Page 4 of Girl, Empty (Ella Dark #27)

Ella found Mia Ripley in her backyard, wearing what appeared to be a full beekeeper's suit despite the presence of any beehives. The January air was crisp enough to see her breath, but Ripley seemed unbothered by the cold as she wielded what looked to Ella like a flamethrower.

‘Is that what I think it is?’ Ella asked from the porch.

‘Yes. This is a flamethrower. Well, an industrial weed torch.’

‘Why?’

‘Wasps. Got a nest out here.’

‘And you’re going to smoke them out?’

‘Burn them out. The guy at Home Depot said this was overkill, though.’

‘It is overkill.’

‘That’s why I brought it,’ Ripley said. ‘Stand back. This thing will take your eyebrows off.’

Ella retreated to the safety of Ripley’s sunroom.

This was her new house, the one she’d downsized to since handing over her old fortress to her son.

However, Ripley’s son and her family were still holed up in a safe house, because Ella’s murderous stalker had made threats against the owners of said fortress.

Ella assumed that the killer believed Ripley still lived there, but she evacuated her family just to be safe.

‘Ready?’ Ripley called.

‘What’s your technique here?’

‘No such thing. Just watch out, because there’s about to be 200 pissed off wasps flying about any second now.’

Ripley pulled the trigger, and a massive jet of orange flame erupted from the torch with a roar that made Ella glad she was behind glass.

Ripley stood silhouetted against the flames like something out of Mad Max.

The nest disintegrated under the assault, and true to Ripley's warning, wasps began pouring out in an angry cloud.

A few surviving wasps emerged in confused spirals before the cold air claimed them.

Ripley waited a moment, watching for any stragglers, then pulled off her beekeeping hood to reveal hair that had abandoned all pretense of its usually perfect bun. ‘What’d you think of that?’

‘Nature is a cruel mistress. And so are you.’

Ripley escaped into the house and shut the door before any living wasps could claim vengeance. 'Wasps have no place here. They're the serial killers of the insect world.’

‘Do you feel better now?’

'Yeah.' Ripley put down her flamethrower, unzipped her beekeeper outfit, and became a normal person again. 'Scorched earth. Do you want a drink?'

‘Got any Coke?’

‘Coke? It’s a winter morning.’

‘I know, but my throat has been dry as a bone since Christmas. Coke is the only thing that helps.’

‘Weird.’ Ripley moved to the kitchen and returned with a can of Diet Coke. ‘Will this do? How was Christmas? This was your first one with Hawkins, right?’

‘Yeah. First one. We didn’t do much. Just stayed in, watched films, had Chinese food. I guess that’s the American dream.’

Ripley moved into the living room and took a seat. Ella followed suit. 'Yeah, it is. There's nothing more American than Chinese food. I had Christmas dinner in a safe house, which was quite the experience.'

‘Was it?’

‘Sort of. It was actually quite nice.’

‘How’s your family holding up in there?’

‘They love it. It’s like a holiday home, and little Max doesn’t care about the cold, he just spends all day in the garden. Do you have that training thing today?’

‘Yeah, midday,’ Ella said. ‘You?’

‘I’m supposed to, but maybe I burned myself on my weed torch. Can’t type with burned fingers, can you?’

Around nine months ago, Mia Ripley had retired after 30 years of service to the FBI.

She’d spent six months gardening and looking after grandson, and then out of some masochistic urge, had returned to the fold.

Ella still didn’t understand why, because Ripley had spent the better part of their time together talking about how she was ready to leave the job behind for good, but law enforcement attracted a certain type of person, and that type didn’t like to sit around doing nothing.

‘Don’t try and worm your way out of it. I could work from here, if you want,’ Ella said. ‘My laptop’s in the car.’

‘What’s this? Trying to get out of the house?’

‘A little bit.’

‘Cabin fever gets to you after a while. How are things going with the other case?’

Ella sighed. ‘They won’t let me on it. Do you know anything?’

‘Nothing. I haven’t spoken to anyone at HQ since our case in Florida. Why won’t they let you in on it?’

‘Too hot. Too close. The investigators agree that this has something to do with Austin Creed, but they’ve made it clear I need to stay a million miles away.’

Ripley checked her cell and then put it on the arm of the sofa. ‘They’re right. You're the worst possible person to investigate this objectively.’

‘I know, but it doesn’t make it easier. Three of my friends are dead, and they wouldn’t be dead if they hadn’t known me. And I’m supposed to… what? Sit at home with my thumb up my ass while someone else figures out who’s doing this?’

Ripley regarded her for a long moment, like the answer was obvious. ‘Yes. That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do, because the alternative is you going rogue, compromising the investigation and getting either yourself or someone else killed.’

Ella hated it when Ripley had a good point, because Ripley was the biggest hypocrite she knew. Ripley was exactly the kind of woman who’d take things into her own hands. ‘Fine.’

‘There’s no other way to put it. I get that you’re feeling helpless, but you have to trust the team. At least officially.’

Ella’s eyebrows jumped into her hairline. ‘Officially?’

‘I’m just saying. I’m still technically retired, remember? I’m just a consultant now, so I’ve got a little more… flexibility than you.’

There was the hypocrisy again. The hypocrisy that Ella never took for granted. ‘I see. You’d do that?’

‘I’m not doing anything. Information just flows in mysterious ways, and sometimes old agents who burn down wasps nests hear things. Completely unrelated things that they might mention in casual conversation.’

‘I appreciate these completely unrelated things you might mention.’

‘Good, now do you want to get your laptop or what? If we both skip this training the same day, someone’s going to notice and I can’t-’

Just then, Ripley’s cell began to chirp. She eyeballed the screen with a look of dread.

‘Who is it?’

‘Edis.’

‘Oh, Christ. You better get it.’

Ripley jabbed the screen and turned it to loudspeaker. ‘Morning, Will.’

‘Mia, sorry for disrupting you so early.’ Edis’s tinny voice came through. ‘Are you busy today?’

‘Me and Dark have some training thing soon. She’s here with me.’

Ella hadn’t heard Edis’s voice for weeks, and she hadn’t missed it, because it usually accompanied a request to some crime scene on the other side of the country.

‘Forget the training. Can you both get to headquarters within the hour?’

Ella and Ripley exchanged a look. Edis telling them to miss training? This didn’t happen, not in the world that Ella knew.

‘Is everything okay, sir?’ Ella leaned forward. ‘Do you need us on a case?’

‘No. Well, yes, but there’s something else. Something more important.’

The director’s voice had been stripped of its authority. Ella was hearing the human beneath the suit, possibly for the first time in her life. Judging by Ripley’s expression, she was equally as perplexed by this rare display.

‘What’s going on, Will?’ asked Ripley. ‘You sound weird.’

‘Please get here as soon as you can. I have a gift for both of you.’

The agents shared another look. This wasn’t the William Edis that Ella knew.

‘A gift?’

‘Yes,’ Edis said. ‘I just wanted to say goodbye properly.’