Page 77 of Girl, Bound

'Always,' Ella said.She sauntered through the hallway towards the living room, but even before sheentered, she sensed the presence of another body within.

Inside, she spottedRipley’s new flame, sprawled out on the couch like a well-fed tomcat. OldMartin himself, looking straight off the cover of Silver Fox Monthly. Heflashed a smile bright enough to blind as he caught sight of her, tossing ajaunty wave.

But Ella barelyregistered the pearly whites or the casual greeting. Because suddenly,violently, the scattered pieces of the puzzle crashed together in her head likea ten car pileup.

The CCTV footage ofRandall Carter's last moments. That shadowy figure executing him with clinicalprecision. The faceless phantom who'd gone a few rounds with Ben, leaving himbroken on his apartment floor.

The build.

The fluid grace.

The economy of motion.

Ella's mind whirredlike an overclocked processor. The murders, the assaults, the whole bloodymess. It had all started when Martin had sashayed into Mia's life. Andsuddenly, every shared confidence, every pillow talk disclosure took on a wholenew sinister cast.

Mia might play hercards close to the chest, but Ella had spilled her guts over more than onegirls' night out. About Logan Nash, the hit man who'd murdered her father.

And Ben. The way she'dpoured her heart out to Ripley when their relationship had imploded. Ella hadpassed on every sordid detail, every raw and bleeding emotion. All while oldMartin had been playing devoted lap dog. Sitting at Mia's feet, those sharp earspricked for any scrap of gossip.

And Trevor. Mia hadeven admitted to gabbing about her slimeball ex to her shiny new boy toy. Alittle bonding over their troubled pasts, a sprinkle of trauma to spice up thepillow talk.

Not to mention thatElla and Ripley had once discussed Carter over dinner, meanwhile Martin hadheard every word.

Ella's head spun, theedges of her vision going red.

It was him.

The shadow in thedark, the self-appointed Angel of Death dealing out his twisted idea ofjustice.

Martin maintained hissmile, that aw-shucks grin still pasted on his perfectly weathered face. ButElla saw beyond the mask. Saw the emptiness, the bottomless hunger lurking inthose blue eyes.

The world fell away,everything narrowing down to the man in front of her. The monster wrapped in atweed jacket and artfully mussed hair.

Ella tried to keep herlips pursed, tried to keep her thoughts to herself before she spilled them outinto the world.

Her memory wasfoolproof. If she saw or heard something once, that information lodged itselfin her memory bank for the rest of time.

And she’d seen Martinflee Ben’s apartment after knocking him out cold.

They locked eyes, andin that moment, the two shared a psychic conversation.

Ella regarded him,daring him to deny it. To crack a joke, spin some good ol' boy crap to throwher off the scent.

But Martin's facenever flickered. His smile stayed fixed.

And in that moment,Ella knew.

Knew it deep in herbones, with a certainty that stole the breath from her lungs.

Suddenly, Ripley’svoice broke the tension.

‘Dark, sugar orsweetener?’

Ella wrenched her gazeaway from Martin, pulse-pounding. 'Damn, Mia, I just remembered. I got a thingto do. Somewhere to be. I should have checked the calendar. Sorry.'

Ripley peered her headaround the door. ‘You just got here.’

‘Yeah, I forgot. Oldage and all that.’ Ella stumbled back, groping for the door. ‘You two enjoyyour morning. I… gotta run.’

Her partner shrugged.‘Alright. Take care.’

Ella rushed out of thedoor, back onto the driveway.

Her mind was adisjointed kaleidoscope. A loop of greatest hits splattered across the insideof her skull. Randall gurgling his last in a spray of brain matter. Ben's bloodslick under her hands as she tried to staunch the flow. The pleading, accusingeyes of every victim staring up at her from the cold metal of an autopsy slab.

Rage rose up hergullet like bile, choking hot and sick in the back of her throat. A howl offury ripped free as she lunged for the Civic, flinging herself behind thewheel.

But now, Ella knewwith a certainty that she couldn’t put into words.

Martin was the angelof death.