Page 59 of Girl, Reborn

Ella blinked. Shook her head as if toclear it. This had to be a joke. A mistake. A batty granny pulled to the partyby a cop's shaky scrawl. A mother, maybe. Hell, a sister. Anyone but the artistknown as Riley Sawyer.

She opened her mouth, but the words stuckin her craw like a wad of day-old gum. ‘Uh, hello. We're looking for RileySawyer?’

The old woman’s smile widened. Denturesflashed white as bleached bones. ‘Well, you found her, sugar. Riley Sawyer, inthe flesh. What can I do for you folks?’

No. No goddamned way. There had to be ahidden camera somewhere. A gaggle of deputies snickering in the bushes. CandidCamera on crack.

But as Ella stared into those watery blueeyes, she saw nothing but earnest helpfulness. This wasn't some twisted joke.This was real. This sweet, doddering old thing was their mastermind, theirHieronymus Bosch with a hard-on for hydrology?

It didn't compute. Ella's gut sank like amobster's stool pigeon, her case collapsing like a sandcastle at high tide. Noway was Grandma Moses here was muscling grown men into concrete and throwingthem down a giant water torture device. The sheer logistics boggled the mind.

She caught Luca's eye and shook her headimperceptibly. He looked as poleaxed as she felt, but covered it with his usualaw-shucks grin. Kid was quick; had to give him that.

Ella cleared her throat. ‘Ah, yes, Ms.Sawyer. I'm Special Agent Dark. This is my partner, Agent Hawkins. I understandyou, ah, designed the town's water clock?’

The old dame's face crinkled in ageriatric approximation of delight. ‘Sure did, sweetie. My finest work, if I dosay so myself. An artiste's gotta leave her mark, you know? A little somethingfor the town to remember ol' Riley by.’

Luca stepped forward, using every inch ofthat leading-man charm. ‘Ms. Sawyer, would you mind if we stepped inside? Wejust have a few questions about this marvelous clock of yours.’

Riley all but glowed. ‘Why of course,honey! Come right on in. I know it’s late, but I'll put on a pot of coffee.It's so rare I get visitors, 'specially such handsome ones.’

Every nerve of Ella’s howled that this wasa dead end. A waste of time she didn’t have. But what was the alternative?There were no other leads to chase, and if Ms. Daisy here wasn't their unsub,she might know something about the water clock that could lead Ella to the realkiller.

So against every cop instinct screaming inher skull, Ella followed Riley and Luca into the musty gloom.

Tick tock. The countdown churned on. Andsomewhere out there, a real monster was trolling for fresh meat to feed hismachine.

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

Ella stood on the threshold of RileySawyer's living room, trying not to breathe too deeply. The place was a timecapsule, a snapshot of a bygone era preserved in amber and cat hair. Doilies onevery surface, chintz curtains gone yellow with age, and the funk of Ben-Gayand Metamucil thick as a winter coat.

But she didn't have time to dwell on thedecor, or the way the floral upholstery seemed to reach for her like grabbyhands. Not with a killer on the loose and the clock ticking down to the nextsplash party.

‘Coffee, dears?’ Riley chirped.Apparently, small-town hospitality even extended to law enforcement showing upat nearly midnight.

‘We’d love some,’ Ella lied. The minuteswere counting down, but she’d choke down coffee if it got her the answers sheneeded. Every second they delayed, their unsub was that much closer to tying upthe next John Q. Public for a long walk off a short pier.

Luca shot her a look, one eyebrow raised.She could practically hear him thinking it: Is this really the time for atea party? But he held his tongue, ever the good soldier. She just hopedhe was ready to move when the time came.

Riley tottered into the room, a tray ofmismatched mugs clutched in her gnarled hands. She set them down on the coffeetable with a clatter, amber liquid slopping over the rims.

Mighty kind of you, Riley. This is justwhat we needed. But I'm afraid we don't have long. Clock's ticking, and wecould really use your help.’

‘Of course, dear.’ Riley eased back into arecliner that wheezed like a two-pack-a-day smoker. Guileless as a lamb in aworld full of wolves. ‘Anything for our boys in blue. Or lady, as it were.’

Ella leaned forward, resting her elbows onher knees. She aimed for gentle urgency, projecting earnest need like alighthouse beam. ‘That water clock of yours, the one in the town square? It's areal marvel. A work of art. Must've been a hell of an undertaking.’

‘Oh yes. My pièce de résistance, that oldthing.’

‘You built that thing all on your own?’Ella pressed. Whoever their unsub was, he knew how to build a water clock.Riley might not be their killer, but maybe there was another clock-builder intown.

Riley's eyes twinkled with sly mirth. ‘Ha.Built it? I didn’t build anything.’

Ella and Luca exchanged a look. ‘Youdidn’t?’

‘No, no. I can barely put shelves up. Ijust designed her, planned out every cog and wheel, but the actual building,well...’

‘You had some help,’ Luca supplied, smoothas Kentucky bourbon over ice. He flashed those pearly whites, a gleam to makethe silver screen stars of old green with envy. ‘No shame in that. A visionaryneeds a good pair of hands to bring their dreams to life.’

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