Page 58 of Girl, Reborn

‘So three minutes away. How far from theprecinct?’

‘Two miles. Why? Who is this Riley Sawyerperson?’

‘Meet me there. I’ll fill you in when weget there.’

‘On it,’ Luca said. ‘See you in five.’

‘Gear up. We might be about to come faceto face with our water-happy friend. And something tells me they're not goingto come quietly.’

Ella ended the call, tossing the phoneaside as she focused on the road ahead. Hangman’s Hill was on the horizon. Theperfect place for a killer to hole up, she thought. Isolated, defensible, witha name that'd make even the bravest meter reader think twice about knocking.

She’d had about enough of this dried-uptown. It was time to bring this case home.

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

The road dead-ended at a dilapidatedcottage that looked like it'd been shat out the back end of the sixties. Moldfurred the clapboards; the roof sagged like a hammock for elephants. A singlesputtering bulb illuminated the porch, moth-swarmed and flickering.

Ella nosed the car into a weed-choked rutand killed the engine. Crickets buzzed; something hooted mournfully in thetrees. The air smelled green and fecund, thick enough to choke on.

Luca pulled up a heartbeat later. Ellachecked her Glock, jumped out of the car then summoned Luca behind a bush.

‘Hawkins,’ she whispered. ‘Riley Sawyer isthe person who made the water clock in town. That’s our killer’s signature.He’s drowning his vics inside a much larger version.’

‘That’s a reach, Ella. How do you know? Hemight just be drowning them in a bath.’

‘Because it connects too well. And RileySawyer – the man in that house – made that little water clock in town. If hemade one, he could make another.’

‘You sure about this? Maybe we should callfor backup, get Tucker's boys in on this party.’

‘No. More people means more attention. Wecan’t give Riley the chance to split.’

Luca conceded the point with a nod. Hechecked his piece with quick movement. ‘Alright then, lead the way.’

They slunk towards the shack at the end ofthe lane like cats on the prowl. Ella was fueled by an IV drip of pureadrenaline. The night pressed in close, hot and heavy as a lover's breath. Shelicked salt from her upper lip and tried to slow her thundering pulse. No dice.This was the part that got her blood singing. The wire-walk between justice andmayhem.

As they neared, something tickled Ella'sbrain. She hissed at Luca. ‘Hawkins, you get a snap of this Riley Sawyercharacter? Anything from the archives to give us a heads up on what we'rewalking into here?’

Luca shook his head. ‘Nada. No priors, nomug shot, not even a driver's license on file. Our mystery man's a freakin'ghost.’

‘Fabulous.’ Ella checked her watch andswore under her breath. Nearly 11PM. Their unsub, if he stuck to pattern, wouldbe picking his next target within the hour. Another lamb for the slaughter,tethered by concrete shoes at the bottom of that infernal clock.

No way was she letting that happen. Not onher watch.

‘Doesn't matter,’ she muttered. ‘I know aserial killer when I see one. And I got a feeling our psycho pal's right behindthat door.’

They crept up the sagging porch steps,avoiding the rotted boards that looked like they'd give up the ghost under astiff breeze. The shack was little more than a lean-to, really, slappedtogether from bits of tin and prayers. One strong huff and a puff would blow itover. But Ella knew better than to judge a book by its dilapidated cover. Someof the worst monsters wore the most unassuming meat suits.

She exchanged a glance and a nod withLuca. He took up position on the other side of the door, hand hovering over hisholster. Ella sucked in a breath, released it slow. Her fingers flexed once,twice, a tell she'd never quite shaken. Beneath the cool mask of professionaldetachment, a dark thrill shivered up her spine. This was her drug of choice –the acrid tang of fear-sweat on another predator's trail.

She raised her fist and pounded on thedoor.

Silence. Then, the unmistakable snick of alock turning. Ella's muscles tensed, ready to spring into action. Luca's handdropped to his gun.

The door swung open with an agonizedcreak. Ella braced for impact, for a blur of movement as their unsub tried tomake a break for it.

What she got instead stopped her dead inher tracks.

On the threshold stood a stooped littleold lady. White-haired, rosy-cheeked, buried in a floral housecoat that lookedolder than sin. She peered up at them through thick spectacles with a politesmile creasing her face like a dry riverbed.

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