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Ella cracked an eye open. Motel room ceiling tiles stared back.

Surprisingly, she’d slept. Deeply, even. Never mind that her legs dangled off the end of the sofa, or that her neck felt like bent steel. Compared to the usual post-murder adrenaline crash that left her hollow-eyed, this qualified as restorative. Sofa sleep was never consequence-free.

The dead. Not the comparison she needed this morning, given what awaited her.

Across the room, Ripley remained a shapeless lump beneath the motel’s floral comforter.

Ella grabbed her clothes and skulked to the bathroom on silent feet.

She confronted her reflection in the mirror and found a few more gray hairs than the last time she performed this monthly ritual.

They were sprouting up faster than she could dye them these days.

Shower, moisturizer and a teeth-brushing later, Ella was all but ready to see what the day offered. When she emerged from the bathroom, Ripley had evolved from lump to semi-conscious human. She sat upright with her back against the headboard and her eyes half-closed.

‘Jesus, I didn’t oversleep, did I?’

‘Depends how quickly you can get ready.’

‘Like lightning. Did you sleep okay?’ Ripley asked.

‘Yes I did, oddly. Did you?’

Ripley flung her legs out of the bed. Her black t-shirt said Rio Hotel, Las Vegas. ‘Yeah. Must be all that salt in the air. It helps the respiratory system, and apparently reduces signs of aging.’

‘I could use some of that. When did you go to Las Vegas?’

‘Back in summer. My daughter-in-law dragged me there.’

‘Any good?’

‘Saw David Copperfield. He vanished a woman and made her appear in Hawaii.’

‘How’d he do that?’

‘Magic. Wish I could do that.’

Ella grabbed her things. ‘Speaking of people you’d like to make disappear, I’ll go summon Sarah Webb to the precinct. We need her.’

‘Ugh.’

‘Come on, Mia. Be nice to her.’

‘Why? Because she writes books about dead people?’

‘No, because she’s our mole in the White Whale Club, two members of which are dead.’

‘I can’t be friends with anyone who profits off cold cases. I bet she’s got a criminal profiling degree from Armchair University.’

‘Do you know how much true crime authors make? No one gets into that game for the money.’

‘No, they get into it for the attention.’ Ripley stood up and stretched. ‘But fine. I’ll try not to hit her.’

‘That’s the spirit.’ Ella quickly concluded there was no point trying to convince her partner of Sarah’s well-meaning nature. Even early-morning Ripley was as stubborn as concrete. ‘I’ll meet you downstairs when you’ve done your business.’

‘Roger. Give me ten.’

Ella stepped into the hallway and closed the door on Ripley’s morning cynicism. A housekeeping cart stood abandoned halfway down the hall, loaded with miniature shampoos and threadbare towels. She scrolled through her contacts until she found the number Sarah had given her last night.

The phone rang three times before a surprisingly alert voice answered.

‘Morning, Agent Dark.’

‘Sarah, sorry for bothering you so early.’

‘One of your colleagues came by last night and told me about Diana. I don’t think I’ve slept a wink.’

‘Yes indeed. Absolutely awful.’ Ella said.

‘Thanks for arranging someone to keep an eye on my place. Sheriff Bauer didn’t have any guys free, so he did it himself.’

‘Admirable. I assume he took care of you?’

‘Yes he did. We’re on first-name terms now.’

‘Excellent. Well get him to bring you to the precinct as soon as possible. We need to talk about the other members of your group.’

‘I figured as much.’ Papers rustled in the background. ‘I’ve been working all night. I’ve got everything you could want. Gone through all of our old messages and emails. Managed to find full names, meeting dates, topics discussed. The closest thing you’ll get to a history of the White Whale Club.’

Ella’s pulse quickened. ‘You’ve been gathering intel all night?’

‘Of course. Two of my friends are dead. I want this killer caught as badly as you do.’