“I told you that.” He bent down and grabbed her suitcase. “Come on, I don’t want you here a minute longer, either.”
She carried her camera case and briefcase, while he followed with her suitcase. Reaching her car, she screeched to a halt. “Someone slashed my tires, George!” A deep trembling started within her, vibrating through every cell in her body. “Someone wanted me to be stranded.” She turned and peered around the cabin, then toward the thick woods and shadows. “He must be here watching me. He was waiting for me to come back alone.”
George grabbed her arm. “Come on, get in my car, Ivy. I’ll drive you back to Chattanooga. We can send for your car later.”
Ivy nodded, unable to escape the eerie feeling that the killer was nearby, watching her. That another second and he would have had her exactly where he’d wanted her.
Alone and vulnerable with nowhere to run.
HE HAD HER NOW.
A slow smile of satisfaction curled his mouth as Ivy climbed in the car. He inhaled her scent, her breath, eyed the tears still visible on her cheek. Something had happened to upset her. Something he guessed had to do with that Mahoney guy.
Something that had torn down her defenses and left her vulnerable.
And he had pounced.
She still had no idea what had happened that night with her parents. Still didn’t remember that he’d been there.
But she would.
He knew it without a doubt.
And he couldn’t keep pretending otherwise, worrying when the thin dam that held her memories at bay would crack and crumble, destroying him.
She settled inside his car, and the rattle of her shaky breathing filled the quiet. He would ask her what had happened, but doubted she’d confide in him yet. But he’d comfort her, anyway. Take the moment to soothe her worries until she trusted him again.
And then he’d have his way with her. Show her exactly how he felt. How much he’d wanted her all these months and years. How much he wanted her now.
Then the silence would be broken.
She would be his, just like Lily.
Then she would have to die.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
MATT GRIMACED AT the sight of the two federal agents waiting inside A.J.’s office. He half expected them to throw the cuffs on him and arrest him, although he certainly wasn’t the criminal here. But old habits were hard to break, and years of being abused by the system bred distrust. He had to make them understand what was going on. And he had to make sure Ivy was safe. Even if she wanted nothing more to do with him.
A.J. glared at the suited men, obviously angry at their interference. Introductions were stilted and cautious.
“Special Agent Lucas Gentry and Special Agent Karl Blackberry.”
“Sheriff Boles.” He gestured toward his father and introduced him. Arthur’s lawyer arrived, and Arthur pulled him aside to fill him in.
Matt squared his shoulders and introduced himself.
“What are you doing here, Mahoney?” Agent Blackberry asked.
Matt braced himself for the inquisition, then explained his reasons for coming to Kudzu Hollow, and the threats to Ivy. “I think everything going on here might be related. The Stantons’ murders. The recent crimes. But I haven’t figured out the connection yet.” He hesitated, waiting for A.J. to explain his relationship to Lily Stanton. But the man said nothing.
“Mr. Boles and the sheriff both admit being at Lily Stanton’s house the night she died,” Matt said.
Agents Gentry and Blackberry exchanged interested looks. “Go on.”
“Lily Stanton was a hooker,” Arthur said. “My son simply paid for services rendered.”
“Then I got drunk and passed out,” A.J. said, nearly stuttering. “I—didn’t kill the Stantons.”
“What about the land deal?” Matt asked, still unclear about the details.
“Land deal?” Agent Gentry asked.
Arthur shrugged but cast his eyes downward toward his fisted hands, then strode to the window. “I work in real estate. I connected Lily with this developer from Nashville who wanted to buy property around here. She intended to sell the junkyard and take the money and leave town.”
So she could move Ivy to a better place, Matt realized.
“What happened?” Agent Gentry asked.
“She died,” Boles said quietly. “The developer bought her property and the land next to the junkyard. He didn’t build on it, though, just held on to it for a few years.”
“Why didn’t he build?” Agent Blackberry asked.
Arthur hesitated, until his lawyer nodded for him to answer.
Agent Gentry cut in. “Tell the truth, Mr. Boles. We’ve been watching this town for a while. And when your son arrested these last two boys, we took a look at the drugs he confiscated.”
Boles’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“The lab faxed us results of the analysis of the drugs, and we’ve discovered some interesting properties in the mixture,” Agent Blackberry continued. “Reason for us to take a deeper look into the town here. Especially the property where the marijuana was grown.”
“What are you looking for?” A.J. asked in a wary voice.
“We’re not certain yet,” Agent Blackberry said. “But we have a team ready to interrogate the residents. And we intend to take soil samples where the boys grew this weed.”
Matt suddenly remembered seeing that empty scientific research building on his way to Arthur’s. He’d read articles in prison about chemicals being dumped illegally in rural areas, and how the dangerous toxins had been absorbed into the water and soil, causing birth defects. Erratic, violent behavior in children who’d ingested or inhaled the chemicals over long periods of time had also been cited. Was it possible…
“The original developer who bought the property didn’t build because a chemical company was dumping toxic wastes on the land?” Matt asked.
The agents perked up with interest, but Arthur dropped his head forward, sighing in defeat. “That’s correct.”
“You knew about this illegal dumping and didn’t report it?” Matt pressed.
The older man nodded. “But after a few years, the research company folded.”
“And no one was harmed, so what’s the big deal?” A.J. said, defending his father.
Matt let the comment slide. “So you bought the property and built a subdivision on it?”
Arthur rubbed an invisible spot on his tie. “Yes. The developer who bought the property sold it to me. I thought any effects of the chemicals would have long since disintegrated.”
Matt frowned, realization dawning as he recalled Lady Bella Rue’s comments. “Both those boys lived in the new subdivision built on the property near the junkyard, and so did most of the other kids who attacked their families the past few years.” He turned back to the federal agents. “You should check the land. Those chemicals might be responsible for the erratic behavior of the kids who live there. If the dangerous substances were absorbed into the water or soil, or even the trees used to build the log houses, then they could still be harmful.” He continued, speculating out loud. “All the reports show that the crimes occur during heavy bouts of rain. What if the wood used to build the log houses is diseased? Maybe there’s some kind of dangerous mold or bacteria growing inside it, and the rain accentuates it and brings out the spores.”
Agent Gentry muttered in agreement, and Arthur Boles shifted uncomfortably.
“You know something about this, don’t you?” Matt asked, turning to the real estate agent.
“I…no, but I was afraid it might be connected,” he admitted. “I just didn’t understand how.”
Agent Gentry unpocketed his cell phone and began to punch in numbers. “I’m ordering an environmental team out here right away to check the land, water and those houses. If you’re right, Mahoney, you might have just discovered the connection to all these crimes and saved lives.”
Matt hoped he was right, but a bad premonition tugged at his gut. The developer… Boles hadn’t mentioned who he was. What if he was the person who’d killed Ivy’s parents? No, it was more likely that some muscle man from the chemical company was responsible, someone who’d wanted to protect the business even though it had gone belly-up.
Then Ivy might still be in danger, and she was alone, upset and vulnerable.
Matt called the cabin on his cell, and got no answer, so he punched in her cell number, but she didn’t answer that, either. Panic hit him. “Who owned the chemical company?”
Boles cleared his throat. “A man named Russ Kintrell. The company was a small start-up research operation, but like I said, it folded years ago.”
Agent Blackberry handed him a pen and paper. “Write down Kintrell’s contact information.”
Boles scribbled a phone number, and Blackberry snapped it up. “I’m going to pick him up and bring him in for questioning.”
Matt stood. “I’m going with you.”
IVY’S NERVES ZINGED with apprehension when George veered off the main road leading out of town, onto a dirt one that led down to the river. At first she thought they were going to Lady Bella Rue’s, but he passed the old woman’s shanty and turned onto yet another even more isolated road that seemingly went nowhere but deeper into the bowels of the woods. The gray clouds roiled above, warning of another storm, and wind whipped through the bare trees, swirling leaves and debris across the marshy ground.
“Where are you going?” she asked, suddenly nervous. He’d been acting odd ever since they’d gotten in the car. Checking over his back. Looking at his watch. Acting unusually quiet and sullen.
“I did some research on this town myself, and heard about a place off this road that we might want to use in the magazine.”
“What kind of place?” Ivy asked.
“A haunted cabin,” he said, an odd tinge to his voice. “According to the legend, a young boy died here. After that, his brother went crazy.”
Ivy glanced through the shadowy woods. The tall trees and mountain ridges suddenly seemed ominous, the idea of visiting a haunted house sent a shudder through her. “We have enough for the article, George. Let’s just leave town and go back to Chattanooga.”
“Oh, but we’re so close to it, Ivy. They say if you stand in the cabin, you can hear tormented cries at night. Cries of him losing his mind, cries of the brother dying.”
Ivy hugged her arms around her middle. “Does anyone live there now?”
He shook his head. “The cabin has been deserted for years. But I thought you should see it and take some photographs.”
His tone sent alarm bells ringing through her. “Why, George? I told you, we have enough material for the magazine spread.”
He reached across the console and pressed his hand over hers. “Because the cabin belonged to Miss Nellie.”
Ivy gaped at him in shock. “Miss Nellie? She never told me…” Her voice trailed off as faint snatches of conversations with the older woman speared through the black holes of her memory. “Miss Nellie did say that she’d lost a son when he was young.”
“But she never mentioned the second son?” he asked, one eyebrow lifted.
Ivy swallowed hard, sorting through other conversations. “No, never.”
A bitter laugh escaped him, echoing off the inside of the car. “No, she never talked about her other child. She was too ashamed of him. She decided he was crazy, so she sent him away.”
Ivy’s stomach tightened. “Where did she send him?”
“A mental facility where they locked him up, tied him down and beat him. And sometimes they gave him drugs that made his mind spin out of control.”
Ivy gasped. “Oh, my heavens, that’s horrible.”
Tension vibrated between them as the first stirrings of fear gripped her. “Who told you this, George? I didn’t realize you knew Miss Nellie.”
“Oh, I knew her very well.” He angled his head toward her just as he bounced over a rut in the road and broke through a clearing to a dilapidated old cabin set on the edge of the mountain. “You see, Ivy, I’m the forgotten son.”
MATT TRIED AGAIN TO PHONE Ivy, but still she didn’t answer. Tension tightened every muscle in his body as he closed his phone. She probably wasn’t answering because she didn’t want to talk to him, he reminded himself, but still worry clawed at him.
Agent Blackberry maneuvered his sedan over the mountain to another small town called Ridgeview, noted for its scenic views of the valley and river. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
Matt explained his concern for Ivy. “We have to find her parents’ killer or she’ll never be safe.”
Blackberry nodded, then turned onto a long drive flanked by massive trees, which ended at a huge, two-story Georgian mansion. “Apparently Kintrell has done well for himself financially,” the agent stated as they climbed out. Seconds later, he rang the doorbell, while Matt tapped his foot impatiently.
He was antsy to complete this interview and find Ivy. Finally, a maid clad in a uniform greeted them at the door. “Special Agent Blackberry from the FBI,” the agent said, then gestured toward Matt. “And this is Matt Mahoney. I need to speak to Mr. Kintrell.”
The maid looked them both up and down, her nervous gaze shifting as if she might argue, but then she obviously decided she couldn’t stop the FBI, so gestured for them to enter. “He’s in his study. Please follow me.”
As soon as they entered the stately room and introduced themselves, Agent Blackberry explained the situation, including their suspicions about the chemical dumping and its hazardous effects.
Kintrell was a portly man in his fifties, with pocked skin and a tick in his shoulder. He slumped at his cherry desk and rolled his shoulders. “I’m going to call my attorney.”
Matt exploded. “Do you realize what your silence has already cost? Lives, Mr. Kintrell—a lot of
lives.
” He grabbed the man by his shirt collar and jerked him out of his seat. “Ivy Stanton’s parents were murdered because of that land. People adversely affected by the chemicals have turned on their own loved ones. And someone has been trying to kill Ivy because she’s returned to town asking questions.”
Agent Blackberry reached for Matt, but Matt glared at him and shook Kintrell until his eyes bulged.
“How many more murders do you want on your conscience?”
Kintrell turned a sickly shade of green. “I was afraid there might be fallout,” he admitted in a grave voice. “When Daly became ill, I…I was worried.”
“Daly?” Agent Blackberry interjected.
“The head chemist who was working on the research,” Kintrell muttered. “He was trying to develop a cure for cancer, and we thought we had something that would work, but the clinical studies failed.”
Matt released him so abruptly the man fell into his chair. “Was Daly taking the drug himself?” Matt asked.
Kintrell nodded. “He volunteered to be a control subject. But the drug reacted with the normal body in a different way, eating away brain cells, which adversely affected his behavior. So Daly dumped the chemicals into the soil to get rid of them.”
“And he never disclosed the dumping?” Matt asked.
“No, he had other projects he wanted the company to pursue. Unfortunately, he became ill.” Kintrell dropped his head in his hands in defeat. “He died five years after the study began, and the company folded.”
Agent Blackberry leaned forward on the desk. “And when it did, the land was sold again?”
“Yes, to Arthur Boles.” Kintrell’s shoulder jerked faster. “He knew about the dumping, but we were all certain any aftereffects would be long gone.”
Matt cursed, and Agent Blackberry ordered the man to stand. “We need you to come with us and make a statement. There are some other folks who will want to talk to you, the environmental team I have coming for one.”
“The people who bought houses on that property deserve the truth,” Matt added. “You have no idea the damage your cover-up operation has created in Kudzu Hollow.”
“We also need more details on the land deal and the chemical company’s work,” Agent Blackberry said as he escorted him to the car.
Matt frantically punched in Ivy’s number while the federal agent drove back to the station, but once again, she didn’t respond. Nervous tension gripped his muscles. Where the hell was she?
Was she simply not answering because she hated him, or was she in trouble again?
Frantic, he drove to the cabin. He had to see if Ivy was there, if she was safe.
But a bad premonition clutched at his gut….