Page 44 of Girl, Bound

He steadied his nervesthen cautiously peered out from his hiding spot.

Just an empty street.Nothing but broken dreams and shattered hopes.

No sign of hispursuer, no hint of danger lurking in the gloom.

The tension drainedfrom his body like water from a leaky faucet. He straightened up, brushing thedirt and grime from his oversized suit.

Time to get back ontrack.

But as Christianstepped out of his hiding place, the world suddenly morphed into a blurry,unrecognizable mass of shapes and colors.

His knees buckled,legs turned to jelly. He collapsed to the ground, limbs splayed out. The worldbegan to spin like a demented carousel, and as he tried to move, his bodywouldn't obey. He tried to claw, to sit up and take stock of his surroundings,but movement was impossible. It was like he was trapped in a cocoon of his ownflesh. A prisoner in a body that was no longer his own.

Through the haze ofconfusion and terror, Christian caught a glimpse of something that made hisblood run cold. A large, black shape, looming over him like the specter ofdeath itself.

A body bag.

Suddenly, his worldnarrowed to a single searing pain in his neck.

He tried to scream, tocry out for help. But his voice was trapped in his throat, a silent scream thatwent unheard in the uncaring night. He could feel the darkness closing in, theshadows reaching out to claim him as their own.

As his world faded toblack, he heard a voice, a whisper that seemed to come from everywhere andnowhere at once.

‘Don’t worry,’ itsaid. ‘You’ll either wake up changed… or won’t wake up at all.’

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Ella stared throughthe one-way glass, her eyes boring into the back of Patrick Barber's head likea pair of high-powered drills. The interrogation room was an unforgiving box.The kind of place where hope came to die and the truth was beaten out of eventhe most stubborn of suspects.

And Patrick Barberwould be its next victim.

But Barber wasn'ttalking. He just sat there, his shoulders slumped and his face a mask of sullendefiance. Like a petulant child who'd been caught with his hand in the cookiejar and was determined to blame everyone else for it.

Ella could feel theweight of the other cops' stares on her back, the prickle of their resentmentlike a thousand tiny needles under her skin. She didn't need to turn around toknow what they were thinking. Didn't need to see the shaking heads and the pursedlips to feel the waves of hostility rolling off them like heat from a blastfurnace.

She glanced over atRipley, her partner in crime and the only other person in this godforsakenprecinct who seemed to have her back. Ripley met her gaze, a wry twist to herlips that said she knew exactly what Ella was thinking.

‘You'd think we justpissed in their coffee and kicked their dogs for good measure,’ Ripley said.

Ella snorted, ahumorless sound that was more like a bark than a laugh. ‘What did you expect?We just dragged one of their own in like a sack of dirty laundry. To them,we're the enemy. Outsiders who don't know jack about how things work aroundhere.’

Ripley shrugged in afluid motion that somehow managed to convey both indifference and disdain.‘They can go to hell. We're here to do a job, not win a popularity contest. Ifthey don't like it, they can go cry somewhere else.’

Ella couldn't help butsmile at that, a brief flash of genuine amusement in the midst of all the gloomand doom. Trust Ripley to cut through the nonsense with a razor-sharp wit and atake-no-prisoners attitude. It’s why she loved her.

But the moment wasshort-lived, shattered by the sound of footsteps approaching from behind. Ellaturned to see Sheriff Holbrook striding in their direction. He carried theresentment of his officers like a badge of honor, a chip on his shoulder thesize of the Grand Canyon.

‘I hope you're happy,’he growled, his eyes flashing with the kind of righteous indignation that onlya man who'd just seen his authority challenged could muster. ‘Was it worth it?Dragging one of my best men in here like a common criminal?’

Ella didn’t flinch. ‘Idon't know, Sheriff. You tell me. Barber hasn't said a word since we got him inthe car. Not exactly the picture of innocence, is he?’

Holbrook's face turnedan alarming shade of purple. He had veins where there shouldn’t be veins.‘Because he is innocent, you fools. Barber's a good cop, a family man. Hewouldn't do something like this.’

Ella felt a flicker ofdoubt, a tiny spark of uncertainty that she quickly tried to smother. Sheturned back to the window, studying Barber's hunched form like it held thesecrets of the universe. Ella hated to admit it, but now, chained and fettered,he didn't look like a killer. Far from it. Too brash, too in-your-face. TheBody Bag Killer was a rattlesnake in the grass, a phantom in the night. Barberwas more like a bull in a china shop, all noise and bluster and brokencrockery.

‘What do you think?’Ripley cut through, clearly ignoring Holbrook. ‘You buying this whole 'innocentman' routine?’

Ella chewed her lip.‘I don't know. I mean, he's got the connections, the motive. But you're right.He doesn't seem like the type to sneak up on his victims, to take them out witha needle and a body bag. I can definitely see him propositioning a young woman,but killing? I don’t know.’

---