Page 38 of Girl, Unmasked (Ella Dark #28)

Ella stood in the eye of the storm. The machinery of justice was in full swing outside Bookshop Obscura. Uniformed officers, crime scene technicians, and a whole wad of spectators hanging just outside the door. If nothing else, this meant that Roger Blackwood wasn’t their killer.

But beneath the buzz of activity, a grim pall had settled.

She stared at William Kane's lifeless form – or what was left of it, anyway – and felt the familiar burn of failure gnawing at her guts.

The Angel Maker had struck again, and she'd been a dollar short and a day late to stop him.

Sure, she'd been on the right track. She'd sussed out his twisted script, followed the breadcrumbs right to William Kane's doorstep.

But what good did that do the poor guy now, with his insides on the outside and a set of bootleg angel wings painted in his own blood?

Ripley sidled up beside her. ‘Hell of a thing, isn’t it?'

‘Starting to think it’s too much of a thing for me.’

‘The hell's that supposed to mean?’

Between this slice of crazy and the Austin Creed situation, Ella was beginning to wonder why she still did this. Was it the money? The pension? She could live without both if it meant saving her sanity.

‘I don’t know, Mia. I feel like I’m losing it.’

‘Losing what?’

‘It. You found the dark web link. Ryland found a picture of our unsub. What did I do? Got here too damn late. Got three of my friends killed.’

‘Well, that's the stupidest thing I've heard all day. And earlier I heard Blythe try to explain the difference between a latte and a cappuccino.’

Despite herself, Ella felt her lip twitch. She wasn’t sure if Ripley was being serious or trying to make her laugh. She preferred to keep it that way.

She continued, 'Seriously, though, the blood in Kane's hair has barely dried. That means you were, what, five minutes too late?'

‘One second is too late.’

'You get into the mind of psychos. It's what you do. If you can't figure this asshole out, no one can.'

Ella wanted to believe her. Wanted to buy into that unshakable faith, wrap herself in it like a bulletproof vest. But the proof was in the pudding – or in this case, the cooling corpse at her feet.

'Tell that to Sophie, Martina, or Kane here. My profiling skills did jack to save them.'

‘Well, I hate to pile on, but I got some more bad news. The coroner didn’t find any manuscript pages down Martina’s throat, so no chance of fingerprints. And that image recognition search I did on LaChance? Came up empty.’

Ella wrapped a hand around her forehead. If she still had the capacity to cry, she would.

‘Perfect. The cherry on top.’

'Jesus, Dark, would you listen to yourself?' Mia's stoicism morphed into frustration. 'What, you think you're the hero that can save everyone?'

‘No, I didn’t mean…’

'You know how arrogant that is? It's not up to you to save these people.

' Ripley gestured towards Kane's limp figure.

'It's up to these assholes to not go around slicing people up and drawing wings with their blood.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but I was telling you this back when you were a rookie. Have you learned nothing?'

Ripley with the pep talk. Just like old times.

And like always, she was right.

‘Alright. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.’

Ripley spun around and grabbed her by the shoulders. ‘Dark, you're in this psycho's head. You're thinking like him, predicting his moves. That's not nothing. Trust those instincts. WWPD. What Would Psycho Do?’

'I appreciate it, Mia, but we're nearly out of victims, remember? Sophie, Martina, Kane. That's three down, and no idea who's up next in this freak's hit parade. The final kill was missing from the manuscript, and it's not on the web.'

But even as the words left her mouth, the gears started turning. Slowly at first, then faster, rust flaking away as long-dormant synapses fired.

She thought of the manuscript. The missing pages. The careful staging, the loving attention to detail. This wasn't some amateur hour slash-and-dash. The Angel Maker was an artist, in the most grotesque sense of the word.

‘Then get creative,’ said Ripley. ‘Someone dented this guy’s ego, maybe last year, maybe last week. Figure out the final vic and we might just cut him off at the pass.’

Ella drew herself up, shoulders set and heart blackened with purpose. A new surge of determination coursed through her veins. One more life. She could save one more life if she just focused, if she pushed everything else aside and zeroed in on the killer's backwards logic.

‘I’ll head back to the precinct.’

‘That’s the Dark I know. I’ll stay here and see if anything crops up.’

She turned on her heel, ready to march right out of that abattoir and back to the barn. But she paused at the threshold. Looked back over her shoulder at Mia. ‘By the way, it’s the milk ratio.’

‘Come again?’

‘Never mind.’

And Ella was headed back to her office, to dig deep – and maybe find some gold in this garbage pile.