Page 72 of Girl, Remembered

Ella clocked the shape. It was small, circular and angled just enough to offer a sightline around a corner. Every cop in the world used them before storming a room.

Ripley used them.

Her pulse was beating so fast that maintaining a firm shooting stance was difficult. Her hands were trembling. Her thoughts were clouded. One wrong move could turn the Milestone Bar into a mass grave.

Ella kept her eyes on Doyle. The three men were scattered wide across the room, distracted, watching her and Edis and each other. None of them had noticed the movement near the window.

Small mercies. If it stayed that way.

She needed a little magic.

Or more precisely, misdirection.

Ella backed away from Doyle, toward the door, which was guarded by the guy with the carving knife.

‘Colin, guard the door! Don’t let her move! And Ella, put the gun down.’

‘No.’

‘You’ve got three seconds, or Mr. Edis dies right now. Three, two…’

Snap decision. If she had to risk her own live to save Edis’s, that was fine by her. ‘Okay. You got it.’

Ella slowly placed her Glock on the ground. She kicked it underneath a table, out of reach.

‘Good girl.’

Carving Knife positioned himself behind her. Meanwhile, the other two relocated themselves. Smith & Wesson Man turned his gun on her, and the fellow with Edis’s Glock did the same.

Three weapons were poised to execute her.

But only one was a threat, at least to her. Edis was another story.

Doyle continued, ‘Go on, Ella. I said you’ve got one more chance to figure me out.’

She didn’t know what else to tell her, so she started talking with no destination in sight. ‘Female killers don’t tend to-’

‘Ella. You’re doing it again.’

Edis this time. Each word that emerged from his throat was accompanied by a dose of blood.

Lindsey tightened her grip on him. ‘Shut up. Nobody asked you.’

‘Overthinking,’ Edis continued, defiantly. ‘I’m no detective… anymore… but it’s… much simpler.’

What’s he talking about?

‘Is it really, Mr. Edis?’ asked Lindsey.

‘Yes. This isn’t… complicated.’

‘Then go on, Mr. FBI. Tell me what you think you know.’

‘Miss Dark is a hero. The world knows it. She’s young. Good looking. You are… not.’

Ella had always thought it infantile to try and condense down the complexity and nuance of human behavior down to a handful of bitesize snippets of wisdom. She’d tried herself, over the years, and always ended up getting too wordy.

William Edis – not a behavioral profiler – had done an admirable job.