CHAPTER TWENTY

Ella stood on the Ayers" porch, eyeballing the place like it might sprout fangs and bite her. The house was a real slice of suburban paradise, with its crisp white siding and manicured hedges. The kind of joint where the HOA probably measured your grass with a ruler and fined you if it grew a millimeter too high.

She hated this part of the job. Hated it with the burning passion of a thousand suns. Dropping the A-bomb on some poor family, watching their world implode in real-time. It was enough to make her want to chuck her badge in the nearest river and take up basket weaving.

Luca fidgeted beside her, looking about as comfortable as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. ‘You want me to do the talking?' he asked.

Ella shook her head. The rookie was doing great, and the last thing she wanted was to douse his fire by throwing him into the deep end. ‘It's fine. I"m the bearer of bad news. It"s my cross to bear.'

She raised her fist to knock, then hesitated. How many doors had she darkened over the years? How many lives had she shattered with a few choice words? Sometimes, she felt less like a cop and more like the Grim Reaper"s personal secretary.

Luca cleared his throat. ‘You gonna knock, or should I go fetch a battering ram?'

Ella shot him a look that could curdle milk. ‘Keep your pants on, Hawkins. I"m working up to it.'

She sucked in a breath, steeling herself, then gently rapped on the door.

For a long moment, nothing. Then the muffled sound of footsteps, and the door swung open.

Julie Ayers was a knockout, the kind of woman who made Ella feel like yesterday"s leftovers wrapped in a dirty dish towel. All legs and curves poured into yoga pants and a silk blouse that probably cost more than Ella"s monthly rent. Her hair was artfully tousled in that ‘I woke up like this' way that actually took three hours and a team of stylists to achieve.

She blinked at them, confusion wrinkling her perfect brow. ‘Can I help you?'

Ella flashed her badge. ‘Mrs. Ayers? I"m Special Agent Ella Dark, and this is my partner, Agent Hawkins. We"re with the FBI. We need to talk to you about your husband, Marcus.'

Julie"s eyes narrowed, suspicion blooming like a toxic flower. ‘Marcus? What about him?'

‘Ma"am, when was the last time you saw your husband?'

Julie shrugged, the movement graceful as a ballet dancer. ‘Yesterday morning, I think? He left for work early, said he had a big project due.'

Ella blinked, thrown for a loop. She"d been bracing for tears, for the anguished wails of a woman who knew, deep down, that her world was about to shatter. But Julie looked about as concerned as if Ella had asked about the weather.

‘You"re not worried that he didn"t come home last night?'

Julie"s laugh was musical. Like wind chimes in a summer breeze. ‘Oh, honey. Marcus works late all the time. Sometimes he doesn"t stumble home until the next afternoon, dead on his feet. I"ve learned not to wait up.'

Ella"s stomach twisted into a vicious knot. This was worse, so much worse. Usually, the partners of missing people expect bad news to show up on their doorstep eventually. How did you tell someone their loved one was never coming home when it was the last thing they expected?

She opened her mouth, but before she could drop the bomb, Luca stepped in.

‘Mrs. Ayers,' he said, his voice gentle as a padre at confession. ‘I"m so sorry to have to tell you this, but we found your husband"s body this morning. He"s dead, ma"am.'

The world seemed to stop. The birds fell silent, the breeze died, even the sun seemed to dim. For a heartbeat, Julie just stared, uncomprehending. The woman was probably weighing up the likelihood of this being a dream or a prank or a case of mistaken identity.

Then Julie's face crumpled like wet cardboard.

‘No,' she whispered. ‘No, that"s not... He can"t be...'

And then she was falling, her legs giving out like someone had cut her strings. Luca lunged forward, catching her before she could hit the ground. He lowered her gently, murmuring soothing nonsense as Julie began to wail.

It was a sound Ella had heard too many times before. The keening cry of a soul in agony, of a heart breaking in real-time. It cut through her like a serrated knife, leaving ragged edges that would never quite heal.

As Julie sobbed into Luca"s shoulder, Ella stood frozen on the porch. She watched the scene unfold like it was happening to someone else, in some other life. In that moment, she would"ve given anything to be anywhere else. To be anyone else.

‘We're sorry,' Ella said, already fully aware that any word or action was futile. Julie was broken and would stay broken until her dying day.