Page 18 of Girl, Reformed

But scratch that wholesome surface, andwhat did you find? Strip away the veneer of picket fences and porch swings, andwhat dark things scuttled underneath?

Ella had to question whether or not itmattered. This could be Delaware ru,ral France, or the seventh circle of hell.Everywhere had their secrets, hidden ugliness. And sometimes, that uglinesscouldn't be contained anymore. Sometimes, it came boiling up to the surface,seeping out through the cracks in the sidewalk like pus from a festering wound.

‘He hasn’t just built this thing in themiddle of the trees,’ Luca continued. ‘It’s literally on a stage, where eyesare naturally drawn.’

‘Even when it’s empty,’ Ella said.

‘Probably stakes out his hunting groundsin advance. Knows the blind spots, the places where he can strike withoutdrawing attention,’ Luca chimed in.

Ella nodded. The kid was catching onquickly. ‘He's organized, meticulous. This whole scene, it's literal theater tohim. He's sending a message, making a statement.’

‘By turning his victims into a sideshowattraction?’ Harland grunted, equal parts disgusted and baffled.

‘In his twisted little mind, yeah.’ Ellacircled the stocks, taking in every angle, every splinter. ‘Chances are our guysees himself as an artist, only instead of paint and canvas, he's using boneand wood. Humiliation. Debasement. He's stripping them of their humanity, theirdignity. Putting them on display like animals in a zoo.’

She could almost hear the howls of thecrowd, feel the rotten vegetables splattering against wood and skin. Publicshaming, medieval style. Cruel and visceral, designed to break the spirit asmuch as the body.

Harland asked, ‘Couldn’t this freak justbe obsessed with old torture devices or something? He’s done this twice in twodays now.’

‘No. If that was the case, he’d mix thingsup. The stocks are crucial to his fantasy. This is a power trip,’ shecontinued, mind spinning out the theory. ‘He's playing judge, jury andexecutioner.’

The chief just shook his head, the disgusteating him away. Ella couldn't blame him. Staring into the heart of darknessday after day took its toll. They were all just different degrees of damned.

And if the killer’s two-bodies-in-two-dayspattern was anything to go by, they’d need to act quickly before another bodydropped into their laps.

Harland rocked back on his heels thenchecked his cell phone. 'I'll have my boys send over what we've got so far.Witness statements, CCTV footage, the whole nine. The coroner's ready for youif you want me to drop you at the morgue.'

‘Please,’ Ella said. She glanced at Luca,who was still transfixed by the makeshift stocks. ‘Hawkins, burn that imageinto your mind because it’s the last we’ll see of it. Harland, can you getthose stocks into evidence? The last thing we need is some journalist sneakingin here and snapping it.’

‘Roger that,’ Harland said as he got onhis radio. Luca stepped back from the murder throne and shook off thediscomfort.

‘Morgue?’ Luca asked.

‘Yup. Ready?’

He sucked in a deep breath through grittedteeth. ‘Uh. This is the part I’m dreading.’

Ella eyed Luca, taking in the green tingeto his skin and the faint sheen of sweat on his brow. ‘Not squeamish are you,Hawkins?’

Luca swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbinglike a yo-yo. 'Uh, yeah. You could say that.'

'Luckily, I brought some sick bags.'

‘You think of everything, don’t you?’

She flashed back to her first time seeinga stiff, up close and personal, Ripley looming over her shoulder like aredheaded gargoyle. The minute the sheet came back, Ella's knees had turned tojello. Ripley had just squeezed her cheeks and told her to suck it up.

And damn if Ripley hadn't been right. Youeither learned to stomach the ugliness, or you washed out fast in this gig.

But looking at Luca now, all wide-eyed andwobbly-kneed, Ella couldn't bring herself to go full drill sergeant just yet.He was still as green as a shamrock, so the last thing he needed was a boot tothe groin on his first day.

‘First time's always the worst. It getseasier. Or at least, you get better at faking it.’ She jerked her head towardsthe car. ‘C'mon, let's get this show on the road. The dead ain't getting anydeader.’

As they slid into the car, Ella shot aglance over her shoulder at the murder scene. The stocks still squatted therelike a nightmare made real. She couldn't shake the image of a limp torso lockedin that thing, just waiting to be discovered by an oblivious passerby.

The unsub could justify it however hewanted. Dress it up in a pretty bow and call it righteousness or revenge ortherapy. At the end of the day, he was still a rabid dog that needed puttingdown.

But for now, it was time to initiate hernew partner. Baptism by blood and guts.

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