Page 63 of Girl, Bound

Every nerve endingcame alive.

There was no denyingit.

Adam Draven was theirkiller.

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

‘Draven?’ Ripleyasked.

Ella's mind was arunaway train, barreling down the tracks at breakneck speed. The pieces werefalling into place so fast it was almost dizzying. A kaleidoscope of clues andconnections that had been staring her in the face all along.

She whirled on Ripley,her words tumbling out in a rush. ‘Think back to our little chat with AdamDraven at the wildlife center. The moment we mentioned animal sedatives, he gotall twitchy, remember?’

‘Yeah, he saidsomething about not having much demand for Xylazine. Seemed pretty specific atthe time.’

‘Exactly!’ Ellacrowed, slamming her hand down on the desk. ‘But when we took a peek insidethat storage room, they had a whole damn pharmacy in there. Detomidine,Romifidine, you name it. So how the hell did Draven know we were looking forXylazine?’

Ripley's eyes widened,the realization hitting her like a sucker punch to the gut. ‘Son of a bitch. Heknew because he's the one who's been using it. The bastard practicallygift-wrapped himself for us.’

Ella nodded, a fierce,feral grin splitting her face. ‘And that's not all. Remember how eager he wasto show us those inventory logs? Bragging about how every needle was accountedfor?’

‘But Goodweather saidXylazine is usually given orally,’ Ripley murmured, her mind racing to catchup. ‘So why the hell would Draven be talking about needles?’

‘Because he's the onewho's been sticking them in people's necks,’ Ella said, voice rising withexcitement. ‘It's him, Mia. Adam Draven. The IT technician. He's the Body BagKiller.’

‘I can't believe wedidn't see it sooner. The guy was practically waving a red flag in our faces.’

‘Hindsight'stwenty-twenty,’ Ella said. ‘And fits the profile to a T. White-collar,unassuming, able to blend in like a chameleon. And with his tech skills, hecould've doctored those inventory logs and security tapes without breaking asweat.’

Ripley was hot on herheels, her own weapon already drawn and ready. ‘It’s nearly ten PM. Ready to goand kick this guy’s door down?’

Ella rushed to herlaptop, searched Draven’s name and landed his address.

‘We'll hit his placefirst, see if we can catch him with his pants down. We just better hope he’sthere.’

‘You got an address?’

‘210 Oakmont Avenue.’

‘Let’s bag the son ofa bitch.’

She could feel theadrenaline surging through her veins, the thrill of the hunt singing in herblood. This was what she lived for, the rush of putting the pieces together andnailing the bad guy to the wall.

Adam Draven had sownthe wind, had played his twisted games and danced with the darkness. But now,it was time for him to reap the whirlwind.

This ended tonight.One way or another, the Body Bag Killer was going down.

***

Ella gunned theengine, the car eating up the miles like a starving dog tearing into a steak.The address for Adam Draven's little love shack was seared into her brain, ataunting reminder of how close they were to nailing this piece of work.

She could feelRipley's presence beside her, a coiled spring of tension and barely-containedviolence. They were two sides of the same coin, partners forged in the fires ofhell and tempered by the blood of the innocent.

The house loomedahead, a squat little bungalow that seemed to shrink back from the road like aguilty secret. It was the kind of place where bad things happened behind closeddoors, where the neighbors turned a blind eye and pretended not to hear the screams.

Ella slammed on thebrakes and was out the door before the engine had even stopped ticking. Herhand was already wrapped around the comforting weight of her Glock. Ripley wasright behind her.

The house was dark,the windows black and lifeless. No flicker of movement behind the curtains, notelltale glow of a television or the hum of an air conditioner. It was like theplace was holding its breath, waiting for the hammer to fall.

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