Page 25 of Girl, Bound

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Ella's stomach churnedas she pulled up outside James LaPlante's residence. Calling it a house wouldbe an insult to architecture everywhere. The structure before her was aramshackle nightmare, a patchwork of rotting wood, peeling paint, and a roofthat sagged like a drunk after last call. The porch light flickeredintermittently, casting the facade in an eerie, pulsating glow that set herteeth on edge.

She checked her trustyGlock, ensuring a round was chambered and the magazine was full. Sixteenchances to put this bastard down if things went sideways. Ripley shot her alook, one eyebrow cocked in that sardonic way of hers. ‘You really think thisis our guy? I mean, I've seen crack dens with better curb appeal.’

Ella shrugged, atight, economic motion. ‘Don't judge a book by its meth lab cover. If there'sone thing I've learned in this job, it's that evil doesn't always look thepart.’

She stepped out of thecar, the cool night air a welcome slap to the senses after the stiflingconfines of the sedan. The cracked concrete of the driveway crunched beneathher boots as she approached the front door, Ripley falling into step besideher.

Ella's heart thuddedagainst her ribs. She raised her fist, knuckles poised to strike the old wood.A deep breath, then another. Steeling herself for whatever fresh hell awaitedon the other side.

She knocked, the soundechoing through the stillness like a gunshot. Silence. She knocked again,harder this time. A light flickered to life in the depths of the house in asickly yellow glow spilling through the gaps in the curtains.

Footsteps, shufflingand uneven. The rattle of a chain, the scrape of a deadbolt. The door crackedopen, a sliver of a man's face appearing in the gap. Rheumy eyes, a wiry tangleof beard. The stench of stale cigarettes and unwashed flesh wafting out to greetthem.

‘James LaPlante?’ Ellakept her voice level, her features schooled into a mask of professionaldetachment.

A grunt, a nod. ‘Who'sasking?’

‘Special Agents Darkand Ripley, FBI.’ She held up her badge, the gold gleaming dully in the porchlight. ‘We need to ask you a few questions.’

LaPlante's eyes dartedfrom the badge to Ella's face, to Ripley looming beside her. A trapped animal,looking for an escape route. ‘Questions about what?’

Ella leaned in, just afraction. Enough to make him uncomfortable. ‘There's been a string of murdersin Millhaven recently. Bodies turning up in some unusual circumstances. We havereason to believe you might know something about that.’

The moment stretched,taut and thrumming with unspoken menace. LaPlante's mouth worked soundlessly,his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. Ella sensed something was on thehorizon. A revelation. Perhaps a breakdown and a confession if fortune was inher favor.

LaPlante shifted hisweight to either side, leg jittering. Ella saw beyond the unwashed exterior tothe man beneath.

This man had somethingto hide.

But then, in a blur ofmotion, he slammed the door, the chain rattling as he fumbled to secure it.

Ella shot into heraction.

Her foot shot out,jamming into the gap just as the door closed. Pain lanced through her ankle,but she gritted her teeth and shouldered forward, Ripley right behind her.

They burst into thehouse in a whirlwind. LaPlante was already running, his skinny legs pumping ashe fled down the dimly lit hallway. Ella gave chase, her pulse rate spiking.She followed the blur, discovering a labyrinth of cluttered rooms and narrow corridors,the air thick with the stench of mildew and mold. LaPlante darted into thekitchen, his shoulder clipping the doorframe as he careened around the corner.Ella followed, her boots skidding on the grimy linoleum.

He made for the backdoor, his fingers scrabbling at the lock. But Ella was on him in two strides,her hand clamping down on his shoulder, spinning him around. He lashed out, awild haymaker that whistled past her ear as she ducked and drove her knee intohis gut.

LaPlante doubled over,wheezing, but his slimy figure slid through her grip. He staggered backward,knocking over a stack of dirty dishes with a crash. Then he was running again,vanishing into the gloom of the living room.

Ella cursed under herbreath and gave chase, vaulting over an overturned chair and narrowly avoidinga broken beer bottle that glinted murderously in the weak light. She could hearRipley somewhere behind her, the thud of her footsteps mingling with the bloodroaring in Ella's ears.

LaPlante took thestairs two at a time, his heavy breathing echoing in the claustrophobicstairwell. Ella bounded after him, her thighs burning with the effort. Shereached the top just in time to see him disappear into one of the bedrooms, thedoor slamming shut behind him.

She didn't hesitate.One well-placed kick and the door flew open, the cheap wood splintering aroundthe lock. She burst into the room, gun drawn, scanning for any sign ofmovement.

But the room wasempty. No LaPlante, no place to hide. Just a sagging mattress on a rusted metalframe, a dresser with half the drawers missing, and a closet door hangingdrunkenly off its hinges.

Ella's eyes narrowed.The closet. It was the only place he could be. She approached warily, herfinger resting lightly on the trigger guard. Reached out with her free hand,slowly.

Slower still.

The door explodedoutward, the force of it sending Ella staggering back. LaPlante came barrelingout, a wild-eyed blur of flailing limbs and animal panic. He slammed into her,knocking the gun from her hand as they both went down in a tangle of thrashingbodies.

Ella grunted as herback hit the floor, the air whooshing from her lungs. LaPlante was on top ofher, his wiry frame belying a desperate strength. His hands found her throat,fingers digging into the soft flesh, cutting off her air.

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