Page 70 of Girl, Remembered

One key phrase had put it all together: Bates Motel.

Two years ago, Ella had been sitting in this very bar, writing a psychological profile of a fictional serial killer. William Edis had then met her here, and offered her chance to catch a real life one. That was when her descent had begun – and Doyle knew this. Of course Doyle knew this, and it was ridiculously obvious how.

Processing all of this would have to wait. Ella had more important things to do.

Because here she was. The author of her pain, standing a mere twenty feet away from her. This woman had executed three of Ella’s friends and tried to execute two more, and Ella would be damned if the sun rose and Doyle was still breathing.

‘I said put the gun down, Lindsey. Let Edis go.’

Doyle had pulled Edis up to his feet and was now using him as a shield. ‘There she is.’ The drawl was back, thick as it had been on the phone. ‘Right on time.’

‘Ella, get out of here,’ Edis spat. ‘Run. Leave me.’

She ignored her old boss’s plea. Ella kept the Glock trained on the gap between Doyle’s eyes, though the geometry of the room didn’t much favor a clean shot. Edis was in front of her with blood dripping steady off his chin, and any round Ella put into Doyle’s skull had six inches of FBI alumni to get through.

‘Let him go and it’s just us. That’s what you wanted, right? Me and you.’

‘That’s all I ever wanted.’

‘Now’s your chance. Edis has nothing to do with this.’

‘Yes he does, he has everything to do with this.’

‘Lindsey, I get it. You think Edis is responsible for me catching Creed, but he’s not. I am. I did it all myself. Creed was just a name to Edis.’

Edis tried to nod but he didn’t get very far. Doyle repositioned him.

‘Doesn’t matter. You’re both to blame.’

Ella stepped forward. The closer she got, the better chance she had of firing off a clean shot.

‘Ah, don’t come so close,’ Doyle continued. She snapped her fingers. ‘Boys. Shut the door. There’s a draft.’

Upon seeing that Edis was still alive, Ella had not resorted to panic.

But now – when she realized that Doyle hadn’t come alone, she did.

Bodies began to move. Ella twisted to find she was sharing this room with an extra one, two, three people.

What the hell?

Two had guns. One brandished a carving knife. They were all men, either just below or just beyond middle age. A heavyset man with a beard shut the door and attached the bolt. Ripley was eight minutes out, maybe less if she’d put her foot down the second Ella had mentioned the location, and Ella had every faith that she had.

‘Who are…?’ Ella stopped mid-sentence, because she had her answer. ‘The three murders today. You three.’

‘Correct,’ Doyle said.

Ella used the opportunity to back away from them, but closer to Doyle. But what good would it do now? The carving knife she could handle, but one guy had a SIG, another had a Glock 19, which was odd. Glock 19s were federal issue only.

Edis’s gun, she realized.

She turned back to Doyle and focused, but how the hell was she supposed to do this? Once Ripley arrived, Doyle would execute Edis. The guy with the SIG would shoot her and it would be game over.

Unless…

‘The door’s locked. You came in through the window, did you? The broken one.’ Ella spoke loudly. Loud enough that someone miles away might hear.

‘Oh, that’s what you want to talk about?’ Doyle laughed. ‘Ella Dark, too curious for her own good. I suppose you want to know why I brought you here.’