Page 20 of Girl, Remembered

Ripley rushed back to the table just in time for Ella to hear her say her goodbyes to whoever was on the other end. She hung up and said, ‘Dark, we’ve got a problem.’

Ella wasn’t ready for another problem, and she knew, without uncertainty, that this problem involved Lindsey Doyle. ‘What kind of problem?’

‘Doyle has more disciples out there. At least three of them. And they’ve all killed this morning.’

CHAPTER ELEVEN

‘Three homicides? In one morning? Dever asked. ‘But that’s not possible.’

‘I assure you, it is,’ Ripley said.

The team, which Ella’s subconscious was now referring to as the Big Four – her, Ripley, Vernon and Dever – had gathered in Vernon’s office. They’d had to unceremoniously remove two representatives of the Attorney General’s office before delivering the news, who were now waiting, probably impatiently, in the corridor outside. However, three murders in one morning wasn’t news that could wait, especially when it most likely involved the woman whose face was currently on every news site in the world.

Vernon, who had managed to stay calm in the face of this news, was sat behind his desk. He said, ‘Ripley, what do we know, exactly?’

‘Chief Hibbert from the MPD just called me and said what I just told you. His men have been called to three homicides in the past few hours. A young woman was stabbed to death at the Transit Center in Silver Spring. A man was shot outside a bar in Wheaton. Another man was garrotted in a Laundromat in Langley Park. All of them happened between the hours of two and three this morning. MPD were on each scene a few hours later, but it wasn’t until Hibbert arrived that he put the pieces together.’

‘Those scenes are miles apart,’ Dever said. ‘Who’s to say they’re not isolated incidents?’

‘I’m to say they’re not isolated incidents. Look.’ Ripley pulled out her phone and showed Dever and Vernon some pictures that Hibbert had sent across. Ella had examined them on the way up to the top floor, and she was happy to confirm that they were the real article.

Dever turned his nose up at the picture. ‘Hair?’

‘Not just any hair.’ Ripley signalled in Ella’s direction. ‘Her hair.’

Dever checked the photo again before Ripley pulled her phone away. He then glanced at Ella’s locks, clearly trying to conflate the two. He asked, ‘Miss Dark. Would you say that’s your hair on those photos?’

‘If it’s not, it’s pretty damn close. But even if it’s not my hair, it’s still a message. Remember, when Doyle killed her first two victims, she sewed their lips shut with strands of my hair. She also put a box of my hair on Ripley’s doorstep once. We know she stole my hairbrush from my bag, so she definitely has a supply of it. This is her way of saying that things are just going to get worse from here. She’s trying to say these victims’ blood is on my hands.’

Now, after nine months of chasing and nine months of disappointment, perhaps there was an air of truth to Doyle’s bloody message. If Ella had worked harder to stop her – or had been more prepared last night when she invaded a stranger’s house – she might have Doyle in chains already.

‘The victims,’ Vernon asked. ‘Do we know who they are?’

‘Yes we do. They all had ID on them. Georgina Kemp, 24 years old. She was traveling here from Ohio. Her killer stabbed her in a frenzy. She had over 40 wounds on her body.’

Vernon rubbed his temples. ‘Good lord in heaven.’

‘Next is Dean Coyle, 42. He was the owner of a place called the End Zone Bar, which isn’t a million miles from here. His killer shot him eleven times with a 9mm. Casings were found at the scene.’

‘The End Zone?’ Dever piped up. ‘I go there sometimes. I was going to go there and watch the boxing last night, but…’

‘More pressing matters came up,’ Ella finished. She went for sarcasm and hit the mark, but it seemed to go right over Dever’s head.

‘And our last victim is Joe Humphries. He was 55. His killer jumped him at the Washbasin Laundromat and strangled him to death. The killing methods were different in every case, and victimology isn’t consistent. Even from a profiling point of view, these are three completely unrelated cases. The overlaps are that they all happened within a twenty mile radius, all happened within an hour of each other, and all had Dark’s hair left at the scene.’

Vernon rose from his chair and headed for the door. Ella watched him unlock it, pop his head around the door and tell the representatives that he wasn’t going to be finished here any time soon.

One of them protested. ‘But Mr Vernon, we need to report-’

‘Not today,’ Vernon shouted and slammed the door in the man’s face. He remained standing, now covering his mouth with praying-shaped hands. ‘This isn’t good. We need to get a lid on this immediately, because once the press get word of three violent homicides relating to public enemy number one - in one night, no less – we’re as good as screwed. I might as well hand in my resignation today.’

Justice was second only to politics in this game, Ella reminded herself. Even the few good ones, which she had deemed Vernon to be, weren’t immune to the occasional selfish thought.

‘Well,’ Dever said. ‘We need to get to the crime scenes and see these bodies for ourselves. If we can uncover just one of these killers, we can use them as bait to catch Doyle, surely?’

Ella was one of the lucky few people on earth with an elephant’s memory, but it constantly disturbed her just how short other people’s memories could be. Dever, it seemed, occasionally boasted the memory span of a late-stage dementia patient.

‘Terrance. Cast your mind back to literally an hour ago. Do you remember?’