Page 45 of Girl, Reformed

The footsteps grew louder, closer, untilthey became all-consuming. His fingers flexed, curling into claws, aching toclose around the soft, unsuspecting throat of his target. Just a few moresteps, a few more seconds, and it would be time. Time to pounce, to claim hisprize and begin the glorious work of the night.

He could see the man now, a shamblingsilhouette backlit by the sallow glow of the street lamps. Could smell the reekof booze and sweat and cheap cologne that wafted from him like a miasma. Soclose he could almost taste the copper tang of blood on his tongue.

The man took another step, then another,crossing some invisible threshold, passing the point of no return.

And he struck, finding the man’s throatwith unerring precision. Cord wrapped around flesh, tightening, crushing,cutting off air and sound and hope. The man bucked, thrashed, his flailinglimbs battering uselessly against his attacker’s iron embrace. But it wasfutile, a fly caught in the web, a lamb bleating its last before the wolf'sfangs found its throat.

They crashed to the ground together,predator and prey, locked in a fatal tango as old as time itself. The man'sstruggles grew weaker, more desperate, eyes bulging in their sockets as lifedrained from his body. He rode him down, straddling his chest, bearing downwith all his weight and strength until he felt the final, shuddering spasm, thelast futile gargle of breath.

And then it was done.

The first part is complete.

This was what he was made for, what he hadbeen born to do. Not to amuse, but to destroy. The world demanded apunchline, and tonight, they'd get it.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Ella stood in the precinct hallway besideLuca, both eyeballing the creep behind the one-way glass. Aleister Morgan,trussed up in chains, twitching like a bug under a magnifying glass. She'd seensome real prizes in her day, but this joker took the cake. Greasy hair hangingin his eyes, skin like a slab of spoiled cheese. A real looker.

Chief Harland sidled up beside her, thumbshooked in his belt loops. ‘So how'd you bag this freak, anyway?’

Ella smirked. ‘Aleister might've wantedkids one day, but Hawkins here disagreed.’

Luca ducked his head, but there was nohiding the grin tugging at his pretty boy mouth. Harland's bushy brows shot upto his nonexistent hairline. 'The hell you talkin' about?'

But Ella waved him off. A little insidejoke never hurt anyone. Luca shuffled his feet, hands shoved deep in hispockets. ‘Still think this is our guy?’ he asked.

Ella rolled her shoulders, vertebraepopping. It was impossible to say at this point. On paper, Aleister was ashoo-in. The basement chock-full of torture porn props, the meth lab straightout of

a tweaker's wet dream.

‘Could be,’ Ella mused. ‘Between the kinkydecor and the Breaking Bad routine, he's not exactly squeaky clean.’

‘Plus he went straight for your neck,’Luca added. ‘Same way he killed the victims.’

Harland grunted. ‘Sounds open and shut tome. We got means, motive, and a helluva opportunity, seeing as he's alreadymade our vic's snuff props. Lock this creep up and call it a day, as far as I'mconcerned.'

But Ella couldn't quite shake the nigglingfeeling in her gut. That little voice whispering in the back of her head,telling her to look closer, dig deeper. She narrowed her eyes at Aleister,studying the expressionless mask that passed as a face. A real cool customer,this one. Too cool. Like he was putting on a show, waiting for the curtain todrop on the big reveal.

And that's when it hit her. The ghost ofRipley's voice, echoing in her skull like a bad hangover. You're seeingwhat you want to see, Dark, it scolded. Gotta peel back the crap andstare reality right in its ugly mug.

Damn that woman and heralbeit-hallucinatory wisdom. But as much as Ella hated to admit it, Ripley hada point. She couldn't just check the boxes and call it a day. Not when theystill had a body count to rack up if they screwed the pooch on this.

She turned to Luca, sizing him up out ofthe corner of her eye. The kid looked jittery as hell, bouncing on the balls ofhis feet like a kid who needed to pee but couldn’t peel himself away from thepark. She couldn't really blame him. Interrogations always turned your guts toice, especially when it was your first time.

‘Alright, Hawkins.’ Ella jerked her chinat the door. ‘We're gonna go in there and squeeze this guy ‘til he pops. Youready?’

Luca blanched, the blood draining from hispretty mug faster than booze from a wino's bottle. 'Me? I was thinking I'd justobserve. Get a feel for it.'

Ella snorted. Like hell, that wouldhappen. 'No chance. You're up to bat on this one. Aleister's seen you inaction. Felt it, too, judging by the way he was cradling his balls. He'll smellthe fear on you, try to make you his prison bitch. You gotta establishdominance. And nothing says bad cop like reminding a guy you rang his bell.'

Harland grunted his agreement, craggy facesplit by a grin as ugly and wide as a pothole. 'Girl's got a point, son. Ain'tno better way to get a perp singin' than flipping the script.’

Luca swallowed audibly. He looked fromElla to Harland and back again, resignation settling over his face like ashroud. Alright, you win. Let's do this.'

Damn straight. Ella cuffed him on theshoulder, just enough oomph to smart a little. Better to give him somethingelse to focus on than the churning in his own guts. She strode over to theinterrogation room door and pushed it open. Playtime was over. Now, it was timeto see what dear old Aleister was really made of.

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