Page 64 of Girl, Bound

Ella pounded on thedoor.

No answer.

Another bang. A third.

Not a whisper, not apeep.

‘Shit,’ Ella hissed.She glanced around, noticing the lack of vehicle on the driveway. ‘What ifwe’re too late? What if this guy’s already halfway to the border?’

Ripley shook her head.‘We can't know that for sure. He could be out there right now, trolling for hisnext victim. We need to find him, Ella. Before he makes another family burytheir kid in a body bag.’

Ella raked a handthrough her hair, frustration and desperation warring in her gut. ‘And how thehell are we supposed to do that? Canvas the streets, flash his picture around?He could be anywhere, Mia. This town's massive.’

‘Then we startknocking on doors, shaking trees until something falls out. We're not gonna letthis freak slip through our fingers, not when we're this close.’

Ella hesitated. Sheknew Ripley was right, knew they couldn't afford to let Draven slip away. Butthe thought of dragging civilians into this mess, of putting innocent lives atrisk. It didn’t work for her.

She made her decision.‘No. We're not gonna go stomping around town like a couple of bulls in a chinashop. We do this smart, we do it clean. And we start right here, with thishouse of horrors.’

Ripley's eyebrows shotup. ‘What, you wanna break in? Dark, that's crazy. We don't have a warrant, wedon't have probable cause.’

‘If we get caught,we'll deal with it,’ Ella snapped, already moving towards the back of thehouse. ‘But right now, we've got a ticking clock and a killer on the loose.Eddie Shawcross is looking at a needle in his arm, and God knows how many otherother people are gonna end up in a bag before the night is out. I'm not gonnalet that happen, not on my watch.’

Ripley followed.‘You’re the boss. I’m the consultant.’

‘If we get in trouble,just say it was my idea.’

‘It was.’

She vaulted over thefence, her boots hitting the manicured grass of Draven's backyard with amuffled thump. The place was like something out of a magazine, all neatflowerbeds and perfectly-trimmed hedges. It made Ella's skin crawl, the thoughtof what kind of sickness could lurk beneath such a pretty façade.

She scanned thewindows, her eyes lighting on one that gaped open like a toothless mouth. Thekitchen, from the looks of it. Bingo.

Ella hoisted herselfup onto the sill, the rough wood biting into her palms. She slithered throughthe gap, landing in a crouch on the tile floor. Stale coffee permeated hersenses.

She moved to the doorand unhooked the bolt just as she saw Ripley’s outline land on the grass. Ellagently opened the door and welcomed her partner in.

Ripley nodded herthanks as Ella shut the door behind her. She drew her gun, the weight of it asfamiliar as an old lover's touch. The house seemed to hold its breath aroundthem, a tomb waiting for the dead to rise.

She moved through thehouse like a wraith, her senses on high alert for any sign of life. Every roomwas a black void, a gaping maw of shadows that seemed to swallow the beam ofher flashlight whole. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. A primal warningthat she was walking into the lion’s den.

The house was a tomb,silent as the grave and twice as black. Ella stalked through it like a pantheron the prowl, every nerve ending screaming danger. She flicked on lights as shewent, chasing away the shadows that clung to every corner like cobwebs.

The place was nice,she had to give Draven that much. Fancy digs for a freak who got his rocks off,stuffing people in body bags. Polished hardwood gleamed underfoot, pristinewhite walls mocked her with their emptiness. Each room was a goddamn PotteryBarn wet dream, all tasteful neutrals and shiny chrome.

Ella's lip curled indisgust. Draven's whole life was a mask, a shiny veneer hiding the rot beneath.She'd seen it before, the banality of evil dressed up in a three-piece suit.But knowing it didn't make the bile burn any less at the back of her throat.

She swept the livingroom, a hand-picked showroom of abstract art and uncomfortable-lookingfurniture. A painting on the wall caught her eye – jagged lines and angryslashes of red that made her think of blood spatter.

The kitchen was next,every gleaming appliance a monument to Draven's facade of normalcy. Ella's eyesflicked to the knife block on the counter, the handles jutting out like anarsenal of deadly teeth. She half expected to see blood crusting the blades, butthey glinted clean and sharp under the light.

‘Clear,’ she calledsoftly to Ripley, her voice swallowed up by the emptiness. Her partner emergedfrom a side room, holstering her gun with a grim nod.

They moved as one upthe stairs. First bedroom, clear. A guest room, bland and impersonal as a hotelsuite. The attached bath held nothing but fluffy towels and artisanal soapsthat probably cost more than Ella's rent. She and Ripley exchanged a glance, asilent what the hell hanging in the air between them.

Draven's room wasempty too, the California king bed smooth as a surgery slab under its grayduvet. Ella pictured him lying there, staring up at the ceiling while visionsof body bags danced in his head.

She riffled throughthe drawers, every folded shirt and carefully rolled sock mocking her withtheir ordinariness. Even his underwear was designer. Ella slammed the drawershut, the sound as loud as a bomb blast.

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