Clay? What is it?”

“Katarina.” He sounded like he was running. “She’s escaped from the hospital.”

22

Ellie unlocked her apartment door to seventy pounds of exuberant, slobbering dog. Sam wiggled from head to toe with her tongue dangling out, threading between Ellie’s legs and whining until she stopped and patted her black, furry head. “What, did