CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Ella squinted against the glare of the sun as she pulled up to Georgia Bolton”s digs. The place was a postage stamp, more shed than house, with peeling paint and a sagging porch that looked one strong breeze away from collapse. But being so close to the city, the place probably demanded seven figures regardless.

She killed the engine and glanced over at Luca, who was fidgeting like a virgin at a strip club.

‘You ready for this?’

‘Barely,’ Luca said.

Ella grunted. ‘First time”s always the worst. Just remember, there”s no right way to tell someone their loved one”s not coming home. No magic words that”ll make it hurt less.’

‘A mercy killing.’

She popped the door and climbed out into the midday heat that slapped her like a scorned lover. Luca joined her and they trudged up the cracked concrete driveway, dodging weeds sprouting through the gaps. Ella”s gut churned like a washing machine on spin cycle. This part never got easier, no matter how many times she did it, but there was something about having Luca beside her that she felt might make it easier to digest. A spoonful of sugar.

‘Like you’re slaughtering a boar. You ever been hunting?’ Ella asked.

‘I grew up on a farm. Dig the knife in, yank it out, tell yourself the animal died quickly.’

‘Just like that.’

They reached the porch, floorboards groaning under their feet like arthritic joints. Ella raised her fist to knock, but before she could make contact, the door swung open. A woman stood there, bird bones and sharp angles, eyes red-rimmed and puffy. Same dirty blonde hair as her sister, same sharp cheekbones. But where Georgia had been all smiles in her photos, this gal looked like she”d been through the wringer and hung out to dry.

‘Marcy Bolton?’ Ella asked. A second later, she found herself staring at the woman’s palm.

‘Don’t say it,’ the woman said. ‘Don’t tell me she’s gone.’

Ella swallowed the lump in her throat, her tongue suddenly as dry as a desert bone. She”d rehearsed this moment a hundred times in her head on the drive over, practiced the words until they tasted like sandpaper. But now, face-to-face with Marcy”s raw, naked grief, every platitude felt like a slap in the face.

She cleared her throat, tried to inject some semblance of authority into her voice. ”Ms. Bolton, I”m Agent Dark, and this is Agent Hawkins. May we come in?”

‘Just say it. I need to hear it.’

‘We’re sorry, Marcy, but Georgia was found dead early this morning.’ Luca did the honors. Bless his heart.

Marcy made a sound, somewhere between a sob and a scream, her whole body folding in on itself like a house of cards. Ella fought the urge to reach out, to offer some scrap of comfort. But she knew from experience that there was no comfort to be had, not in the face of a loss like this.

She waited, letting the silence stretch, giving Marcy a moment to collect the shattered pieces of herself. The least she could do was let her purge the poison in a tidal wave of snot and salt water. When the woman finally looked up, her eyes were like two bruises in her pale skin.

‘How?’

Ella hesitated, weighing the truth against the need for tact. But one look at Marcy”s desperate gaze and she knew she couldn”t sugarcoat this. The woman deserved the truth, no matter how ugly.

‘She was found in Chautauqua Park,’ Ella said gently. ‘Murdered.’

‘I knew it,’ Marcy croaked. ‘That goddamn loudmouth, always running her yap, pissing off the wrong people. I told her. Told her to keep her head down, mind her own business. But she just…’ She broke off, choking on her own words. Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks, cutting tracks through the grime and mascara.

Ella shot Luca a sideways glance, eyebrows climbing towards her hairline. This wasn”t the reaction she”d been banking on. Most folks went through the stages like clockwork - denial, anger, bargaining, the whole shebang. But had skipped right to the bitter end, like she’d had the ‘I told you so’ locked and loaded for years.

‘Mind if we take this inside?’ Ella jerked her chin towards the gaping doorway. ‘With your help, we might be able to find who hurt your sister.’

Marcy sniffled, swiping at her nose with the back of her hand. ‘Yeah, sure. Come on in. Not like I got anything better to do now that my sister”s gone and gotten herself killed.’

She spun on her heel and stalked into the house, leaving Ella and Luca to trail after her like a couple of lost puppies. The place was a dump, a hoarder”s wet dream. Piles of junk teetered in every corner, threatening to avalanche at the slightest breeze. Marcy collapsed onto a threadbare armchair while Ella perched on the edge of the couch. Luca opted to stand.

‘Can you tell us about Georgia? Life, routine, friends. That kind of thing.’

Marcy shielded her face with her forearm while a few sobs leaked out. Any second now, the reality of losing her sister would set in, and her anger would turn to distress. Ella hoped it would, at least, because she”d never seen a bereaved family member jump right to victim-blaming before. Every day was a school day in law enforcement.

‘I need the details first. What happened to my sister?’

Ella leaned forward, elbows on her knees. She”d been dreading this part, the moment where she had to lay it all out in gory technicolor.

‘She was strangled, most likely last night. A passerby found her this morning.’

‘That’s it?’

‘Whoever killed her also staged her.’

Marcy looked at Ella like she was speaking a dead language. ‘Staged? What the fuck are you talking about?’

‘Posed,’ Luca interjected. ‘The perp placed Georgia in medieval stocks.’

Marcy’s glossy eyes took on new dimensions. ‘Stocks? The things that hold you in place?’

‘Yes,’ Luca said. ‘We’re sorry to be the ones to tell you this. If it’s any consolation-,’

‘Why?’ Marcy cut him off, then fresh tears began spilling. Ella”s heart gave a little lurch. There it is, she thought. The grief. The disbelief. Right on schedule.

She cleared her throat, tried to steer the conversation back on track. ‘That”s what we”re here to find out, Marcy. But we need your help to do it. We need to know everything you can tell us about your sister.

Marcy swiped at her eyes, smearing black streaks across her knuckles. ‘I don”t know how much help I can be. Georgia and I...we weren”t exactly close.’

Ella nodded, unsurprised. ‘Siblings can be like that. But you grew up together, lived together. You must have some insight into who she was, what made her tick.’

Marcy huffed out a breath. ‘Georgia was...Georgia. Stubborn as a mule and twice as mean. She never met a fight she didn”t pick, never met a bridge she didn”t burn.’

Luca shifted from foot to foot, clearly itching to jump in. But Ella shot him a warning look. Let her talk, that look said. Let it all come pouring out.

‘She was always mouthing off, always sticking her nose in where it didn”t belong. I lost count of how many times I had to bail her out of jail, or talk some pissed off boyfriend out of breaking down our door.’

Ella mentally cataloged it all. There was a little thrill there, because Georgia Bolton and Archie Newman seemed to be two sides of the same coin.

‘Boyfriends? Did Georgia date a lot?’ Ella asked.

Marcy snorted. ‘Date? No. More like nail and bail. Girl had a thing for bad boys, the kind with rap sheets longer than my arm. She”d shack up with ”em for a few weeks, then it was on to the next one.’

Ella took it in. It opened up a whole new avenue of investigation. Jilted lovers, jealous exes. It was like the scumbag lottery.

‘Any names you can remember? Anyone who might have had a particularly nasty breakup with her?’

Marcy chewed on her lower lip. ”There was this one guy a few months back. Ricky something or other. Real mean son of a bitch. He laid hands on Georgia more than once. Put her in the hospital, even.”

Ella”s head snapped up. ‘The hospital? You file a police report?’

Marcy just looked at her, a sad, knowing smile playing around her mouth. ‘What do you think? Georgia wouldn”t even admit he did it. Kept saying she fell down the stairs, walked into a door. The usual bullshit.’

The same old song and dance, Ella thought. ‘Alright, we’ll look into it. Anyone else spring to mind? A friend, maybe? Someone she talked to regularly?’

‘Friend? Ha. Georgia didn’t have friends. She had losers she partied with, got high with. People she wanted to impress.’

Luca stepped up. ‘We know she worked at the Rusty Nail bar. Was she career-driven at all?’

‘Career-driven? Georgia? Hell no. That girl couldn”t hold down a job to save her life. Always calling out, showing up late, half in the bag. She was a bartender, for Christ”s sake, not a lawyer.’

Ella felt a little twist in her gut. So much for the similarities between Georgia and Archie. Seemed like the only thing they had in common was their untimely end and a talent for pissing folks off.

‘But she had an active social life, right?’ Luca asked.

Marcy snorted, rolling her eyes so hard Ella thought they might pop right out of her skull. ‘Oh yeah, she was a regular social butterfly. If by social you mean getting blasted at every dive bar and comedy club in town.’

Ella thought it all through. The pieces of Georgia Bolton’s trainwreck of a life began falling into place like a jigsaw puzzle from hell. It sounded like she was a wild card, a loose cannon. The kind of gal who”d hitch a ride on the back of the devil”s Harley if he promised her a good time.

‘Anything else we should know about her?’ Ella asked. ‘Any skeletons in the closet, secrets she was keeping?’

Marcy just stared at her, eyes flat and empty as a snake”s. ‘Georgia didn”t have skeletons. She had a whole graveyard. But I couldn”t tell you what was buried there. Girl played her cards close to the chest, even with me.’

Ella nodded, unsurprised. Folks like Georgia, they built walls higher than the Berlin Wall. Kept everyone at arm”s length, never let anyone see past the rough-and-tumble exterior. Until it was too late.

‘Any idea where Georgia might”ve been last night? After her shift at the Rusty Nail?’

‘Your guess is as good as mine. Could”ve been anywhere. Alleyways, back seats of cars, shooting up under a bridge. Girl was a ghost when she wanted to be.’

Ella”s teeth sank into her lower lip. Truthfully, she’d expected a lot more from Georgia’s sister.

‘Did she ever mention an Archie?’ Luca asked. ‘An Archie Newman?’

Marcy”s brow furrowed, the lines etched deep as canyons. ”Archie? No, doesn”t ring any bells. Why? He has something to do with this?”

Luca shook his head, face carefully blank. ‘Just following up on a lead.’

Marcy”s face twisted like she”d just bit into a lemon. Her fist slammed into the ratty couch cushion, sending up a puff of dust. ‘I told her to stop running her mouth. To reel it in before someone did something to her. Now look. It’s all just…’ Marcy grabbed her hair with both hands and sank face-first into the cushions. The sobs came in a sudden wave.

Ella just sat there, letting the woman ride out the wave of grief and rage. She”d seen this song and dance a thousand times before. The anger, the regret, the woulda-coulda-shouldas. It was all part of the process, the messy, ugly business of picking up the pieces after someone got snuffed out.

But Luca seemingly couldn’t sit on his hands while this woman spiraled into despair. He crossed the room in two long strides and crouched down next to Marcy and lay a hand on her shoulder.

‘Hey, hey. Look at me, Marcy. This isn”t on you, alright? You didn”t do this. Some psycho out there did. And we”re gonna find him, make him pay for what he did to Georgia.’

Marcy raised her head. ‘You promise? You promise me you”ll get the bastard?’

‘We won”t stop until we”ve got him in cuffs or in the ground. You have my word on that.’

Ella had to hand it to the kid. He sure knew how to lay on the charm thick like honey. And damn if it didn”t work like a snake oil salesman”s miracle cure. Amazing what a pretty face could do for a grieving woman”s frazzled nerves.

But they couldn”t sit here all day, holding hands and making promises they might not be able to keep. They had a killer to catch, a case to crack wide open. And the longer they lingered, the colder the trail would get.

Ella pushed to her feet. ‘Alright, Marcy. I think we”ve taken up enough of your time. You got a number we can reach you at, in case we have any more questions?’

Marcy blinked like she was coming out of a trance. She rattled off a string of digits. Ella committed them to memory and gestured for Luca to come along.

‘We”ll be in touch. And remember, anything comes to mind, anything at all, you call us. Day or night. Got it?’

Marcy nodded. Luca gave her shoulder one last squeeze and made his way to the door. Ella paused on the threshold, one hand on the knob. She turned back to look at Marcy, huddled on the couch like a broken doll. ‘I”m sorry for your loss. Truly. And I promise you, we”ll get the son of a bitch who did this. One way or another.’

It was a vow she”d made a hundred times before, and as always, she meant it. Georgia Bolton might have been a loudmouth Karen, but everyone deserved justice. The victims were out there somewhere, crying out for justice from beyond the grave. And come hell or high water, Ella would get it for them. Even if she had to shake this whole rotten city down to its foundations to do it.

‘Well, that was a whole lot of nothing,’ Luca said once they were outside. ‘Where to now?’

‘You sure about that? We have a connection.’

Luca leaned against the car hood. ‘What? What connection?’

‘Archie and Georgia were both abrasive types, so we just need to find out who they pissed off.’