Page 7 of Girl, Remembered

Whatever Dever had loaded up next, he didn’t fire it. He looked at Ripley for a minute and the flush went down his neck. ‘I could, but we’d be here all night.’

Ella reached out, grabbed Ripley’s arm and pulled her away. A second later and Dever might have needed a trip to the dentist. ‘Less of the dick measuring contest. You’re both old enough to know better.’

The subtle jab seemed to work, although Ripley was still staring at Dever like he’d insulted her father. In a way, Ella guessed he had. Ripley’s fury would diminish soon enough, and in the meantime Ella watched Vernon across the way. She’d gotten a lot of mileage over the years out of watching people take phone calls. Spines revealed things the face had been trained not to, and Vernon’s spine was saying a lot. The Director-in-a-budget-hearing posture had drained out of it, and Vernon was hunched over with his hands on a cruiser, like he was steadying himself on a boat. Now that Ripley and Dever had finished their tiff, Ella could half make out Vernon’s conversation.

‘Where? Who found him? How? I got another call coming. Send me the reports.’ Vernon hung up one call and took another. ‘Vernon speaking. Yes it is. You’re kidding? But how?’

Ella caught Ripley’s eye across the lot. Two phone calls back-to-back at three in the morning, and Vernon’s spine getting worse with each one. Ripley’s fury at Dever had gone out like a pilot light. Whatever was coming down that phone had drawn Ripley’s and Dever’s full attentions too.

Vernon hung up and stood a moment with his back to them, looking at the fare gates. Then he returned.

‘This is odd. Very odd,’ Vernon said. ‘That was Milwaukee County on the phone. Guards found Maxwell Tanner hanging from a bedsheet in his cell thirty minutes ago.’

Ella’s stomach rolled over. ‘Tanner? Are you serious?’

‘Yes. And not just that, but the Orleans Parish called too. Edgar Borden slashed his wrists. The guards found him bleeding out. They couldn’t save him in time.’

‘Whoa, hold up. Who are Maxwell Tanner and Edgar Borden?’ Dever asked. ‘The names sound familiar but-’

‘Tanner is the Scarecrow. He killed three people, using their own fears as the killing methods. Edgar Borden is the Figurine Killer, responsible for four deaths last month.’

‘And they both committed suicide?’

Ripley said, ‘Two facilities. A thousand miles apart. Same night.’

‘How is that possible?’

‘It gets worse,’ Vernon said. ‘Milwaukee’s perimeter cameras picked up a drone around 2AM their time. It came up the east face of the tower, held there under a minute, then dropped away. The duty sergeant flagged it as a contraband run, searched the rec yard, found nothing, then wrote it up as kids. It held at the ninth floor. Tanner was on the ninth floor. And I’ve just asked Orleans Parish to pull their overnight camera logs, because I’d bet my pension they’ll find the same thing.’

In future years, when a doctor asked Ella why her blood pressure was so high, she’d point to this moment. Her pulse was beating so fast it felt like her insides were on fire. She made a heroic attempt to do the math but it didn’t work no matter which way she spliced it. Doyle had been standing in this lot at 1AM, twenty feet away, as she laid out gun parts on a bench. Milwaukee was two in the morning their time, three o’clock here. Even a private jet didn’t make that geography work, and Lindsey Doyle did not have a private jet, and Orleans Parish was another thousand miles the other direction.

‘Someone is flying those drones for her, or she arranged it in advance. Either way this is coordinated, and if it’s coordinated it isn’t finished.’

‘Yeah. She’s taking out her boys,’ Ripley said. ‘Or getting them to take out themselves. Dark, how many other disciples does Doyle have?’

‘Two that I know of. Gabriel Winters and Simon Varro, and we need to get both of them on suicide watch right now.’

‘Rick, get that done,’ Ripley said. Vernon’s phone shot back to his ear, and Dever used the opportunity to skulk away, probably to avoid having to commit to anything. Over in the shelter, a technician carried off the last of the evidence, and the bench became a simple bench again. There was nothing left in the whole acre of asphalt to say Lindsey Doyle had ever been here.

Ripley said, ‘Doyle is housekeeping.’

‘Which means we need to throw some dirt in there. We need to get to HQ and get everything we’ve ever had on this woman spread across the table. If she’s got an endgame, we need to figure it out. She said earlier tonight that she’d given me everything I needed to find her.’

‘Let’s go. From here on out, we focus on Doyle and nothing else. If Vernon asks us to work another case, we tell him to go to hell. Got it?’

‘Got it.’

‘Call Luca, call everyone who might be a target. We’ll put them in a hotel.’

It was time. First Ella would make sure her people were safe, then she’d go to war with Doyle until only one was left standing. Lindsey Doyle was driving with fifteen of Ella’s own bullets riding beside her, and Ella intended to turn every single one against her.

CHAPTER THREE

Colin Wray left his mother’s house at 3AM with the knife taped along his forearm. He also had a bus timetable in his back pocket, just in case anyone stopped him.

This had not been the plan. The plan had been chiseled in stone for months and to deviate from it was tantamount to certain failure. Colin Wray had never been a violent man or even an impulsive man, and perhaps that was why, when his mentor told him to abandon the previous plan and carve a brand new one on a whim, he’d obeyed his master’s command without hesitation.

As he headed toward the Silver Spring Transit Center, Colin ruminated on what tonight had taught him: he was a slave, and always had been. Once upon a time he’d been a slave to everything above him, from his boss to his ex-wife, both of whom he’d made rich and received minimum compensation for his efforts. His boss was appreciative, of course, and his ex-wife more so, but they were both happy to leave Colin with just enough while they indulged in excess.