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Ella had seen her share of FBI safe houses over the years. Most were the kind of places that made you wish you’d taken your chances with whoever was trying to kill you; the kind designed for convenience and not comfort.

But this one was straight out of a real estate porn magazine.

Six bedrooms’ worth of f-you money and a garden that probably spanned two zip codes.

As she peered through doors on her way through the hallway, Ella had also spotted an indoor pool that glowed turquoise even on this overcast Monday morning.

‘Cup,’ said the baby at Ella’s feet. The chubby-cheeked little boy used Ella’s legs to haul himself upright then offered Ella a plastic mug. According to Ripley, he was one year old, and he’d clearly already mastered the art of pretend dining. Ella was apparently his favorite new customer.

‘Mmm, delicious.’ Ella offered a sound of exaggerated satisfaction.

The baby’s cheeks dimpled when he smiled - pure Ripley genetics there.

It was strange seeing her partner’s features softened and remixed in this tiny human package.

Then he slapped her knee, which Ella took as a positive sign, and collapsed onto all fours.

Mia Ripley arrived in from the kitchen and planted a real cup in front of Ella. She took a seat on the other side of the room. ‘He doesn’t usually like strangers.’

‘Must be my maternal magnetism.’ Ella hadn’t spent much time around kids, but there was something irresistible about Max. Maybe it was the pure, unfiltered joy he found in the basics. Even pretend tea. ‘How’s this place working out for you?’

‘I’d rather a killer not have shown up to my son’s front door, but as far as safe houses go, this one’s pretty good.’

Ella thought back to the hair that had been left outside Ripley’s old house.

The same house she’d given to her son when she’d downsized recently.

The killer hadn’t known about the change in residence, which was fortunate because it meant they were working with outdated information, but it meant that Ripley’s family were the ones in danger instead of her.

‘Edis really went all out for you.’

‘The Attorney General uses this place when foreign dignitaries need protection,’ Ripley said as she tracked her grandson’s movements across the carpet. ‘There’s a play area outside. It’s got a climbing area in the shape of a pirate ship.’

‘That’s what everyone needs. Max must be happy.’

‘He’s got everything he could want here. He doesn’t seem to be missing his old house.’

‘Dare I say it, but this place is an upgrade even from your old fortress. Is this what you do every day?’

‘Yup. Used to be Max would come to my place, but we’re all just staying here for the time being. I’m on duty until twelve every day, then my son gets home.’

Since hanging up her badge and gun six months ago, Mia Ripley’s life had been less serial cases, more cereal boxes.

She seemed to have settled into the lifestyle quite well.

Max ambled over again and began taking a casual interest in Ella’s sneakers.

She raised her foot and gently rubbed Max’s face with her laces.

He laughed like it was the most sidesplitting incident of his short life.

‘Funny aren’t they. Babies,’ she said.

‘Yeah.’

‘I like their chubby thighs.’

‘You should get yourself a few.’

Ella clutched her leg. ‘Chubby thighs? I could use some of those.’

‘No. Kids.’

Ella teased Max again, wondering when she’d gotten so comfortable with this domestic scene. Children had always been variables in her life, but something about Max bypassed her detachment. ‘I don’t know. I’m either too young or too old, depending on who you ask.’

‘You’re what, 30?’

‘31.’

‘Young enough for anything you want. Kids help put the world in perspective.’

The truth was that Ella had indeed thought about it, but only in that abstract way you think about distant countries you might someday visit; a possibility filed away for some theoretical future that kept receding with each slice of human depravity you saw.

‘Sometimes I want them. What woman doesn’t? It’s hardwired.’

‘If you don’t have kids you end up as one of those middle-aged women who pushes dogs in a stroller.’

Ella winced. ‘That’s the one thing I don’t want to become.’

‘There’s your answer. Anyway, why are you really here?’

She picked up her tea. Ripley had applied her signature amount of milk – barely any. The steam alone burned her face. ‘I just wanted to use your pool.’

‘Did you bring a towel?’

‘No.’

‘So stop lying and tell me why you really came.’

Ella took a sip of her tea and scalded her tongue in the process. ‘Two reasons. Number one, I wanted to see how you were holding up after Ohio.’

‘Better than ever.’

‘Are you sure? It was your first case in months and you wrestled a killer off a sixty foot beam.’

Max had given up on Ella’s sneakers now and had crawled over to his grandma. Ripley plucked him off the floor and sat him on her knees. ‘Heights are only a problem if you fall off. How are you holding up?’

‘No worse than usual. Luca called me Friday night. He mentioned something.’

Ripley bounced Max on his knee but his expression turned to one of terror. He looked at Ripley and gave her a hearty, ‘No.’

‘Someone’s getting tired,’ Ripley said. ‘Might be time for a nap. What did Luca say?’

‘He reminded me that a few months ago, I’d lost two things at the same time. My cell phone and my hairbrush.’

‘‘Lost them both? At once?’ Ripley stopped bouncing Max, who was now rubbing his eyes with tiny fists.

‘Yeah. Luca and I tore through HQ looking for them, but there are only about three places in HQ I actually go. It wasn’t in any of them.’

‘ You forgot you lost something?’

‘Crazy, isn’t it? I’ve been using my work cell for so long I forgot I had a personal one. You don’t realize something’s gone if you never use it.’

‘I don’t mean to sound like Captain Obvious, but did you try your apartment?’

‘Of course I tried my apartment. My cell and hairbrush never leave my bag.’

‘Your personal cell, you said?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Well, it explains why you never texted me back a few weeks ago. You need to consult that perfect memory of yours. You’re quick enough to tell me about obscure murder cases from a hundred years ago but can’t recall where you might have dropped your phone?’

‘My memory isn’t Google. I can’t type in ‘lost phone’ and get a date and time. I have to lodge something in my long-term memory bank for it to stay forever.’ It was a misconception Ella had corrected countless times over the years. She remembered details and faces. Not timestamps.

‘Right, so someone swiped it from your bag? Is that what you’re saying?’

‘I’m not sure, but I can’t see it being anything else. But if this killer has my cell, it means they’ve got endless info on me. Texts, photos, search history, everything.’

‘You didn’t have a passcode?’

‘Of course, but any twelve-year-old with an internet connection can bypass that.’

‘True. Novel idea, but have you tried calling it? Or tracing it?’

‘Both. It’s turned off, but it doesn’t mean the killer can’t extract all the data from it. Just plug it into a computer, download the right software and boom. Instant access.’

Max let out a small whimper, clearly not impressed with the conversation happening around him.

Ripley pressed a finger to his nose. It worked for exactly three seconds, earning a hiccupping laugh before his face clouded over again. ‘It explains why the killer came to my old house. My address is probably in that phone somewhere. I definitely texted it to you a few times.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Okay, I’m going to put Max to bed for an hour, then we’re going to figure this out.’

The wall-mounted security panel emitted three soft tones. An alarm designed not to alarm. It meant there was a visitor at the front door.

‘Expecting company?’ Ella asked.

Ripley glanced at the clock. It was only eleven AM. ‘Nobody unscheduled gets through that gate without clearance codes. And nobody’s scheduled today.’

‘Might be one of the officers outside. I’ll go check. Stay here.’

‘The door code is 4759.’

She crossed to the door and kept to the side of the entrance in case someone decided to introduce themselves with bullets. Even in a safe house, Ella wasn’t about to take chances. The door had a fisheye lens set into it at eye level.

Ella pressed herself flat against the wall and peered through.

The fish-eye lens distorted the image, but there was no mistaking that face. Same receding hairline that had been creeping backward for as long as she’d known him. Same perpetually furrowed brow, like he was forever trying to solve an equation just beyond his grasp.

She removed the bolts, tapped in the code and opened the door.

‘Director Edis. What are you…?’

‘Miss Dark, I’m glad you’re here. Is Mia home?’

Ella held the door ajar, unsure what the protocol was here. She’d only seen Edis outside of his office once in her life. Something about it seemed wrong, like dropping a whale into the middle of the city. ‘Yes she is. Do you want to…. come in?’

‘Please. I need to speak with you and Mia. We’ve got a big problem.’