CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

Ella stood in the middle of what might as well have been a graveyard. Rows of skeletal trees stretched as far as the eye could see, their gnarled branches reaching for a sky that hadn"t dropped a lick of rain in months. This orchard used to be the pride of Liberty Grove, apparently, and now it was just another casualty of the drought that was strangling the life out of everything it touched.

The sun beat down like a sadistic prison guard, baking the cracked earth and turning the air into a shimmering mirage. Ella could feel sweat trickling down her spine, soaking into her shirt like a junkie"s last hit. But it wasn"t the heat that had her stomach doing backflips.

No, that honor belonged to the poor bastard sprawled out at her feet.

Another vic. Another life snuffed out by their mystery killer with a hard-on for drowning folks. Ella"s eyes swept over the body, cataloging details in her machine-brain that unfortunately didn't have an empathy off switch. No matter how many stiffs she"d seen over the years – and Christ, she"d seen enough to fill a small town cemetery – it never got easier. Each one was a grim reminder of how cheap life could be in a world gone mad.

The victim was mid-thirties if she had to guess. Lean and wiry, the kind of build you got from honest work, not some overpriced gym membership. His clothes were filthy, caked with dirt and sweat; the calloused hands of a man who"d never known a day when he wasn"t busting his ass just to keep food on the table.

And he was soaking wet. Every inch of him drenched, like he"d decided to take a swim fully clothed. Only there wasn"t a body of water for miles, and the only liquid this poor sap had been swimming in lately was six feet of terror before his lungs filled up and the lights went out.

She tore her gaze away from the corpse and scanned the crime scene. Luca was there, swapping details with some officers. Sheriff Tucker and his boys milled around, faces grim as pallbearers at a funeral. They all knew the score. This wasn"t just another body; it was an escalation, a message written in flesh and blood.

Tucker lumbered over with a plastic evidence bag clutched in his meaty paw. ‘Well, at least we know his name,' he grunted, flashing a driver"s license through the clear plastic. ‘Jeremiah Clancy.'

Ella"s eyes narrowed as she studied the photo. Same guy, alright. Only in the picture, his eyes weren"t glazed over with death"s final surprise. ‘Where"d you find it?'

"On the body. The wallet was still in his back pocket."

Odd, Ella thought. Their killer was either getting cockier or sloppier. ‘Leaving ID on the vic is a rookie move, the kind of thing that gets you caught faster than you can say ‘life without parole.' Unless...'

‘Unless he wants us to know who they are,' Luca said as he arrived. ‘It's part of the message.'

‘Right. This is no accident. Our unsub's putting everyone on notice.' Ella leaned down to get a better a closer look at this Jeremiah Clancy gentleman. No visible wounds, no ligature marks, nothing to suggest a struggle. Just another drowned rat dumped like yesterday"s trash. ‘Yeah. Looks like our buddy"s sticking to his playbook, at least in terms of approach and disposal.'

‘He"s escalating. Fast. Three vics in what, two days? This is a spree, not a serial.'

‘Tell me about it.' Ella stood, brushing dirt from her knees. Her mind raced, piecing together the puzzle with the grim determination of a woman who knew the clock was ticking. ‘I think he knows we"re here. Trying to finish his hit list before we can shut him down.'

‘Christ.' Luca ran a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking up like he"d jammed his finger in a light socket. ‘So what"s the play? We"re running out of time, and this psycho"s running up the body count like he"s going for a high score.'

‘We go hard, we go fast. Put out an APB for anyone reported missing in the last couple hours. Canvas the town, shake down every lowlife and scumbag who might"ve seen something. I want eyes and ears on every street corner, every back alley, every goddamn rat hole in this dried-up excuse for a town.'

She turned to Tucker, who"d been hovering nearby like a vulture waiting for the main course. ‘Sheriff, I need your boys to hit the pavement. Talk to Clancy"s family, friends, co-workers. Find out where he was last seen, who he was with, what he had for breakfast this morning. I want to know everything about this guy, down to what brand of toilet paper he used. A guy like this wouldn't be easy to subdue.'

Tucker nodded, already barking orders into his radio. Ella watched him go, a gnawing emptiness settling in her gut like a bad case of indigestion. She was good at her job – damn good – but right now she felt about as useful as screen doors on a submarine.

‘What aren"t you telling me?' Luca"s voice cut through her brooding like a knife through butter.

Ella met his gaze, seeing the worry etched in the lines around his eyes. For a split second, she considered lying. Putting on the tough-as-nails Fed act and pretending everything was under control. But Luca deserved better than that. Hell, they all did.

‘We"re already too late,' she said. ‘Clancy here? He"s been dead for hours. Rigor"s already setting in. And I"d bet my badge that our killer"s got his next vic picked out and trussed up like a Christmas turkey, concrete shoes and all.'

Luca"s face fell, understanding dawning like the world"s ugliest sunrise. ‘You think he"s got another one? Right now?'

‘I"d stake my life on it. This guy, he"s not just killing for kicks. He"s on a mission. And he won"t stop until he"s crossed every name off his list or we put him in the ground.'

Somewhere out there, another poor guy was about to take a permanent bath, and Ella was here, standing around her thumb up her ass, no closer to catching this sicko than they had been when the first body dropped.

‘So what do we do?' Luca asked.

A hundred possibilities ran through Ella's head. They knew what connected these victims, but connections didn't always lead to the common denominator. Especially when those common denominators were numerous.

‘If we can't find him, we try and protect who we can. We find out who worked on this dam, put them under watch, then pray that forensics find something useful on Ayers or Clancy.'

‘We better get going,' Luca said, ‘before this town turns into a mass grave.'

They weren"t just racing against the clock anymore. They were racing against a ticking time bomb with a waterproof fuse.

And time was running out faster than water in a cracked dam.

Ella's phone suddenly buzzed to life. Ella snatched it up and the name on the screen sent a jolt through her system stronger than any drug.

Rafe. Mia"s dog walker. The guy she"d tasked with being her eyes and ears back in D.C.

She jabbed the answer button so hard she nearly cracked the screen. ‘Talk to me, Rafe.'

His voice came through tinny and breathless, like he"d just run a marathon. ‘Ella? Sorry for the delay. It"s bad. Real bad.'

Ella"s gut clenched tighter than a miser"s fist. ‘Spit it out, Rafe. What"s going on? Have you found Mia?'

‘I"ve been to her place, waited around. Nothing. No sign of her. Her phone isn't on. Some of her stuff is gone. It"s like she"s fallen off the face of the earth.'

The world tilted sideways, going fuzzy at the edges. Ella"s free hand found the hood of the car, steadying herself as the ground seemed to lurch beneath her feet.

Mia. Well and truly missing.

The words bounced around her skull like pinballs in a machine gone haywire. This wasn"t happening. Couldn"t be happening. Mia was indestructible, a force of nature in black boots and a bad attitude. She didn"t just disappear.

Unless someone made her disappear.

‘Rafe,' she managed. ‘I need you to listen carefully. Call the local PD. Report her missing. Then call our office, tell them... tell them Agent Ripley is MIA and potentially in danger. Use those exact words, you got it?'

‘Y-yeah, of course. But what"s going on? Is Mia in some kind of trouble?'

‘Trouble doesn"t begin to cover it. Just call and report her missing, and be careful. The guy who might have her... he"s dangerous. Ex-military, ex-Fed. Don"t try to play hero, you hear me?'

She ended the call before he could respond, her mind already racing five steps ahead. Mia was missing. Mia was in danger. And here she was, stuck in the ass-end of nowhere, chasing a killer who liked to play splash park with his victims.

For a split second, Ella considered dropping everything. Hopping in the car and tearing ass back to D.C., come hell or high water. But the cop in her, the part that lived and breathed the job, knew she couldn"t. Not with a spree killer on the loose and bodies piling up like cordwood.

She was well and truly fucked. Caught between a rock and a hard place, with a psycho on one side and a potential dead best friend on the other.

Luca"s voice cut through the fog of panic. ‘Ell? What"s wrong? You look like you"ve seen a ghost.'

She turned to him, seeing the concern etched in the lines around his eyes. In that moment, she made a decision. Come hell or high water, she was going to catch this drowning-happy son of a bitch. And then she was going to tear the world apart brick by brick until she found Mia.

‘Nothing's wrong, Hawkins. Now, let's find this son of a bitch.'