Page 42 of Girl, Reborn

‘Here, let me,’ Luca said gently, risingto help. Julie relinquished the USB stick with visible relief, sinking backinto her armchair as Luca deftly plugged it in.

‘I recorded this,’ Julie croaked. ‘Marcuswas going to be on the news. He was so excited. Wanted the girls to see theirdad on TV.’ A fresh wave of tears spilled down her cheeks.

The screen flickered to life, filling withthe crisp graphics of a local news channel. A perky anchor with teeth so whitethey probably glowed in the dark was mid-sentence: ‘...controversial damproject that's set to revitalize the region.’

The scene cut to Marcus Ayers, lookingalive and well in a hard hat and reflective vest. The sight of him, vibrant andanimated, was jarring after seeing his waterlogged corpse. Ella felt a twingein her chest, the same one she always got when confronted with the 'before' ofa victim. The reminder that this wasn't just a body, a case file, a problem tobe solved. This was a person with hopes and dreams and a future that had beenviolently ripped away.

Marcus was gesturing at some blueprints,spouting technical jargon that might as well have been Martian for all Ellaunderstood. Something about ‘hydroelectric potential’ and ‘sustainable watermanagement.’

Julie let out a choked sob. ‘He was sopassionate about it,’ she whispered. ‘Said it was going to change everything,make the whole region better.’

Ella frowned. ‘He really believed that?That it would help everyone?'

'Oh yes. Marcus was... an idealist. Hetruly thought this project would bring prosperity to the entire area, LibertyGrove included.'

If Marcus truly believed in the project'sbenefits, then either Toledo had lied to him about the plans, or something hadgone terribly awry in the execution.

But Ella nodded sympathetically, even asher mind raced. Passion could be a double-edged sword. For every personinspired by a project like this, there was usually someone else who saw it as athreat.

As if on cue, the report shifted. Theanchor's voice took on a more somber tone, the kind news readers used when theywere about to drop a ‘but’ the size of Everest.

‘But not everyone is thrilled about thedam's construction. Environmental groups and some local residents have raisedconcerns about the project's impact on the surrounding ecosystem andneighboring communities.’

The camera panned to a scruffy-looking manwith a beard that could house small wildlife. He was brandishing a sign thatread ‘DAMS = DEATH’ in jagged red letters that looked like they'd been paintedwith blood. His eyes blazed with the fervor of the truly committed, the kind oflook Ella had seen on the faces of zealots and true believers. It rarely ledanywhere good.

‘This dam is an ecological disasterwaiting to happen,’ the man ranted, spittle flying from his lips. ‘It'sgoing to destroy habitats, disrupt migration patterns, and for what? So somefat cats in Bristol can line their pockets? They're stealing our water, killingour land, all in the name of so-called progress. Well, I've got news for them –we won't stand for it.’

A chyron flashed across the bottom of thescreen: ‘Lawrence Holbrook, Environmental Activist.’

Ella's pulse quickened as adrenalineflooded her system. This guy had motive written all over him, big as abillboard and twice as loud. The passion in his voice, the fire in his eyes –it was the kind of conviction that could easily tip over into violence ifpushed too far.

The report continued, cutting back toMarcus, who dismissed the environmental concerns with practiced ease. 'We'veconducted extensive impact studies,’ he was saying. ‘The benefits to theregion far outweigh any potential drawbacks. This dam is going to bring jobs,clean energy, and economic growth to an area that desperately needs it.’

The contrast between Marcus's polishedcorporate speak and Holbrook's raw emotion was stark. Two men, two visions forthe future, clashing like tectonic plates. And somewhere in the collision,Marcus Ayers had ended up dead in a dry riverbed.

Ella turned back to Julie, who was staringat the screen with a mixture of grief and bewilderment. Fresh tears streameddown her face, but there was something else in her eyes now. A dawningrealization, perhaps, that her husband had been caught up in something biggerand more dangerous than she'd ever imagined.

‘Mrs. Ayers,’ Ella said gently. ‘DidMarcus ever mention this man? Lawrence Holbrook?’

Julie shook her head, her gaze still fixedon the now-frozen image of her dead husband. ‘No, I... I don't think so. Therewere protesters, sometimes. At public meetings, or outside his office. ButMarcus never seemed worried. He said it was just part of the job, that peoplealways resist change at first.’ She let out a bitter laugh. ‘Oh God, do youthink he...? Could that man have...?’

‘We don't know anything for certain,’ Lucajumped in. ‘But we're going to find out. I promise you, Mrs. Ayers, we'll getto the bottom of this.’

Ella nodded as she plotted their nextmove. Vernon Holbrook was a lead, and a damn good one. A vocal opponent of thedam, with a public platform and a clear grudge against the project'sleadership. It wasn't proof, but it was far more than they'd had an hour ago.

‘Thank you for showing us this, Mrs.Ayers.’ Ella stood, but instead of heading straight for the door, she movedtowards Julie and took her hand. ‘I know this is hell. I can't even imaginewhat you're going through right now. But I promise you, we're going to doeverything in our power to find out what happened to Marcus.’

Luca joined them, his usual jokey demeanorreplaced by genuine concern. ‘We're here for you, ma'am. Whatever you need, dayor night. Here's my card – call anytime, even if it's just to talk.’

‘We can arrange for a victim supportcounselor to come by,’ Ella offered. ‘Someone to help with the practical stuff,you know? And to be there for you and the girls.’

At the mention of her daughters, Julie'sface crumpled. ‘Oh God, how am I going to tell them? How do I explain thattheir daddy's never coming home?’

Ella squeezed her hand, wishing she hadbetter answers. ‘One step at a time, Julie. Let us help you through this.You're not alone.’

They stayed a few minutes longer, offeringwhat comfort they could. But the job was calling, and a potential suspect wasout there. As they finally made their way out, Ella felt the familiar shift –from compassionate human back to driven agent.

The suburban quiet hit them like a wall asthey stepped outside. Ella was on her phone before they'd even reached the car.

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