Page 25 of Girl, Haunted

Luca said, ‘Yeah, thank God for one genocidal maniac giving us a breather from a homicidal one.’

But even with the haunted houses closed, she couldn't shake the nagging feeling that their unsub might still find a way to strike.

'Good news, but let's not let our guard down. Shadowland wasn't open either, and he still found a way in.'

‘I’ll have my guys do the rounds,’ Redmond said. ‘The Yamhill Grand Lodge is about three miles out. I assume that’s where you’re staying.’

Luca fidgeted in his bag and then pulled out a sheet of paper. ‘We’re booked in the… Yamhill Value Inn.’

Redmond's face traveled through a kaleidoscope of expressions, settling somewhere between horror and amusement. ‘Oh boy. Someone at your HQ doesn’t like you.’

‘What’s wrong with the Yamhill Value Inn?’

‘You might be better off sleeping right here. At least the only thing that’ll crawl on you is the paperwork.’

Ella, silently mourning the loss of a potentially decent night’s sleep, shrugged it off. ‘I’ll sleep on a cactus if I have to. Come on Hawkins, the sooner we sleep, the sooner we can get back here.’

***

The Yamhill Value Inn lived up to its name in all the wrong ways. It made Ella question the meaning of the word ‘value,’ and as she fumbled with the key – an actual metal key, not even a keycard – she couldn't help but wonder if this place was where roaches went for their vacation.

But as Ella stepped into the cramped, dingy room that would be her home for the foreseeable future, none of the downsides mattered because she had Luca by her side.

‘Home sweet home,’ Luca deadpanned. ‘Pretty funny that they gave us two separate rooms.’

‘News of our torrid affair hasn’t reached the admin department,’ she said.

‘To be fair, it’s a tricky conversation. What are they supposed to do? Ask us if we’re on co-sleeping terms?’

Ella threw her bag down and inspected the place. Water-stained ceiling. Ancient TV bolted to the wall. Questionable stains on the carpet. Not quite the Ritz, but a bed was a bed. ‘I’ve had worse. The room, I mean.’

Luca sat on the bed to the sound of flesh-on-wood. He bounced experimentally, then jumped back up and rubbed his backside. 'Padding is minimal. This is going to be a bumpy ride.'

‘You want me to take the other room? Leave you to wrestle the mattress in peace?’

‘Not really. Do you?’

She slithered beside him, put one hand on his knee and said, ‘No. I’d rather have your sweaty back next to me all night.’

‘You say the sweetest things.’ Luca reached for the TV remote and passed it to her. ‘Here. He who holds the remote is king.’

‘Thank you. Go and get acquainted with the bed.’ Ella flipped through a wasteland of infomercials and late-night televangelist ravings before landing on the news. Her finger froze on the remote as a familiar face filled the screen.

Austin Creed stared at her. The Mimicker. Her first big collar.

He shuffled along in his orange jumpsuit, hands cuffed, face blank as morning snow. Like he was taking a Sunday stroll, not a perp walk.

The news anchor's voice droned on. ‘Sentenced to death by lethal injection for the death of four women… dubbed the Mimicker by the media…. Terrorized Louisiana before being brought to justice by the FBI’s Behavioral team.’

Behind her, Luca let out a groan that could’ve woken the dead. Or maybe it was just the bedsprings.

‘Problem here, Ell. Something is digging into my kidney.’

Ella didn't take her eyes off the screen. Creed was being led through a gauntlet of reporters, microphones and cameras shoved in his face like he was some kind of twisted celebrity. She half expected him to start signing autographs.

‘Earth to Ella,’ Luca said. ‘You might want to turn that crap off.’

Ella's finger hovered over the power button, but she couldn't bring herself to push it. It felt like admitting defeat, like letting Creed have the last laugh.

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