Page 11 of Girl, Reborn

He'd have to plan it carefully. Cover histracks and leave no trace. But that was alright, because there was a part ofhim, small and tight and pulsing, that relished the challenge. The chance tomatch wits with a worthy adversary, to prove himself once and for all.

Mia would understand.

Ella Dark had to die.

CHAPTER SIX

Ella slouched in the airplane seat, casefiles scattered across the table like a macabre twist on airplane readingmaterial. The recycled air of the cabin stuck in her throat, stale as aweek-old donut. Luca sat across from her, legs folded up like a pretzel. He hadthe case file open on his lap, crime scene photos fanned out like some grislydeck of cards.

Then he glanced up and caught Ella anexpression that was half anticipation, half intestinal distress.

‘What’s up with your face?’ Ella asked.‘Peanut allergy?’

Luca glanced out of the window. There wasstill an airport on the other side.

‘I’m not what you’d call a frequentflyer.’

‘Don’t like it?’

‘I prefer my travels at sea level. Don’twe have a boat?’

‘We don’t even have a stationarycupboard.’ Luca was riding the wave of realization. The one where he discoveredthat the Bureau was less conspiracies and cover-ups and more expired coffeecreamer. It was an office just like any other, just an office whose nameeverybody knew.

‘Touché. Well, get ready. I might be areal diva for the next hour.’

Ella would be lying if she said she wasn’ta little charmed. It was such a contrast to the usual Bureau blowhards, soquick to posture and peacock. Luca had confidence where it mattered, but it wasleavened with an endearing dorkiness.

‘I can live with that.’ She stabbed thepaperwork in front of her. ‘But more importantly, we’ve got a dead politicianto avenge.’

‘That we do.’ Luca skipped through hisfolder, laid a few documents out on the table between him and Ella. ‘Not awhole lot to go on right now. No toxicology report. No official cause ofdeath.’

‘Let’s start with what we know. RickyToledo, rising star in the glamorous world of small-pond politics. Charismaticand ambitious judging by the few stories I read about him on the way here.’

‘Eyebrows you could slice your hand on.Quintessential golden boy.’

Ella pulled up a few pre-death photos ofRicky Toledo on her cell. ‘He certainly looks the part. Suit pressed within aninch of its life, smile that belongs on a car salesman. Just the right mix oftrustworthy and sleazy.’

Luca spun one of the crime scene photosaround. It was a close-up of Ricky’s lower half. ‘Look at the bottom of hisjeans. Ripped, scuffed. What’s the deal there, you think?’

‘Could be where the killer dragged himthrough the mud? He was found in the middle of a field. Given the lack ofblood, Ricky was killed elsewhere then dumped in that field.’

Luca’s gaze was far away, that keenlyhoned mind whirring behind his sculpted features. It was a look Ella had cometo know well over the past week – the hallmark of a Hawkins brainstorm, thethrill of theory taking hold.

It did something to her, that look.Something that she struggled to place and definitely shouldn't consider, giventheir professional arrangement. She banished it to the back of her brain forlater examination. Or never. Definitely never.

‘Well,’ Luca said slowly, drawing the wordout like taffy. ‘We can probably rule out accident. I don't care how dumb youare, you don't just stumble into a field by accident.’

‘Or stumble into a river and forget how toswim. We still need to figure out how Ricky ended up drenched.’

Then the plane began to rumble to life. Itrolled around to its take-off position while Luca death-gripped the armrestlike it was the only thing between him and oblivion.

Ella snorted, something almost likeamusement tugging at the corners of her mouth. ‘Get used to this part, Hawkins.Sometimes I imagine how astronauts feel when they’re going vertical. Must behell on the stomach.’

‘Don’t,’ Luca said.

Ella leaned around the table and kickedhim. ‘What’s wrong? You’re about twenty times more likely to die in a car crashthan a plane crash.’

‘That’s called empirical probability. Youdon’t ride a plane every day.’

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