Murillo clasps her hands to her mouth but says nothing. I continue.
“However it happened, he decided the way he was going to get to her was through the pain in her past. He spread rumors about her and Corey, who was in his criminal justice club at the time at Larsonville. He made fake pictures and created stories that would make her look crazy and eventually get her socially ostracized so she would leave. Which is exactly what happened. Only then they had to figure out how to handle the baby. Her parents were never going to accept them together, and he wasn’t about to lose Julia or their child. So, he created a fake study-abroad program. Her parents lapped it up. She stayed away just long enough to have the baby.
“So, this is where things get interesting. The two of them came here. Separately, of course, with no one knowing what was really going on. He met you and you started a relationship, while all the while he was raising his daughter, doling out time with her to Julia, and promising a future together. How am I doing? Sound about right?”
“Yes,” Murillo says weakly.
“But here’s the thing. What he wasn’t telling either of you, other than about each other, was that he was getting his kicks and filling his criminal justice research files by murdering girls on the side. Julia found out. I can’t be positive how, but I’d bet it had to do with that scarf she borrowed when she was visiting her daughter. I’m all but certain it was the scarf he used to kill Samantha Murray, and he just couldn’t stop himself from keeping it as a souvenir. To his surprise, she was fine with it. She loved him so much, all she cared about was their being together. He decided it was time to start their lives, so she left school, they got married, and he’s just kept on with his double life, playing both of you. Turns out that little piece of paper really did mean something, didn’t it? How did I do?”
“No,” Murillo whispers. “No. This can’t be real. They can’t be married.”
“Tell me. What did he say happened to his daughter? You must have at least seen her a few times before she left,” I say.
“He said he sent her to live with her mother so it could be just the two of us.”
I laugh. “I have to give it to the man. He’s smooth. And I guess he was telling the truth. At least about that part. He did send her to be with her mother. But it was never going to be just the two of you. He wouldn’t even live with you. He wanted to make sure he had plenty of time to be with his wife without your realizing it.”
“No,” Murillo repeats, shaking her head hard and nearly yelling.
“I guess it is difficult to wrap your head around the idea that the man you thought you were going to be with for the rest of your life is married to a girl you thought was dead for thirteen years. Why is that, by the way? Julia is obviously just fine.”
“No,” she says. “No, she’s not. And they can’t be married. She’s dead. I killed her.” She sags into a nearby chair and lowers her face to her hands, sobbing. “I killed her.”
“Eleanor,” I say, coming up to the side of the chair and crouching down so I can look at her face. “Listen to me. Look at me. The marriage certificate is fake. I made it. But the rest is true, and Julia is still out there. He manipulated you, Eleanor. He’s been lying to you for fifteen years. I need to know what happened.”
I listen as she tells her story. When she’s done, rage is coursing through me. I stand up and stare down at her.
“Tell me where to find him.”
Chapter Fifty-Six
“Sam?” I ask when I hear the other side of the line pick up, not giving him time to say anything.
“Emma,” he begins, but I cut him off.
“I have to go back in the woods we already searched,” I say. “Let the local cops know. I’m on my way.”
“So am I. I’m turning around,” Sam says. “I’ll call them, but you will probably get there first.” There is a pause, and he sighs. “I don’t suppose I could talk you into waiting for me to get there?”
“No,” I say. I’m not mad at him for asking, and I understand why. But I also can’t wait. “I’m sorry, Sam.”
“I’ll be there soon,” he says. “Keep your eyes open.”
“I will. I love you.”
“I love you too,” he says.
I hang up the phone and contemplate using the flashlight. I figure it will end up just alerting him to my presence more than it will help me see anything. My eyes will adjust to the lack of light but shining a light like that will only make me a bigger target.
I shut the car door quietly and take my first few steps toward the edge of the woods. The darkness is even more oppressive than I thought it would be. The chill in the air stings my lungs. I try to breathe slowly, deeply, both to calm my heart rate down and to not make as much noise or billow as much steam. The element of surprise is my best friend.
There is a faint path of brown muddy dirt, and I try to follow it as it winds its way into the trees. Several times, I think I see
