Page 33 of Girl, Reformed

Christ, was this really what it had cometo? Ripping her own life apart, chasing shadows and gut feelings like a dogafter its own tail? When had the lines gotten so blurred?

Suddenly, the shrill of her cell phonemade Ripley jump halfway out of her skin. She fumbled for it one-handed.

The display flashed. Jacobs, from the techpit. Maybe with an update on the plate she'd asked him to track. The onebelonging to Martin's car.

‘Ripley,’ she bit out.

‘Hey, it's Jacobs.’ The kid's voice was anotch too high, tight with excitement or nerves. Maybe both. ‘That licenseplate you wanted eyes on? We got a hit.’

Ripley's blood fizzed in her veins.‘Where?’

‘Empty lot, ass-end of town. Tucked behindsome condemned warehouses.’ A crinkling sound, like he was consulting a map.‘3400 block of Oakwood.’

She could picture it - weed-choked,scattered with broken glass and junkie trash. The kind of place you went todump a body or cook up a batch of meth. Anonymous. Isolated.

‘Jacobs, I could kiss you. Tell Edis I'm-’

‘There's something else,’ the tech cut in.He swallowed audibly, like the words were sticking in his craw. ‘The car...it's on fire. Caller reported an explosion, then flames a couple minutes ago.’

Cold flooded Ripley's gut. The bottomdropped out of her stomach like she'd crested the peak of a rollercoaster.

‘Say again?’

‘It’s on fire. Fire department are on thescene right now.’

Ripley let the phone fall from her numbfingers. The road ahead blurred, hot and hazy.

So this was it. The moment of truth. Theuniverse calling her bluff, shoving her chips to the center of the table.

She mashed the gas, tires shrieking,chewing up asphalt. The car leaped forward like a horse stung by a whip.

Oakwood. 3400 block. Towards the flamesand whatever waited on the other side.

Ripley just prayed she was ready for it.Ready to face whatever hard, ugly truths rose out of those ashes.

Because one way or the other - there'd beno more running from this.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Ella shook the numbness out of herbones. Theprecinct's chairs were built for perps, not posterity. Hard plastic andsplintery wood, a chiropractor's wet dream. In front of her, the victims’records were spread out like a buffet. Bank statements, phone records, socialmedia records. Everything they could dig up without the assistance of ablack-hat hacker.

Beside her, Luca was doing his bestimpression of a statue - chiseled jaw, furrowed brow, the wholetall-dark-and-pensive schtick. She had to concede that this rookie was alright,even if his peach fuzz made her feel like a cradle robber.

He jabbed a finger at the stack of papers,breaking her out of her daze. 'Both of our victims had a real talent forpissing people off. We know that much.'

Ella grunted. He wasn't wrong. ArchieNewman and Georgia Bolton - poster kids for winning friends and alienatingpeople, according to their records. Loudmouths with more enemies than a corruptpolitician, given how many passive-aggressive posts they’d plastered on socialmedia.

‘Could be something there,’ Ella said.‘Coincidences are fairy tales in this line of work.’

Luca nodded, all earnest eagerness. Thekid was like a puppy begging for a treat. 'Where do we start? Matching up knownassociates, cross-referencing social circles?'

Ella reached for Georgia's file. Girl'slife was spread across a half-dozen social media platforms; a digital tapestryof bad decisions and worse taste in men.

‘Bolton's online footprint is a minefield.Let's start there, see if any of her virtual pals overlap with Newman's.’

They dug in, sorting through a labyrinthof likes, shares, and subtweets. The minutes swept by, the bullpen's buzzingfluorescents marking time like some kinda sadistic sundial. But even as hereyes strained and her brain went static, Ella's thoughts kept circling back toRipley. Her partner, her yin to her yang. Off chasing ghosts and gut feelings,probably drowning in a bottle all the while.

Ella's fingers itched for her cell. Onecall, just to check in. Make sure Ripley hadn't swallowed her Glock or donesomething equally stupid in the name of love.

---