Page 5 of Girl, Haunted

‘And you caught him mid-attack?’

‘Yes. He was already inside when I got in there,’ she continued, her voice sounding far away to her own ears. ‘I went to investigate. And that's when I found him. Austin Creed. He was in one of the bedrooms, a piece of lumber in his hands. Just like Bundy used. I intercepted him, took him down, and waited for backup to arrive.'

Creed was grinning now, that same mad rictus she'd seen in the moment before he'd swung at her head. Ella had relived this fight a thousand times, but only now was she speaking of it aloud for the first time.

‘So, in your opinion, what does this say about Austin Creed's psychological state?’

This was the killing blow. She had to get this right.

‘Mr. Creed was in full control of his actions throughout his killing spree. These murders were not the result of psychosisor a break from reality. They were meticulously planned and executed with clear intent and purpose. Mr. Creed is not insane, at least not in any legal sense of the word. He is of sound mind and was fully aware of the nature and consequences of his actions. He knows the difference between right and wrong. What we're dealing with here is a classic case of malignant narcissism combined with an intense desire for notoriety. Mr. Creed craved fame, infamy – any kind of recognition. When he couldn't achieve it through conventional means, he turned to the alternative.’

Ella's gaze locked onto Creed once more. His smile had faded, replaced by a look of intense focus. Ella wanted him to rot in a cell, but she couldn’t help but think that she might have just landed him a date with the needle.

‘Your honor,’ Dawson said, ‘Mr. Creed made conscious choices at every step. He selected his victims carefully. He studied the methods of past killers to recreate their crimes. He took precautions to avoid detection. This is not the work of a mind removed from reality, despite what he claims.’

The judge turned his attention back to Ella. ‘Thank you, Miss Dark. Any final words before we break for final deliberation?’

Ella hesitated for a moment. She hadn't planned on saying anything more, on giving this monster any more of her time or energy. But something stirred in her; a need to drive the point home, and maybe, deliver the closest thing to poetic justice possible.

‘Mr. Creed.’ She locked eyes with the defendant. ‘You have a mind for details, a talent for planning, and the patience to see things through. In another life, you could have been a success, but you went another way, partner.’

It might not have meant much to everyone else in the room, but Austin Creed clearly understood the reference. His face contorted, his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists, but heremained still. For a brief moment, Ella saw the monster she'd confronted that night in the women's shelter.

The judge’s gavel broke the silence. Ella left the witness box. She’d done her job, and now it was up to the jury to decide Creed’s fate.

CHAPTER TWO

Ninety minutes of deliberation later, Ella Dark was back in the courtroom, back beside the twitching blonde woman who was clearly still hungry for a last-minute twist. Ella shifted, trying to coax some life back into her dead limbs. Every time she sat longer than a few minutes, her backside went numb thanks to the sadist who’d designed the chairs in this place.

Up ahead, the jury shuffled in, faces as blank as fresh paper. Everyone took their seats, then Judge Hawthorn dropped his gavel.

‘Welcome back. Final deliberations have concluded. Has the jury reached a verdict?’

The foreman stood up. A balding man who looked like he’d rather be in a dentist’s waiting room. ‘Yes, Your Honor.’ He made his way up to the judge’s booth and handed him the paper.

Judge Hawthorn adjusted his glasses and read aloud.

‘On the charge of first-degree murder in the death of Julia Reynolds, we find the defendant, Austin Creed – guilty.’

A collective exhale; the room deflated like a punctured balloon. Ella didn't move a muscle. One down, who knew how many more charges to go?

‘On the charge of first-degree murder in the death of Winnie Barker, we find the defendant - guilty.’

Creed didn't so much as twitch. The scumbag probably thought this was his grand finale.

Judge Hawthorn continued, ‘On the charge of first-degree murder in the death of Christine Hartwell, we find the defendant – guilty.’

With each ‘guilty,’ the judge’s voice grew that little bit stronger. Like he was getting used to the taste of justice on his tongue. Ella wondered if the people in this room knew theweight of those words, how they'd echo through the lives of the victims' families for years to come. How they'd haunt Creed in his six-by-eight concrete box until the day he died.

‘On the charge of first-degree murder in the death of Marcus Davenport, we find the defendant – guilty.’

Four for four. There weren’t as many cheers in the courtroom as Ella expected. All she could hear was the woman beside her, sobbing.

‘On the charge of aggravated assault on a federal agent, we find the defendant – guilty.’

That last one was personal. Ella absently rubbed her shoulder, feeling the raised scar tissue hidden beneath her blazer. A souvenir from her dance with the devil.

‘Mr. Creed, please rise for sentencing,’ the judge said.

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