Page 57 of Girl, Bound

But it was the medsthat caught Ella's eye, the boxes of pills and bottles of liquid with long,unpronounceable names. Deworming pills, antibiotics, even a few vials of whatlooked like horse tranquilizers.

‘Mother of god,’ shemuttered, picking up a bottle and squinting at the label. ‘Looks like our boy’sbeen busy playing Noah's Ark.’

She turned back to thejunkie, who was watching them with a sullen, shifty-eyed gaze. ‘The hell is allthis, Connor? You a vet by night?’

Bixby just sneered,his lips curling back from his yellowed teeth. ‘So what if I lifted a fewthings from the zoo? Ain't like they were using it. Figured I could make aquick buck, sell it to some other schmuck.’

‘And did you?’

‘Barely. Turns out theonly people who want that garbage is the people I stole it from.’

Ella turned back tothe cupboard, rifling through the haphazard piles of pilfered goods. But asmuch as she dug, she couldn't find any trace of the sedatives they were after.

Frustration simmeredin her gut. A slow burn that threatened to boil over into full-blown rage. Shewhirled on Bixby, her eyes narrowing to slits.

‘The sedatives,’ shespat, the word tasting like poison on her tongue. ‘Where is it, Bixby? Don'ttry and lie to me, I know you took it. It's the only thing missing from thisgoddamn medicine cabinet.’

Bixby blinked at her,his face a mask of blank incomprehension. ‘The -what-now? Lady, I don't knowwhat you're talking about. I never touched no sedatives, I swear on my mama'sgrave.’

Ella stared at him,her eyes boring into his like twin drills. She was looking for the lie, theflicker of guilt or deceit that would give him away.

But as much as itpained her to admit it, she couldn't see any sign of falsehood in Bixby's dull,glassy gaze.

By every psychologicalmetric, the guy was telling the truth. Or at least, what passed for truth inhis addled, junkie brain. He might be a thief and a scumbag, but he wasn'ttheir killer. He just didn't fit the profile, didn't have the brains or the ballsto pull off something like this.

‘What about Fridaynight?’ she pressed, grasping at straws. ‘Or Sunday and Monday. You got analibi for those nights, Bixby? Someone who can vouch for your whereabouts?’

Bixby just shrugged,his shoulders rising and falling like a puppet with its strings cut. ‘Nah, man.I was here, same as always. Just me and the TV, watching infomercials andsmoking myself stupid. Ain't nobody gonna back that up, though. I'm a lone wolf,baby.’

Ella growled infrustration, her fists clenching at her sides. She wanted to pound the truthout of him, to beat a confession from his lying lips. But she knew it wasuseless, knew that Bixby was just another dead end in a case full of them.

Ripley leaned in toher. ‘I can’t tell if he’s a moron or a good actor,’ she said.

Ella couldn’t see it.Couldn’t picture this man sneaking up on three people, hitting their veins witha needle and then dragging them into body bags – all without leaving a tracebehind. The man was sweating his ass off just crouching beside a radiator. Ifhe’d have stalked, poisoned and manhandled three victims, those body bags wouldbe laced with his DNA.

‘He’s not our guy,Mia. He can’t be.’

'Dark, come on. Theman's got a closet full of medicine. Of course, there wouldn't be sedatives inhere if he used it all.'

Ella tried butcouldn’t make the picture make sense. ‘Our unsub is organized, methodical, ableto blend in with the shadows. I can hear Bixby breathing from here. Plus, everyscene was clean as a whistle. Could someone this in-your-face pull that off?’

‘You don’t think so?’

‘Look at the man. He’sgot hairy hands. Greasy hair. Flaky skin on his fingers. He managed to killthree people without leaving any DNA on the bodies – or body bags.’

‘Alright, but we can’tgive him the benefit of the doubt just yet. We need to take him in. Get hisstatement, maybe get some guys to scour this place from top to bottom. He couldhave sedatives hidden somewhere else.’

Ripley’s phone buzzedlike an angry wasp. She fished it out of her pocket and glanced at the screen.

‘It’s Holbrook.’

‘Answer it and prayit’s good news,’ Ella said.

Ripley did. Shepressed the phone to her ear. Ella could hear Holbrook’s voice cracking throughthe line.

Then, Ripley’sexpression fell flat.

Ella read it, knew thelook, knew that it was a precursor to bad news.

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