Page 8 of Girl, Bound

Mia did. She hitanswer, pasting on a smile that felt as false as a politician's promise.

‘Edis. What’s up?’

Silence, then Edis'sgravelly voice, rough as a smoker's cough. ‘Ripley. Sounds like the outdoors.Didn’t interrupt you did I?’

‘I’m fishing.’

‘You? Fishing?’

‘I'm not. But Martinis, and I'm trying this new thing called compromise.’

‘Well, I hate to rainon your romantic parade, but we've got a situation up in Maine that's got yourname written all over it. And it’s…. quite strange.’

Mia's detective sensesperked up like a bloodhound on a fresh scent. Edis wasn't one for drama. If hesaid weird, it was going to be a regular carnival of the bizarre.

‘Lay it on me,’ shesaid, already mentally packing her go-bag.

‘Two stiffs,’ Edissaid. ‘In body bags.’

Mia frowned. ‘Notexactly front page news, Will.’

‘I mean literally. Twovictims were found zipped up tight in body bags. Like someone wanted themgift-wrapped for the meat wagon.’

‘Interesting,’ Miasaid. ‘Where?’

'Millhaven, Maine.Tiny little speck on the map. The last homicide they had was probably somePilgrim taking a tomahawk to the skull. Can you get here in thirty?'

Mia turned to her man,who she’d seemingly lost to nature. He was in his own world, not a side-eye insight.

‘Alright. I’m headingin.’

‘Thanks. I’ll callAgent Dark in too.’

Mia ended the call, asigh leaving her lips like a deflating balloon. The job, that jealous mistress,had come calling once again, demanding her lifeblood. And like a good soldier,she had to answer. At least, she had to if she still wanted to collect that fatpension in two months.

‘Edis needs me at HQin thirty,’ she said, an apology written in the slump of her shoulders.

Martin, bless hisunflappable soul, just shrugged. ‘Duty calls, and she's got a mighty loud bark.You better hop to before she starts nipping at your heels.’

Mia couldn't help butchuckle. Martin had a way of putting things in perspective, of cutting throughthe gloom with a well-placed quip. It was one of the many reasons she lovedhim.

‘I'm sorry,’ she said,meaning it. ‘I know this was supposed to be our time.’

Martin waved off herapology like a pesky fly. ‘Don't you worry about me, darlin'. I've got thesehere fish to keep me company. They're not much for conversation, but they'reexcellent listeners.’

Mia snorted, picturingMartin trading war stories with a trout. It was an image that would keep hersmiling until she got back.

But as she gatheredher things, a cold thread of fear wormed its way into her heart. The memory ofTrevor, of his dead eyes staring up at her from a cold slab. The knowledge thatsomeone, somewhere, had their sights set on those closest to her.

She put a hand on histhigh and locked onto him with an intensity that could melt steel. ‘Promise meyou'll be careful. No unnecessary risks, no playing hero. Keep your head downand your gun close.’

Martin returned thegesture. He knew the stakes, knew the danger that lurked in the shadows. But hewas a stubborn old mule, and he wouldn't be cowed by some faceless threat.

‘I'll be fine,’ hesaid. ‘I've been taking care of myself since before you were a twinkle in yourdaddy's eye. Ain't no two-bit killer gonna get the drop on me.’

Mia wanted to believehim, wanted to wrap herself in the comfort of his confidence. But the detectivein her, the part that had seen the very worst of humanity, couldn't quite letgo of the dread eating away at her gut.

She stepped closer,her hand finding his, fingers interlacing like puzzle pieces. ‘I mean it,Marty. Lock the doors, set the alarms. And if anything seems off, anything atall, you call me. Straight away. No cowboy stuff.’

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