CHAPTER SIX

The car hummed down the highway, chewing up the miles to Dover. Ella sat in the back, nerves jangling like a pocket full of change. Luca was beside her, still the perfect G-man poster boy, even in the cramped space.

Ella wanted to hear his story, at least in more detail than he”d already shared, but she couldn”t risk it. She didn”t want to get too close, because everyone near her ended up in the ground or worse. She cut her eyes at Luca. He had his nose buried in the casefile, brow furrowed, pen tapping against his lip. The kid was desperate to prove himself. Desperate to show he had the chops. She couldn”t curse this promising rookie with the affliction of her association.

”How are you feeling about this?” Ella asked. ”Jumping into the deep end.”

Luca glanced up, startled. Like he”d forgotten she was there. ”Can”t put it into words. Feels odd. Surreal. Like, I”m not really here. Does that make sense?”

Ella nodded. ‘I know exactly what you mean. My first case with Ripley sent me to Louisiana, chasing a copycat that was mimicking Gein and Bundy and a bunch of other serial killers. I made a lot of mistakes.’

‘Sounds like a lot of responsibility,’ Luca said. He shifted in his seat, pen still tapping, nerves leaking out any way they could.

Ella remembered the Mimicker case like it was yesterday. She”d puked her guts out at every scene. But Ripley had been there. A steady hand on her back. A voice in her ear, telling her to breathe through it.

God, she missed that bitch already. Missed her like a severed limb.

‘What”s your take?’ Ella jerked her chin at the file. ‘What kind of sick puppy are we dealing with?’

Luca flipped to the crime scene photos. Studied them like they held the secrets of the universe. ‘Guy”s acting out a specific fantasy. Wants recognition for it. These scenes, they”re compensating for something. Righting a perceived wrong.’

Ella leaned back. Not bad for a rookie. She remembered Ripley grilling her the same way back in the day. Poking and prodding. Seeing what she was made of.

‘Perceived wrong,’ Ella echoed. ‘Elaborate.’

‘The stocks. The public displays.’ Luca waved a hand. ‘Unsub feels wronged. Humiliated. This is his way of getting even. Putting his vics through what he went through.’

Ella chewed on the comment. Luca was on the ball. Most serial killers were just overgrown kids throwing tantrums, raging at a world that didn”t give a damn.

‘Okay. Let”s play it out. What”s our boy”s damage? Try a profile.’

Luca blinked. Deer in the headlights. But he rallied quickly and flipped to a fresh page in his notebook. Before he began scribbling, he asked, ”Are you testing me?”

‘If you want.’

‘Alright, go easy,’ Luca said. ‘Unsub is mid-twenties to mid-thirties. Menial job. Minimum wage. Feels looked down on. Disrespected. Loner. Lives alone.’

‘Why?’

‘If he lived with someone else, they’d pick up on his mental issues. No one had a chance to see this guy’s spiral, and now we’re witnessing the limit of it. And he’s a white male, goes without saying.’

Ella looked over at his notes.

‘Why is he a white male?’

‘Both victims are white. Even if there’s no sexual component – which there isn’t – serial killers are still more likely to hunt within their own racial groups.’

‘True. What else?’

‘History of mental illness. Rejection sensitive. Lacks emotional coping skills.’ Luca was in the zone now. Words flowing fast and furious. ‘I”m seeing a triggering event. Something that pushed him over the edge. Made him feel less than.’

‘Like?’

‘Girlfriend dumped him. Got passed over for a promotion. Kicked out of his LARP group.’

Ella snorted. ‘That’s a new one.’

‘Basement-dweller. Can”t get laid, can”t get paid, can”t get no respect. How am I doing so far?’

Ella fought the urge to slap his shoulder and tell him he was going to make a fine profiler. ‘Not bad, rookie, but I wouldn’t rule out a sexual component yet. We don’t know if there are any signs of sexual assault, not to mention that these weird contraptions remind me of something.’

Luca shot her a raised eyebrow. ‘BDSM restraints?’

Ella shrugged. ‘Looks oddly familiar.’

‘Familiar, huh?’

‘Not like that.’ The car hit a pothole. Jounced them in their seats. Ella grabbed the oh-shit handle and felt the plastic bite into her palm. Luca chuckled and went back to his notes. ‘I mean, I saw it too. But these contraptions look like they’re made from wood and metal. I don’t want to sound like an expert in weird sex, but aren’t bondage restraints made from leather?’

Truthfully, Ella had no idea. This was usually when she and Ripley would start riffing. Building theories. Bouncing ideas like a deranged game of mental ping-pong.

Luca was good. Better than good. But he wasn”t Mia.

‘I’d have to double-check,’ Ella said. ‘Victim number one. What do we know about him?’

Her new partner skimmed back a few pages in his folder. ‘Archie Newman, twenty-six years old. Works as a bartender. Lives with his parents. No criminal record. Not a whole lot to go on.’

‘And victim number two?’

Luca flipped a page. ‘Georgia Bolton. Twenty-four. Waitress at a dive bar called The Rusty Nail. That’s pretty much all we’ve got.’

A waitress, perhaps with dreams of something better. Story old as time. Until some twisted freak decided to make her the star of his own private snuff film.

Ella drummed her fingers on her thigh. ”So we”ve got a bartender and a waitress. Both are in their mid-twenties. Both probably slinging drinks to the same crowd.”

‘Maybe they knew each other,’ Luca suggested.

‘Dover’s a decent size, but it’s possible. We need to check out their personal lives and see if anything overlaps.’

Luca scratched his pen against the paper. Ella watched him out of the corner of her eye. He was eager, endearingly eager. Like a puppy straining at the leash, ready to chase the first scent that crossed his path. She just hoped he had the stomach for it. Hunting monsters wasn”t for the faint of heart. You had to be willing to burn the worst of humanity into your retinas and somehow live with it for the rest of your life.

Luca glanced up, caught her looking. His brow furrowed. ‘Something on your mind?’

Ella shook her head. ‘Just thinking. This unsub, he”s bold. Dumping bodies in public like that. He wants to make a statement.’

‘And what”s that?’

‘That he”s in control. That he can do whatever he wants and no one can stop him.’ Ella”s lip curled. ‘But he”s wrong. We”re gonna stop him. We”re gonna nail his ass to the wall.’

Luca”s eyes gleamed. ‘Damn straight.’

The kid had fire. Ella had to give him that. But fire only got you so far in this line of work. You needed ice in your veins, too. The kind of cold, calculated detachment that let you look at a mangled corpse and see evidence instead of a person.

She wondered if Luca had that. Or if he”d burn out fast and bright, just another casualty of the job.

Only one way to find out.

Luca peered out the window, his nose wrinkling. ‘When we get there, where are we heading? The precinct?’

‘Afraid not,’ Ella said. ‘We’re going right into the heart of it.’

‘Where’s that?’

Ella tapped her case file. ‘These things only give you half of the story. When you see the crime scene, things suddenly look a lot different. We’re going to visit Georgia Bolton’s death site. With any luck, it should still be warm.’

Luca nodded, soaking it up like a sponge. Kid was a quick study. Ella just hoped he was ready for the crash course.

She eyed the bulge under his jacket. ‘You comfortable with that thing?’

Luca glanced down, patted his side. ‘My gun? Yeah, I think so. I mean, I passed my qualifications, but how often do you have to… you know….?’

‘Shoot someone?’ Ella finished for him. She barked a laugh, short and sharp.

‘Yeah.’

”In my whole time in the field, I”ve shot two people, which is more times than I”d like.”

‘Only two?’

‘Never point your gun at something unless you intend to kill it, and I’ve only intended to kill once. The other time was damage control.’

Her hand drifted to her pocket and brushed against the hard edge of her phone. She thought of Mia, probably drowning her sorrows in a bottle of Jack, cursing Ella”s name with every sip.

She should call her. Check in. Make sure she hadn”t done anything stupid. But what would she say? Sorry for accusing your boyfriend of being a serial killer. My bad.

No. Mia needed time. Space. And Ella had a job to do. She couldn”t let herself get distracted.

In the front of the car, the driver glanced in his central mirror and said, ‘Twenty minutes ‘til arrival.’

She straightened in her seat. Rolled her shoulders. Felt the familiar weight of her Glock nestled against her ribs.

Another day at the office awaited, another dance with the devil.

She just hoped they both made it out without too many scars. But she wasn”t betting on it, because in this business, the house always won in the end.

Ella was damned. She knew that. Had known it for a long time. But maybe, just maybe, she could keep Luca from sharing her fate.