CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

Ella stood on the threshold of Riley Sawyer"s living room, trying not to breathe too deeply. The place was a time capsule, a snapshot of a bygone era preserved in amber and cat hair. Doilies on every surface, chintz curtains gone yellow with age, and the funk of Ben-Gay and Metamucil thick as a winter coat.

But she didn"t have time to dwell on the decor, or the way the floral upholstery seemed to reach for her like grabby hands. Not with a killer on the loose and the clock ticking down to the next splash party.

‘Coffee, dears?' Riley chirped. Apparently, small-town hospitality even extended to law enforcement showing up at nearly midnight.

‘We'd love some,' Ella lied. The minutes were counting down, but she'd choke down coffee if it got her the answers she needed. Every second they delayed, their unsub was that much closer to tying up the next John Q. Public for a long walk off a short pier.

Luca shot her a look, one eyebrow raised. She could practically hear him thinking it: Is this really the time for a tea party? But he held his tongue, ever the good soldier. She just hoped he was ready to move when the time came.

Riley tottered into the room, a tray of mismatched mugs clutched in her gnarled hands. She set them down on the coffee table with a clatter, amber liquid slopping over the rims.

Mighty kind of you, Riley. This is just what we needed. But I"m afraid we don"t have long. Clock"s ticking, and we could really use your help.'

‘Of course, dear.' Riley eased back into a recliner that wheezed like a two-pack-a-day smoker. Guileless as a lamb in a world full of wolves. ‘Anything for our boys in blue. Or lady, as it were.'

Ella leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. She aimed for gentle urgency, projecting earnest need like a lighthouse beam. ‘That water clock of yours, the one in the town square? It"s a real marvel. A work of art. Must"ve been a hell of an undertaking.'

‘Oh yes. My pièce de résistance, that old thing.'

‘You built that thing all on your own?' Ella pressed. Whoever their unsub was, he knew how to build a water clock. Riley might not be their killer, but maybe there was another clock-builder in town.

Riley"s eyes twinkled with sly mirth. ‘Ha. Built it? I didn't build anything.'

Ella and Luca exchanged a look. ‘You didn't?'

‘No, no. I can barely put shelves up. I just designed her, planned out every cog and wheel, but the actual building, well...'

‘You had some help,' Luca supplied, smooth as Kentucky bourbon over ice. He flashed those pearly whites, a gleam to make the silver screen stars of old green with envy. ‘No shame in that. A visionary needs a good pair of hands to bring their dreams to life.'

The old woman preened like a bluebird in spring. ‘Aren"t you a charmer? But yes, I couldn"t have done it without my contractor. A real artist, that one. Mind like a steel trap and hands that could shape stone like it was clay.'

Ella"s pulse kicked into overdrive. This was it, the thread they"d been scrabbling for. She shot Luca a loaded glance and saw her own heightened focus reflected back. They were locked on now, two dogs on a scent.

‘He sounds like a real find,' Ella said, keeping her tone light even as her gut churned with dread. ‘We"d love to pick his brain, if you have a name. Just for our records, you understand. Gotta dot those bureaucratic i"s and cross the t"s.'

‘Of course, of course. Red tape, I get it.' Riley braced her hands on the arms of the chair, levered herself up with a grunt. ‘Hang on a minute, I"ve got the original blueprints around here somewhere...'

As the old woman shuffled over to a side table crammed with papers and tchotchkes, Ella"s foot resumed its manic tap dance. They were so close, the answer almost close enough to taste. If she could just get that name, that crucial missing piece.

‘Aha!' Riley straightened up with a triumphant grin and a roll of yellowed papers clutched in one knobby fist. ‘Knew these old things were squirreled away here, just needed a bit of digging.'

She tottered back, plopped the bundle down on the coffee table between them. She slid off the ancient rubber band, gingerly unfurling the pages like a sacred scroll.

Ella and Luca bent over the blueprints. To Ella"s untrained eye, it looked like a foreign language, all swooping lines and arcane symbols. But it was clearly the work of a master, each angle and join planned out with loving exactitude.

And there, in the bottom corner, a looping scrawl that hit her like a nail gun to the eyeballs.

Contracted Builder: Seth Baxter.

Distantly, she heard Luca saying something, keeping up the casual patter, but the words washed over her unheeded. Her mind was already spinning out, latching onto this new name. Seth Baxter. Was this their man?

‘Seth Baxter,' she said, fighting to keep her voice level. ‘He a local fellow?'

Riley nodded, all benevolent Grandma doling out wisdom. ‘Oh sure, the Baxters were around here for generations. Salt of the earth types, you know. Good, churchgoing folk. Seth's sister was one of my best pals. Seth, though, he"s always been a bit different. Quieter. More intense-like.'

Something in her voice, a catch hidden beneath the gossipy flow. Ella pounced on it like a cat on a waning mouse. ‘Sounds like you know him pretty well.'

‘Oh, well enough, I suppose. Our families go way back. I"ve known Seth since he was knee-high to a grasshopper.' Her watery blue eyes took on a faraway cast, peering back into a history Ella could only guess at. ‘He"s had a rough go of it, poor boy. Especially this last year or so.'

‘How so?'

Riley sighed, a sound like October wind through bare branches. She suddenly looked every minute of her considerable age. ‘It"s just been one thing after another, you know? First the drought, crops withering in the fields, the land turning to dust. Then that damned fool dam going up, siphoning off what little water we had left. Half the town up and left, no way to make a living anymore.'

The trickle turned to a stream. The gears turned. Pieces clicking into something resembling a picture.

‘And Seth, he what? Lost his livelihood? Got squeezed out with the rest of the little guys?'

‘If only it were that simple.' Riley took off her glasses and polished them on her cardigan. ‘No, Seth, he had roots here. Stayed put when others ran. He had his sister to think about, you see. Jessie. Bright little thing, a real green thumb. She"d taken over the family farm, poured her heart and soul into that place.'

Ella didn"t need to be psychic to see where this was going. That cold stream was a river now, dread pooling in her gut. Beside her, Luca went preternaturally still.

‘What happened to her?' Luca asked softly. ‘Jessie?'

Riley"s chin wobbled, and tears sprung to rheumy eyes. ‘Oh, it was awful. Just awful. She fought so hard, you see. Tried everything to keep that farm running. Even with the drought, the dust, the whole town turning into a tinderbox. But it wasn"t enough. It was never going to be enough.'

Riley swiped at tears that hadn't yet come but no doubt would in a few seconds. ‘When the bank foreclosed, I thought that would be the end of it. Heartbreak, sure, but they"d bounce back. They always did, those two. Thick as thieves, they were. But Jessie, she... she couldn"t see a way through. Couldn"t face another day in this godforsaken dustbowl.'

‘What did she do?' Ella's mouth was as dry as the cracked earth outside.

The old woman suddenly crumpled. ‘Poor Jessie, she walked straight into Gullywash Creek with stones in her pockets. Seth found her, you know. Just floating there, like an angel fallen to earth. Hasn"t been right since. Not that anyone could blame him.'

The bottom dropped out of Ella"s stomach. Suicide. The great motivator, the final push over the brink into madness. How many times had she seen it, the corrosive grief eating away at the mind like acid? She"d stood over the bodies, pieced together the shattered lives left behind. It never got easier. And now Seth Baxter, unmoored by loss, set adrift in a world turned to salt and ash.

‘When?' she croaked. It felt like her throat was stuffed with wet cement. ‘When did this happen?'

Riley shook her head. ‘Eight, nine months back? Maybe more. Time, it loses meaning when you get to my age. But I remember the service. Closed casket. And Seth, just standing there, still as a stone angel. Not a tear on him, but those eyes... Lordy, I"ll never forget those eyes.'

Eight months. The words tolled in Ella"s head like a funeral bell. Eight months for the grief to curdle, for the helplessness to alchemize into rage. Eight months to plan, to build, to set the gears of vengeance whirring.

More than enough time for a broken man to break the world in turn.

Now, Ella knew without a shadow of a doubt that Seth Baxter was responsible for these murders.

She needed to act – and fast.

‘Riley, I need you to listen very carefully now. This isn"t idle curiosity or some procedural fishing expedition. Seth Baxter... I believe he"s involved in something awful. Something that"s already cost lives and is poised to take more if I don"t stop him.'

The old woman gaped at her. ‘What? No, that"s not... Seth wouldn"t... Are you accusing him of being some kind of, of criminal?'

‘Killer,' Ella corrected grimly. She hated it, hated dumping this on a civilian, but time was running out. They needed to move now, or another body would be bobbing to the surface before dawn. ‘At least three dead, all tied to that damn dam. And I think he"s got a fourth in the works, probably as we speak.'

‘That"s impossible.' The denial rang hollow even to Riley"s ears. Her hands twisted together. ‘Seth"s a good boy. A giver. He"s never so much as jaywalked.'

There was no time to go back to the precinct and get this man's address. Tucker and his men were all keeping guard of people who worked on the dam. If Ella wanted to find Seth Baxter before he claimed another victim, she needed Riley to spill the facts.

‘Grief changes people. Loss twists them up inside, breaks something vital.' Ella gentled her voice, fighting to find a balance between compassion and steel. ‘I"ve seen it too many times, good folks driven to unthinkable acts. Their pain eats away at them until there"s nothing left but the hunger to make someone else hurt like they do. Seth"s hurting. He"s drowning in it, has been ever since he pulled his sister out of that creek. And now he"s lashing out, trying to externalize that pain the only way he knows how. With his hands, his know-how, his gift for building.'

‘And the clock,' Luca murmured. ‘Seth Baxter is using it as a weapon.'

‘What?' Riley asked. ‘How is that possible?'

‘He's built a bigger one. A people-sized one. He"s using it to punish those he sees as responsible. The politicians, the fatcats, anyone who had a hand in damming the river and draining this place dry.'

Riley looked like she was going to be sick, one liver-spotted hand pressed to her mouth. ‘Sweet Lord. You really think...?'

‘I"m sorry, truly.' Ella reached out, covering those trembling fingers with her own. The skin was as delicate as a bird"s wing. ‘I know this is a hell of a thing to take in. Seth"s your friend, your family almost. It"s gut-wrenching to think he"s capable of this. But he"s not well. His mind"s broken, stuck in a loop of vengeance and despair. And if we don"t get to him soon…"

Ella held that anguished gaze, willing the old woman to understand. They needed her, needed that fragile human connection. Without it, they"d be scrabbling in the dark while the clock ran down.

Riley blinked at her, coming back from a thousand miles away. ‘Seth used to live on Herald Street. A couple of miles away.'

There it was. The answer she needed. Ella could have kissed the old woman.

‘House number?'

‘No such thing. It's the only house on the street.'

Luca sprang to life. He dropped his card on the table. ‘You might have just helped us save a life,' he said.

Ella rounded on Riley, fixing the old woman with a stare that could cut glass. ‘Stay here. Lock the doors, draw the curtains. Don"t open up for anyone, you hear?' She was moving towards the front door, tossing the orders over her shoulder. ‘And Riley? If you"ve got a weapon – a gun, a taser, a freaking garlic press – keep it close. If Seth suspects we"re onto him...'

She didn"t finish. She didn"t have to.

‘Good luck,' Riley called. ‘Give Seth a kick from me.'

They were back outside a second later. Ella checked the time. Ten past eleven.

‘Fifty minutes, Hawkins,' she said. ‘We can do this.'

‘Let's go. You're driving. We'll get my car later.'

‘All guns blazing. No prisoners. Get in, you find the victim, I'll take the killer, got it?'

‘Got it.'

And they shot off in a spit of gravel, ready to end the longest night of Ella's life.