CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Ella stormed back into the precinct with the threatening letters tucked under her arm, each one carefully sealed in an evidence bag to preserve any trace of the sick freak who"d penned them.

But even as she moved with purpose, her mind was a million miles away, spinning like a hamster wheel on speed.

Mia. Missing. The words circled round and round like a skipping record needle. Her partner, her rock, the one constant in the shitstorm of her life – AWOL.

It couldn"t be real. Couldn"t be happening. Not now, not like this. They were fighting, yeah, caught in the fallout of secrets kept and lines crossed. But Mia was a goddamn force of nature, indestructible, unbreakable. It didn't make a lick of sense. She didn't do damsel in distress. The only way she'd disappear is if she was no longer bound by her own willpower.

Martin. Martin goddamn Godfrey. It had to be him.

But what could she do? She was four-hundred miles away, and she had a killer to catch. Part of her thought about ditching this place and heading home. Start at Mia's house, follow the trail, try and uncover where exactly the stupid old hag might have vanished to.

She booted up her ancient laptop and stabbed the keys harder than necessary. Anything to keep her hands busy while her mind spun. And Luca, bless his pretty-boy heart, clocked her mood in two seconds flat.

‘You okay, Ella? You look like someone just peed in your cereal.'

‘That's just my face.' She smacked the side of the monitor, muttered a curse as the cursor froze midscreen.

‘Hey, c'mon. Was it something at Toledo's place?'

‘No. I mean, yeah.' A lie, bold-faced as brass balls. But the truth wasn"t an option. Not when she could barely admit it to herself.

‘Really.' Luca"s tone said he wasn"t buying her bullcrap, not for a red cent. ‘You know I can read you like a book.'

Damn him. Damn his quick eyes and his keen instincts and his uncanny knack for ferreting out her soft spots. She couldn"t afford this, not now. Couldn"t risk cracking open the vault of her messed-up psyche when there was a killer to catch.

‘I"m fine.' She infused the words with steel. ‘Just… something on the phone.'

Luca's eyebrows shot up his head. ‘Wanna narrow that down?'

‘I said I"m fine.' It came out harsher than she"d intended. Luca blinked, hand falling away. Guilt twinged in Ella"s chest, but she pushed it down. Shoved it into the overflowing box labeled ‘stuff to deal with never.'

She didn"t have time for this. Didn"t have the luxury of falling apart, of leaning on someone else"s strength. She'd handle her business like she always did – alone.

‘Sorry,' she said. ‘I didn't mean it like that.'

‘Don't sweat it. We all have our bitch days.'

Ella accepted the backhanded justification. Then said, ‘Just...man the fort for a sec, okay? I gotta make a call.'

Luca hesitated, clearly torn between pushing and giving her space. But in the end, he conceded defeat. ‘Whatever you say, boss.'

She ducked into the hall, pulling out her phone with clumsy fingers. Scrolled through her contacts until she found the one she wanted – Mia"s house sitter, Rafe Portillo.

The guy was a godsend, always ready to swoop in at a moment"s notice when a case demanded Mia"s undivided attention. Which was pretty much always – life in the Bureau didn"t exactly lend itself to a regular plant-watering schedule. He lived on the farm that backed onto Mia's garden, so he could have eyes on her house going forward.

Ella hit the call button, pacing a tight circuit as it rang once, twice. On the third, Rafe picked up.

‘Hello, Rafe speaking.'

‘Rafe. It"s Ella Dark. Mia's partner.'

A beat of startled silence. Then: ‘Ella? Ah, of course. What can I do for you?'

She could picture him now, the confusion scrawled across his expressive face. She"d only met him a handful of times, passed like ships in Mia"s chic Beacon Hill digs. But he"d always struck her as a good guy. Salt of the earth, for all the froufrou trappings of his gig.

‘I need to ask you something. About Mia.'

‘Shoot.'

‘Have you seen her today?'

‘No,' Rafe said. ‘Won't be seeing her until Friday.'

‘Heard from her today?'

‘No. Sorry. Why?'

Ella debated how much to tell him. She didn't want to worry him, but at the same time, he could be her eyes back in D.C. in case Mia miraculously reappeared.

‘Mia's gone AWOL. The Bureau are looking for her.'

‘You're kidding?' Rafe said. A burst of static came down the line. ‘Give me twenty minutes. I'll head over to her place and check.'

The wave of gratitude that crashed over her was dizzying. She couldn"t afford to give into it, to feel anything. But damn if this man wasn"t a godsend.

‘That would be great. Thank you.'

‘Leave it with me. Call you back soon.'

She punched End Call before the lump in her throat could betray her, stuffed her phone back in her pocket like it burned. Took a deep, shuddery breath and held it until her lungs screamed uncle.

Then she pushed off the wall and stared down the briefing room door like it was an enemy combatant. Showtime.

She strode back into the office, game face firmly in place. Luca looked up as she approached, a question in his eyes, but he had the decency to avoid it.

‘Hawkins.' Her voice held all the warmth of a January grave. ‘Sorry for being a bitch two minutes back. I feel like a fool.'

‘Shush. We got something.'

‘We do?'

‘Your friend Amelia called me while you were out. Said she had a hit on the handwriting.'

Ella blinked, wrongfooted. ‘She called you?'

Something unreadable flickered across Luca"s face, there and gone too quick to parse. ‘Uh, yeah. She said she couldn"t reach you.'

Ella frowned and dug out her phone again. Sure enough, there was a missed call from Amelia, time-stamped less than five minutes ago. Amelia giving updates to Luca instead of her. It was a strange feeling. A hot rush of some tangled emotion swept through her, one she didn"t care to examine too closely.

‘What did she say?'

‘To impart glad tidings and solve our case for us, turns out. She ran our scratch samples through FISH. Got a match within ten minutes.'

‘…FISH?'

Luca huffed a laugh. ‘Forensic Information System for Handwriting. Some newfangled Fed thing, catalogs writing samples from all over. Suspects, persons of interest, your mailman. You name it, it"s in there.'

Huh. Ella chewed the inside of her cheek, digesting that. Luca made it feel like she'd been asleep for the past two years. Maybe she really ought to start checking her memos.

‘And Cyber Crimes has access to this thing?'

‘Them and God, sounds like. Point is, your pal ran the numbers and came up cherries. Vault blew wide open. Here, look. She's emailed the info over.'

Luca navigated to his inbox, double-clicked, pulled up a photocopy of some official document.

‘Court records. Divorce proceedings, to be exact. And check out the signatures at the bottom.' Luca"s finger traced the cramped, spidery scrawls. ‘Look familiar?'

Damn. It was dead on.

The handwriting on the decree was a dead ringer for their deranged epistler. Same off-kilter slant, same mangled serifs. Trying to pass itself off as normal, respectable. And failing miserably.

‘Amelia said that whoever wrote those letters tried to disguise their handwriting, but the occasional real letter slipped through.'

‘We"ve got a name?' Her hackles were up, bloodhound on the scent.

Luca tapped the bottom of the page. ‘Vernon Creed. Ring any bells?'

Ella frowned, turning it over. Sounded vaguely familiar, in that nebulous politician way. ‘No. He local?'

‘Bristol native. Lost his bid for re-election to the city council last year. Three guesses who he lost it to.'

‘Toledo.' She didn"t even have to ask. The shape of it was forming in her mind"s eye, the tangled skein of motive and opportunity. Ella's veins began to pulse with molten energy. A million tiny sparks danced up her forearms.

Was this their unsub?

‘So Creed"s what, a sore loser? Figures he"ll even the score from beyond the political grave?'

‘Could be. But whatever it is, we need to visit this guy right now.'

A scorned councilman, ousted by a hot new face on the scene. Death threats in the mail. Drowned and discarded like vermin. Ella was all but ready to run to the parking lot.

‘Grab his address,' she said. ‘Let's go dig up some bones.'