The Innocent Girls: A completely gripping mystery and suspense thriller (Detective Casey White Book 2) Read online

  THE INNOCENT GIRLS

  A COMPLETELY GRIPPING MYSTERY AND SUSPENSE THRILLER

  B.R. SPANGLER

  BOOKS BY B.R. SPANGLER

  Detective Casey White Series

  Where Lost Girls Go

  The Innocent Girls

  Saltwater Graves

  The Crying House

  The Memory Bones

  The Lighthouse Girls

  Taken Before Dawn

  The Outer Banks Crime Thriller Series

  Deadly Tide

  The Affair with Murder Psychological Thriller Series

  1. Killing Katie

  2. Painful Truths

  3. Grave Mistakes

  A Cozy Mystery

  An Order of Coffee and Tears

  Caustic, a Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian Thriller Series

  1. Fallen

  2. Endure

  3. Deceit

  4. Reveal

  A Paranormal Supernatural Thriller

  Superman’s Cape

  AVAILABLE IN AUDIO

  Detective Casey White Series

  Where Lost Girls Go (Available in the UK and the US)

  The Innocent Girls (Available in the UK and the US)

  Saltwater Graves (Available in the UK and the US)

  The Crying House (Available in the UK and the US)

  The Memory Bones (Available in the UK and the US)

  The Lighthouse Girls (Available in the UK and the US)

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Saltwater Graves

  Hear More from B.R. Spangler

  Books by B.R. Spangler

  A Letter from B.R. Spangler

  Where Lost Girls Go

  The Crying House

  The Memory Bones

  The Lighthouse Girls

  Taken Before Dawn

  Acknowledgments

  *

  To my friends and family for their love, support, and patience.

  PROLOGUE

  I imagined your first innocent kiss. Sixth grade. The end of a school dance. A cloudy gray day coming to an end, the night just starting to fall, and the moon slipping into the open.

  You wore makeup for the first time. Nothing over the top. Just enough to put some color in your cheeks and a touch of the same on your lips. I added a tiny bit of eyeshadow over your eyes too. The same as mine, you’d insisted.

  When the moment came, there was a gust of wind, tree branches black against the sky, clacking and spitting autumn foliage. You heard none of it though, your eyes on his. You smiled nervously, bashful and shy, the boy reaching for your hand.

  I clutched your father’s arm as we spied through the window. The tree let out a soft groan as though approving. The wind subsided as the moonlight shone on your faces. I held my breath when you leaned in and kissed him.

  I miss you, Hannah.

  ONE

  It started with an argument. It ended with murder.

  Lisa’s chest went tight while she held her words inside and waited for what her parents would say next. Her plan was simple. She’d told them she’d hook up with friends at the boardwalk arcade, near the old change machine, the broken one that sometimes spat out five tokens for a dollar instead of four. So why were they making such a big deal out of it?

  She peeked through the window to see the daylight retreating. She shifted restlessly. The sun had already dropped below the horizon, which meant she’d only have the moonlight to guide her. But the darkness and the late hour weren’t the problem. Her parents were. Could they know somehow? About him? Maybe they were on to her. Maybe they knew she wasn’t telling them everything. After all, the boardwalk wasn’t the only place she was going tonight.

  Daytime in the Outer Banks meant sun, sand and surf. It meant oiled bodies and beach towels. It meant ocean spray in your face, sand between your toes, and cool breezes on your wet skin. It meant all these things, and all this was why Lisa insisted they vacation there.

  The night-time meant the boardwalk and adrenaline-pumping rides. It meant food and friends and crowding into a photo booth to take goofy photographs. It also meant boys, fleeting summer crushes, and evenings ending with a kiss. But this evening was for someone else, and not even boardwalk crushes could keep her away.

  She heard a memory, heard his voice, his words. A flutter ticked inside her chest, and her heart swelled. There was a place she had to be. It was her secret: no beach, no boardwalk, and certainly no parents. Eight twelve, the time on the wall-clock read, the second hand sweeping around the top, the smooth motion needling her, urging her to leave. I could do that. I could just leave. She couldn’t be late. Not to see him.

  A nudge, cold and wet brushed against the back of her knee. Lisa reached for Tiny and ran her fingers behind his ears. The RV’s space was already tight, but they couldn’t have left their aging German shepherd with a boarder. Would they have known how frail he was? Or how to feed him properly? She left her seat, kneeling as parental voices droned on, their figures in Tiny’s cloudy eyes. She took to rubbing the dog’s legs, hoping it brought him relief, the joints stiff and swollen with arthritis.

  “Are you even listening?” her mother barked, a crease forming in her brow, the wrinkles deeper since her weight gain.

  “I’m listening,” Lisa answered sharply. But it was a lie.

  Her mother made the face then. It was a look Lisa knew to be a bad sign. They were far from home, having rented an RV, a first for their family, but the vacation had become a disaster, and her parents complained about it constantly.

  It was their size that was the problem, the quarters too cramped, the space unusually tight. Lisa sat at the center of the RV, far enough to be safely out of the way, a narrow hall separating her from them. Out of nowhere, Lisa imagined them suddenly getting stuck, their bodies wedged between the kitchen counters. She imagined having to call the fire department, the firefighters coated in grime and sweat, their muscled arms taking to the RV’s shell with clacking mechanical jaws to rip into it like a tin can and free her parents. A smile crept to her lips, but she hid it, knowing if she laughed now, that’d really get them going.

&n
bsp; “You’re just too young,” her mother continued, her tone adamant.

  “I’m thirteen,” Lisa said, her voice sharp, tears standing in her eyes. Some of her reaction was born from emotion, and some of it was rehearsed, helping her get what she wanted. “I see a lot of kids out at night.”

  “It’s because you’re only thirteen,” her mother explained, her voice pitchy, her neck and cheeks pinking. She fanned the air. “And why is it so damn hot?”

  “I’m thirteen,” Lisa repeated. She needed the time away from them. Now more than ever. “I just want to hang out with my friends!”

  “For a week,” her father objected, his voice booming. Lisa reeled back. He caught her reaction and said in a calmer voice, “Lisa, you’ve only been thirteen for a week. And who are these friends? We’re on vacation. We’re on an island that’s hundreds of miles from our home.”

  A long pause. Tiny whimpered and nudged Lisa again, wanting to be petted. “For Christ’s sake, be reasonable,” her mother said, wiping sweat from her face.

  “You be reasonable!” Lisa shouted, standing and smacking the table. The tone cut the air and a sting set in her palm. “They’re just friends.”

  “Where did you meet these friends?” her mother asked, her voice hanging on the last word. Tiny followed the exchange, his head swaying back and forth. Her mother poured a glass of wine, the fruity smell pungent. “All your friends are home in Pennsylvania.”

  Lisa chewed nervously on her upper lip. “These are a different group of friends. I met them online.”

  Her father’s eyes blazed as he traded looks with her mother. Lisa realized her mistake in her choice of words.

  “But I’ve known them for almost a year.”

  “Online?” he asked, breathing hard, his face a ruddy color. He ran his fingers through his thinning hair, brushing it from his damp forehead. “Can you even hear yourself? What have we told you about people online? They’re strangers.”

  “Dad,” she began, her hand in the air, hoping he’d settle. She didn’t like when he looked like that. Her best friend’s father used to get that way, red in the face. And then he died. “Dad, they are real.”

  “Have you ever met any of them in person?” her mother asked, her lips on the wineglass, her voice a hollow echo.

  “Sometimes we video chat.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful,” her mother muttered. She shook her head and hastily tipped the bottle for a refill.

  “Video chat?” her father asked, his tone shifting. He rubbed the back of his neck, thinking.

  Tiny’s ears perked up, as did Lisa’s brow. She’d struck an interest.

  “Yeah, we video chat all the time,” she added, believing it would help. “Like you said, Dad, with the tech these days, the world is a much smaller place.”

  “I have an idea,” he began, surprising them. “How about I drive Lisa to the boardwalk?”

  Her mother tilted her head, a sign she was listening. But Tiny leaped onto all fours and gave a sudden bark, enormous in the RV, at a shuffling sound outside. The hairs on his nape rose as Lisa’s mother pointed a finger, until he sat down.

  “Come on, boy,” Lisa said, coaxing Tiny to come closer to her.

  When the outside was silent again, her father continued. “Tell you what. I’ll drop Lisa at the boardwalk where I can see her friends. And if I’m comfortable with what I see, then I’ll—”

  The crash came without notice, her father’s words lost amidst an explosion of metal and glass and particle board, the pieces flying inward like confetti at a parade. Lisa saw a foot and then a leg, a black leather boot, the heel thick and raised. Next, she saw a man, his face covered. She saw a wine glass shattering against the floor and her mother’s round face frozen in a scream.

  Lisa sunk down and scampered into the RV’s bathroom, coaxing Tiny to follow, their motion hidden behind her father as they made their way inside.

  The RV’s bathroom was small, like the kind in an airplane. From behind the pleated door she saw her parents’ legs. Commotion erupted, flesh pounding with grunts and yells. Through the panic, she had one thought: the police. She searched for her cell phone but found her pocket empty. Wide eyed, she peered through the opening and scanned the RV, finding the mess of white charging cables sprouting from a wall socket next to the wine bottle, a spaghetti strand plugged into her cell phone.

  “What are you doing? What do you want?” her father yelled. Bodies crashed against the sides of the RV. His voice again, breathless, “Is it money? We have traveler’s checks, maybe some—”

  “Oh my God!” her mother screamed. “Oh please God no!”

  A blade was revealed, a hard light glinting as the intruder raised it above his head and plunged it into her mother’s neck. At once, her mother’s screaming ceased. Lisa ducked inside, covering her ears, all of her senses feeding on the nightmare beyond the pleated doors. She felt a huge thud vibrate through her like a heavy sack hitting the floor. Lisa had to see, had to look, and wished she hadn’t. Her mother was down, her legs kicking, her lips blue, her mouth a peculiar pucker, opening and closing as she desperately tried covering the gash in her neck.

  Lisa’s father was a large man, but softer than the muscly young suitor she’d often admired from the family’s old photo albums when he was courting her mother. He took to the attacker with hands balled into fists like clubs, his knees lunging and overwhelming. Lisa held onto Tiny, his teeth bared with a menacing growl. She gripped the dog’s coat as hard as she could, knowing it would hurt, but knowing he’d be killed if she didn’t keep him inside the bathroom with her. Lisa tears were silent, her cries pinched by the terror gripping her.

  She had to turn away again, wishing she could cover her ears, but having to hold Tiny as the fight was heard and felt, her father taking a stand. Lisa eyed the window above the toilet. An escape. She peered back into the RV, saw the bloodied knife on the floor, a hammer in the attacker’s hand, swinging wildly. There was a whoosh and a sharp thwack as the head of the hammer struck her father. His body twitched and twisted as he fell to his knees, a fold of skin dangling from his forehead. He swiped errantly at the wound while trying to regain his balance.

  For a moment, Lisa could see the attacker, she could see all of him—his head and shoulders and front were covered in black, like the boots and pants he was wearing. She recognized the gear then, padded, the kind she’d worn with her father during paintball tournaments.

  Her father saw Lisa, and motioned curtly, the expression on his face horrifying. “Run,” he mouthed. “Run now!”

  Tears streamed down Lisa’s cheeks, all emotion this time, her mother dying or already dead, her father in a battle for his life. With her father’s focus on her, the attacker struck again, the blow dense, cracking, and sickening. Lisa saw her father’s fingers flex erratically.

  She swallowed her cries and slithered toward the window, dragging Tiny. Despite his age she could feel him gaining strength, his ancestral instincts telling him to fight, to defend. She blocked her dog, clutching the door’s thin panels, her fingers frantically tracing the edges to secure it. The door’s latch was broken, leaving a frightful sliver of light eking through. Her heart cramped with a nightmare, her pulse beating feverishly in her head.

  She grabbed the trashcan, near full, and rummaged through the litter until her fingers found a spent toothpaste tube. She curled the plastic-aluminum in half, rolling the remains, and formed a makeshift doorstop. She pinched the end, shoving it beneath the door panel, fixing it in place. It worked, but wouldn’t hold anyone trying to enter.

  She struck at her doorstop once more, forcing it deeper as a scream from her father stopped her mid strike. The gruesome sound resonated throughout the RV, his voice cut short in a clotted and choking breath. The noise from the fight ended, the silence piercing. The killer had finished. Her eyes dried at once, the need to cry distant, her emotions replaced with a fear so dreadful her mind could barely comprehend it. She was going to die.

  Th
e window. She searched the inky black on the other side of the glass until her eyes adjusted. The faint shape of trees appeared, silhouetted, showing her the campground’s wooded lot. The window was short, narrow. She was growing, the cold winter bringing curves to her middle like her friends. Would she fit through?

  She heard footsteps. Tiny fidgeted, his ears perked, his hair standing, his teeth bared. He wanted out of the bathroom. Lisa took hold of him, laying his head across her lap and covered his nose and mouth, squeezing, desperate to keep him quiet.

  “Please,” she begged, whispering into his ear. She dared not wipe her tears. Dared not make another sound.

  He answered with a whimper that crescendoed into a growl, a response to the activity beyond the door.

  Her toothpaste doorstop held, but an edge of light remained, enough for her to dare a look. She saw her father’s body lying next to her mother’s—his eyes huge, round like saucers, lifeless. The killer stood over her father’s body, his frame set in black, the knife back in his hand, the hammer in the other. He glanced over his shoulder as though he knew Lisa might be watching. She froze, squeezing Tiny’s head and holding her breath. She told herself to look away, but couldn’t make herself move.