Page 76 of Girl, Remembered

If Ella narrowed her eyes, she could make out the pond in the darkness.

Here she sat, in the parking lot of the Milestone Bar, beside a red sleeping bag, bottles of water and, most strangely of all, her old cell phone. It was the same phone she’d used to call then-director William Edis at this very bar, in this very spot, two years ago, to begin her life as a field agent.

And this was – had been – Lindsey Doyle’s hideout.

Now it was a crime scene. A woman had died here tonight. A man had been shot. An hour had passed since the last shot rang out, which was long enough for an ambulance, six state police cars, and a medical examiner to arrive, all of whom were now doing their parts. Her nose was crooked, and she had no feeling in her right hand. If her knuckles never healed, she'd consider it a small price to pay. She texted Luca to say it was over and begged him to drive home right now so she could see him before sunrise.

Ella couldn’t assign a feeling to this moment. Perhaps when reflecting in years to come she would, but for now it was a jumbled, unidentifiable mess. She simply basked in the breeze that came off the distant pond, and after what felt like ten minutes but was more like thirty seconds, a figure rounded the corner into the lot.

It was Vernon. His split lip was still glossy. ‘Hey, Ella. How are you feeling?’

‘Hard to say. How’s your injury?’

Vernon touched his lip. ‘This thing? It’s nothing. You should see the other guy.’

‘Ha. What happened, exactly? I couldn’t see.’

‘Ripley positioned herself at this window.’ Vernon pointed to it. ‘She jumped in and took out the guy with the Smith & Wesson. Thanks for the tip, by the way.’

Before Ella breached the Milestone, she’d called Ripley and left the line connected. Everything she said during her showdown had been transmitted. She’d warned Ripley of the threats before she’d appeared at the window. ‘No problem. Me and Ripley know the drill by now.’

‘You certainly do. Dever and I took the front entrance. The door was locked, but Dever kicked it in. We went straight for the guy with the blade while Ripley took out the guy with the Glock. Great thinking on that part, by the way. I didn’t even know about that.’

The disciple who’d stolen Edis’s Glock 19M couldn’t have fired it in a million years, because federal-issue Glock 19Ms had biometric scanners on the handle. Edis might not have been FBI anymore, but when he left, Ella remembered that they’d let him keep his gun as a memento.

'I was worried that Edis might have deactivated the biometrics, but I had faith in him. Edis is a man of predictability.' She looked in the direction of the empty cans of electric blue paint and smiled, despite the circumstances.

‘It paid off. It got physical with the knife guy. He got a shot at my lip, but it could have been a lot worse.’

Ella nodded. ‘And Dever?’

‘I’ll deal with Dever tomorrow. No injuries, but all that stuff about his history with Doyle? I can’t let that fly. I don’t see an outcome where he still works for us by Monday.’

Ella didn’t know what to do with that. She didn’t understand Dever’s motivations for keeping the incident quiet, but at the same time she understood it perfectly. Dever had been chasing a serial killer while trying to honor his promise to a little girl, both of whom were the same person. Dever had wanted to save her a second time, the same way he had the first. It made him unprofessional, but it also made him human. It was sometimes difficult to distinguish between the two.

‘I don’t envy you that conversation,’ Ella said. ‘What about the disciples? And Edis?’

‘Those three guys have been escorted back to the MPD. All alive, one of them barely. Ripley shot him in the shoulder. We’re hoping they’re the ones responsible for those three killings,’ – Vernon checked his watch – ‘twenty-four hours ago now. We’re being optimistic.’

Ella’s gut feeling said that that was exactly who they were. ‘And Edis? You know, I never met the man until twenty minutes ago, but he’s a warrior. He’s out front, in the back of an ambulance.’

‘Is he in any condition to talk?’

‘Yes and no. I’d wait until he recovers before asking him anything.’

Another figure rounded the corner. This time it was Ripley, who had somehow procured a bottle of rum. She removed the cap and drank it neat, then fixed a stare at Vernon.

Ripley extended her hand. ‘You finally got your hands dirty.’

'Yes, I did.' Vernon accepted the gesture. 'Great work on taking out the guy with a working pistol. Without killing him.'

‘Lucky shot. Or unlucky shot.’

‘I’ll take either. I’ll leave you two to it, but before I go… Ripley, would you stop by my office the next chance you get?’

‘Okay. What for?’

‘I just need to talk.’