Page 63 of Girl, Reformed

Ella exited the greenroom with Luca intow. They stepped beyond the curtain, out into the club and made their waythrough the masses.

They were out into the night, where theonly eyes on them were the stars.

Ella sucked in a lungful, let it out slow.Watched her breath fog and dissipate.

‘What’s the plan?’ Luca asked.

Images flashed through Ella's brain infiendish kaleidoscope - the victims, alive, running those fool mouths. Wordsweapons, fists without fingers. Then dead, trussed up and displayed. Weaknessesbared, soft bits spiked for all to scoff at.

But if what Leatherworth said was true,then Harry Shepherd was an anomaly.

‘All of our victims pissed our unsub off.That means there’s a connection. Somewhere. He wouldn’t opt for humiliation ifthere wasn’t a personal reason for it.’

‘Then that’s what we need to find,’ Lucafinished.

‘Come on, back to the office. We’re goingto unravel this – even if it takes all night.’

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

Mia Ripley stared at the storage complexthrough the windshield.

1456Industrial Park Road. The location of Martin’s storage unit, at least accordingto the files he’d tried to torch.

This was it. The moment of truth. Thecrossroads where the fog of delusion lifted and the cold, hard reality camecrashing in. Part of her wanted to run, to peel out of this place and neverlook back. Pretend she'd never seen those files, never smelled the smoke fromMartin's burning life.

But she couldn't. The doubts had burroweddeep, and now they gnawed at her guts like starving rats. She had to know. Hadto see with her own eyes the truth of the man she'd given her heart to.

Even if it destroyed her.

Mia regarded the rows of uniform units anddrew breath after breath. She held the steering wheel tight. Stalling. She wasdelaying the inevitable, and she damn well knew it. Like a fool, a coward.

Get it together, woman, a voice hissed inher head. You’ve faced down the worst America has to offer, and you’rescared to walk into a storage unit?

No. God no. She was the scourge ofscumbags, and what was another scumbag to the pile? Even if that scumbag wassomeone she’d foolishly shared a bed with. No man, no matter how deep under herskin, was gonna make her tuck tail and run.

She wrenched the key from the ignition andrelished the pain of the metal biting into her palm. She used it to centerherself, to uncoil the diamond-hard knot of rage that had seen her through athousand worst storms.

Nothing was going to hold her back fromfacing the truth in all its ugly glory.

Ripley hauled herself out of the car andstrode towards unit number eleven. It was a plain white garage door, nothingshe hadn’t seen before. The padlock hanging off the clasp leered at her like aone-eyed whore.

For a moment, she just stood there.Staring at that hunk of rust and spite like it held the secrets to theuniverse. It was time to rip off the Band-Aid and let the poison drain.

Ripley fished her keyring out of herpocket and navigated to the slim piece of metal nestled between her car andfront door keys. The little nugget had been a gift from Ella once upon a time.Ella, the lock and key expert, the woman that could best a padlock or deadboltor mortice lock without blinking. If Ella was by her side, they’d have breachedthis door an hour ago and left no sign of any intrusion. If Ripley’s memory wason point, Ella told her to only use this device when it was shit-hits-the-fan-o’clock.

Well, the hour was nigh. The bells weretolling, and the piper was coming to collect his due.

As she inserted the piece of metal intothe padlock, Ripley couldn’t help but think of the rookie and hope she wassurviving somewhere out there. She worked the pick in a circular motion, hardlythe deft touch of a safecracker. A twist, a click, and the shackle popped free.

The door yawned open on squealing hinges,a gaping maw hungry for her hopes, her dreams, the tattered remnants of herhappily ever after.

Lastchance to walk away,that small, craven voice whimpered. To go back to the lie, to the prettyfiction you've wrapped around yourself like a security blanket.

But Ripley had never been one for softlandings and easy comforts. She was a creature of hard edges and brutal truths,of festering wounds lanced and cauterized. She didn't flinch from ugliness -she grabbed it by the throat and made it look her in the eye.

She stepped over the threshold and let thedarkness swallow her. The door swung shut at her back with a clang like adungeon gate.

For a long moment, she just stood there.Breathing in the musty air, the cloying tang of secrets left to molder. Lettingher eyes adjust to the murk, picking out shapes in the gloom.

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