Page 66 of Girl, Reborn

The scene spun out in sepia tones. Seth,broken and reeling, slinking home to lick his wounds, to curl up on a bedrapidly cooling with absence. Alone in this mildewed mausoleum, choking on rageand promising retribution on the bastards who'd stolen his light.

‘Uh, Ella?’ Luca said.

But Ella was lost. A shiver worked its waydown her spine as the pieces fell into place with the sound of tumblersdropping. What better place to kill the people who’d taken his sister?

‘Ell?’ Luca nudged again.

She whirled, hand halfway to her holsterbefore she registered his tone. Not fear, but grim excitement. ‘The farm,Hawkins. That’s where Baxter’s killing these victims.’

He held a scrap of paper aloft, pinchedbetween two fingers like a squirming rat. ‘Yeah. I know.’

‘Huh? What?’

‘Look.’

She was across the room in three strides,snatching the page from his grip. A battered invoice, speckled with coffeerings and smears of old grease. But the header was clear as the writing on thewall.

INVOICE.

RENOVATION WORKS: STARLIT MEADOW FARM

DESCRIPTION OF WORK: FARMHOUSE DOOR,BRICKED UP, MINOR REPAIRS.

PAYMENT: $1500, CASH ONLY

CONTRACTOR: JEREMIAH CLANCY.

Ella’s vision swam. Her heart clamberedfor freedom from her ribs as her world narrowed to that gritty scrap of paper.

‘It’s an invoice,’ Luca said. ‘That’s howhe got Clancy to the farm. That’s why we couldn’t pin down Clancy’s last whereabouts.Baxter hired him – then killed him.’

Ella checked the time.

11:40.

‘Twenty minutes.’

‘Enough time to finish this,’ Luca said.

They were gone, back through the house,pounding down the stairs. Ella didn't pause until she reached the car. Then,she was sliding behind the wheel with Luca in pursuit.

‘Get the address, Hawkins.’

‘Got it. It’s two miles from here.’

Tires suddenly chewed up the road and spatgravel. They peeled out in a shriek of rubber and burning oil, pointed towardsthe dying heart of Liberty Grove.

Towards Starlit Meadow Farm, to see thisunsub – and his monstrous death machine – in the flesh.

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

The car screamed around the final bend,and Starlit Meadow Farm rose from the shadows like a tumor. Ella could feel thetires skidding, fighting for purchase on the washboard ruts. But there wasn'ttime for caution, for the pussyfooting dance of protocol. Not with a lifehanging in the balance, sputtering out its final minutes while they burnedrubber.

Up ahead, a gate reared out of thedarkness. Chained and padlocked, a paltry ‘keep out’ to thwart off the sane andsensible.

Too bad Ella had torn up her membershipcard to that club about fifty dead bodies ago.

She was long past the point of halfmeasures. She didn't even tap the brakes, just gritted her teeth and bore downon the accelerator.

---