Page 29 of Girl, Reformed

She popped the door and climbed out intothe midday heat that slapped her like a scorned lover. Luca joined her and theytrudged up the cracked concrete driveway, dodging weeds sprouting through thegaps. Ella's gut churned like a washing machine on spin cycle. This part nevergot easier, no matter how many times she did it, but there was something abouthaving Luca beside her that she felt might make it easier to digest. A spoonfulof sugar.

‘Like you’re slaughtering a boar. You everbeen hunting?’ Ella asked.

‘I grew up on a farm. Dig the knife in,yank it out, tell yourself the animal died quickly.’

‘Just like that.’

They reached the porch, floorboardsgroaning under their feet like arthritic joints. Ella raised her fist to knock,but before she could make contact, the door swung open. A woman stood there,bird bones and sharp angles, eyes red-rimmed and puffy. Same dirty blonde hairas her sister, same sharp cheekbones. But where Georgia had been all smiles inher photos, this gal looked like she'd been through the wringer and hung out todry.

‘Marcy Bolton?’ Ella asked. A second later,she found herself staring at the woman’s palm.

‘Don’t say it,’ the woman said. ‘Don’ttell me she’s gone.’

Ella swallowed the lump in her throat, hertongue suddenly as dry as a desert bone. She'd rehearsed this moment a hundredtimes in her head on the drive over, practiced the words until they tasted likesandpaper. But now, face-to-face with Marcy's raw, naked grief, every platitudefelt like a slap in the face.

She cleared her throat, tried to injectsome semblance of authority into her voice. 'Ms. Bolton, I'm Agent Dark, andthis is Agent Hawkins. May we come in?'

‘Just say it. I need to hear it.’

‘We’re sorry, Marcy, but Georgia was founddead early this morning.’ Luca did the honors. Bless his heart.

Marcy made a sound, somewhere between asob and a scream, her whole body folding in on itself like a house of cards.Ella fought the urge to reach out, to offer some scrap of comfort. But she knewfrom experience that there was no comfort to be had, not in the face of a losslike this.

She waited, letting the silence stretch,giving Marcy a moment to collect the shattered pieces of herself. The least shecould do was let her purge the poison in a tidal wave of snot and salt water.When the woman finally looked up, her eyes were like two bruises in her paleskin.

‘How?’

Ella hesitated, weighing the truth againstthe need for tact. But one look at Marcy's desperate gaze and she knew shecouldn't sugarcoat this. The woman deserved the truth, no matter how ugly.

‘She was found in Chautauqua Park,’ Ellasaid gently. ‘Murdered.’

‘I knew it,’ Marcy croaked. ‘That goddamnloudmouth, always running her yap, pissing off the wrong people. I told her.Told her to keep her head down, mind her own business. But she just…’ She brokeoff, choking on her own words. Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks, cuttingtracks through the grime and mascara.

Ella shot Luca a sideways glance, eyebrowsclimbing towards her hairline. This wasn't the reaction she'd been banking on.Most folks went through the stages like clockwork - denial, anger, bargaining,the whole shebang. But had skipped right to the bitter end, like she’d had the‘I told you so’ locked and loaded for years.

‘Mind if we take this inside?’ Ella jerkedher chin towards the gaping doorway. ‘With your help, we might be able to findwho hurt your sister.’

Marcy sniffled, swiping at her nose withthe back of her hand. ‘Yeah, sure. Come on in. Not like I got anything betterto do now that my sister's gone and gotten herself killed.’

She spun on her heel and stalked into thehouse, leaving Ella and Luca to trail after her like a couple of lost puppies.The place was a dump, a hoarder's wet dream. Piles of junk teetered in everycorner, threatening to avalanche at the slightest breeze. Marcy collapsed ontoa threadbare armchair while Ella perched on the edge of the couch. Luca optedto stand.

‘Can you tell us about Georgia? Life,routine, friends. That kind of thing.’

Marcy shielded her face with her forearmwhile a few sobs leaked out. Any second now, the reality of losing her sisterwould set in, and her anger would turn to distress. Ella hoped it would, atleast, because she'd never seen a bereaved family member jump right tovictim-blaming before. Every day was a school day in law enforcement.

‘I need the details first. What happenedto my sister?’

Ella leaned forward, elbows on her knees.She'd been dreading this part, the moment where she had to lay it all out ingory technicolor.

‘She was strangled, most likely lastnight. A passerby found her this morning.’

‘That’s it?’

‘Whoever killed her also staged her.’

Marcy looked at Ella like she was speakinga dead language. ‘Staged? What the fuck are you talking about?’

‘Posed,’ Luca interjected. ‘The perpplaced Georgia in medieval stocks.’

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