CHAPTER TWENTY
“Alright,” Sawyer said, his voice gruff. “We're here. What's so important?”
Ilse didn't wait to convince the man; she simply stepped through the tangle of branches dangling over the muddy hollow, moving deep into the second lair.
Now, thank heavens, the bodies had been removed.
The deer skull on the wall still remained, broken eye sockets gaping. The miry walls and floors showed telltale portions, free of dust where the corpses had been posed.
Ilse's heart pounded and her chest heaved as images darted across her mind's eye. Pictures of her father, a shovel in hand, mud striking her chest. Pictures of the smiley face of corpses her own sister had posed back in that worn farm. She gritted her teeth at this last memory. Her sister had posed bodies too. Her motive had been
