Page 21 of Girl, Reformed

The worst kind of monster. The kind thatdidn't stop until someone made them.

Ella stripped off her gloves with a snap,tossing them into the trash with a flick of her wrist. ‘Thanks for thebreakdown, doc. We'll be in touch if we need anything else.’

Patel inclined his head, bushy eyebrowswaggling in what might have been a parody of a bow. ‘You’re welcome. Toxicologyreports will be over ASAP. Do try not to darken my doorway again too soon,hmm?’

‘No promises.’ She flashed him arazor-edged smile, then turned to Luca, who looked like he was mentally chewingon all of the unpleasant facts. ‘We need to get to the precinct. Compare noteswith the local badges. See if anybody's shaken any leads out of the trees yet.’

Luca nodded, clearly relieved for anyexcuse to exit stage left out of this place. 'Yes, please.'

Ella caught Dr. Patel's eye, who waswatching them with a sort of detached, clinical fascination. Like they weresome novel new species of colorful bug, he'd found skittering under a rock. Shespun on her heel to stalk out of the morgue. She'd had about as much of thehouse of the dead as she could stomach for one day.

Luca fell into step beside her, his shinyshoes squeaking on the urine-colored linoleum. He was holding it togetheradmirably well, considering it was his first journey into the mouth of hell.

Ella pushed through the swinging doors,out of the cold storage and into the slightly less frigid hallway.

‘Great gag reflex,’ Ella said.

But away from prying eyes, Luca leanedagainst the wall and began panting. ‘Jesus wept. That was tough.’

‘You’d never know.’

Luca caught his breath then wiped a layerof sweat off his forehead. ‘I’m suddenly reminded of my own mortality.’

‘Yeah, that’ll happen.’

Her partner composed himself. ‘Who wantsto live forever?’

‘True.’

‘Right. Precinct.’

Something told her Luca Hawkins wasn't thewashing-out type. He might puke his guts up later when the adrenaline wore offand the nightmares came calling. But he'd be back in the saddle come morninglight, ready to do it all over again.

He had to be. Because the way this casewas shaping up, Ella had a feeling she was going to need all the back-up shecould get. Even if it came in the form of a green-around-the-gills rookie whostill had that new car smell.

‘Precinct. Let’s go.’

CHAPTER NINE

The Dover PD had all the ambiance of ameat locker and smelled about as fresh. Ella perched on the edge of a batteredmetal desk, trying to ignore the way the sharp edge dug into her backside.Across from her, Luca sat ramrod straight in a chair that looked like it hadbeen shut out by an office supply store circa 1975. His eyes darted around theroom, taking in the stained ceiling tiles and the sad little plant that wasmore brown than green. The place smelled like stale coffee, cheap disinfectant,and the slowly moldering dreams of a thousand burnt-out cops.

In other words, it felt just like home.

‘Welcome to the glamorous world of lawenforcement,’ Ella drawled, waving a hand at the squalor around them. ‘Betyou're regretting that career choice now, huh?’

Luca cracked a smile. ‘Not at all. This isexactly where I want to be.’

Ella snorted. ‘Well, you're in luck. Lookslike we'll be getting real cozy with these upstanding officers of the law.’ Shejerked her chin at the stack of files teetering on the desk between them.‘Assuming they manage to dig up anything useful on our victims, that is.’

They'd put in the request as soon asthey'd arrived - bank records, tax records, license plate hits, anything thatmight shed some light on who Archie Newman and Georgia Bolton were and whysomeone had decided to snuff them out like discount candles.

But in a city with this high of a crimerate, with cops working around the clock on an unlimited number of cases, shedoubted they’d get so much as a parking ticket violation before the day wasout.

Still, they had to start somewhere. Andright now, the sad, abbreviated lives of their two victims were the only leadthey had.

‘While we wait for the records to come in,I’ll check for anything about our victims online. Ransack their social mediaaccounts.’

‘Go ahead,’ Ella said as she turned to thestack of crime scene photos in front of her. ‘There's gotta be a connection.Something that made these two stand out to our unsub. People don't just wake upone morning and decide to start building torture sculptures in public parks.’

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