Page 36 of Girl, Unseen

She scanned for another way up. The barn's support beams crisscrossed overhead like a jungle gym from hell. Ella spotted a ladder bolted to a support beam.

‘If you don’t come down, I’m coming up.’

Felix's answer came in the form of another hay bale missile. Ella picked her moment then sprinted for the ladder. Up she went, ignoring the protests from her legs. The burns wouldn't thank her tomorrow, but that was tomorrow's problem. At the top, she hauled herself onto a beam as Felix disappeared through the hayloft door.

Height gave her a new perspective. The barn's upper level formed a twisted maze of wood and steel. More catwalks connected to the grain silos next door. Rusted machinery hung from chains like medieval torture devices. Felix threaded through it all with the ease of practice until he reached a junction where three walkways met. He turned left, but Ella had already read his moves. She cut across a parallel beam and dropped onto his catwalk. The whole thing swayed. Thirty feet of empty air waited below. One bad step, and she'd make headlines as the FBI agent who died fighting gravity.

Felix glanced over his shoulder and saw his chance. He spun and charged straight at her.

‘Son of a–,’

His shoulder caught her in the ribs. Pain exploded through her chest. She staggered but grabbed his hoodie. They grappled on the narrow walkway, and the whole structure swayed with each movement. Felix struck at her face, but Ella blocked it. She tried to spin him into an arm lock, but he slipped free. Her legs screamed as she shifted her weight. He aimed a kick at her knee. Ella twisted away, but the movement threw her off balance. Her back hit the guide rope. For one horrible second, she felt herself tilting into empty air.

Felix saw his opening. He lunged forward to finish the job. His fist sailed past her head close enough to ruffle hair. Amateur hour. Bureau training kicked in, and Ella caught his extended arm. But instead of following through, Felix twisted away and broke her grip.

Not so amateur after all.

Felix bounced on the balls of his feet – young and stupid and convinced of his own immortality. Two years of taking down killers had taught Ella better. She kept her stance low. Let him come to her.

He did. This time, he led with his left. A feint. His right hook followed, but Ella had seen that combination in a hundred gym fights. She blocked the hook and countered with a palm strike to his sternum. The impact knocked him back three steps.

‘That all you got?’ Blood ran from his nose onto his black shirt. ‘My sister hits harder.’

Sister? Ella filed that detail away for later. Felix came at her again. Raw energy versus experience. He had youth and reach but Ella had fought bigger men in smaller spaces. She slipped his punches and waited for her moment.

There. Felix overextended on a right cross. Ella drove her knee into his gut. The breath exploded from his lungs. She followed with an elbow to the base of his skull – not enough to kill but enough to ring his bell, maybe leave him with the kind of concussion that could coax out a few confessions later.

Felix staggered. The catwalk swayed. He tried for a desperate tackle, but his legs betrayed him. Ella sidestepped and grabbed his arm. All his momentum turned against him. Basic physics with a side of karma.

One quick twist. A shift of balance. Felix's feet left the catwalk. For a split second, he hung suspended between heaven and earth. Just long enough to realize how badly he'd screwed up.

Then gravity remembered its job.

Felix hit the hay bales shoulder-first. The impact knocked what little air remained from his lungs, and then he bounced once and tumbled to the muddy floor.

This time, there was no graceful recovery. Just a meatsack of bad decisions learning what regret felt like.

Ella watched him fall. Not her cleanest takedown but it got the job done. From this vantage point, she could see that Felix was still breathing, and that was all she needed. She'd pulled her strike at the last second, turned a bone-breaker into something that would just leave him hurting tomorrow.

The chain felt slick under her palms as she readied herself for the descent. Thirty feet up suddenly felt like three hundred. Her legs burned at the mere thought of landing, but there was no time for self-pity. Felix lay in a crumpled heap below, but even wounded animals could still bite.

She wrapped the chain around her forearm once, twice, and let her weight pull it taut. The descent sent jolts through her shoulders and legs, but there'd be time for respite once Felix Blackwood was in cuffs. Back at ground level, Felix had managed to push himself onto his hands and knees.

Now, she pulled out her gun and trained it on him. Clean shot. No chance of collateral damage.

‘Felix Blackwood, you’re under arrest.’

CHAPTER TWENTY

The squad car's rear window framed Felix Blackwood's face like a portrait of youthful rebellion gone wrong. His bloody nose had dried to a rust-colored smear, and his black clothes made him look like a crow someone had stuffed into a cage. He'd clammed up the second Ross had stuffed him into the back of the cruiser, only breaking his silence to hurl some choice obscenities about pigs and fascists.

Charming kid. Real mystery why he failed out of NYU.

Meanwhile, the old man - Felix's father - sat on a bale of hay looking like someone had just shot his dog.

‘How’s your legs?’ Luca asked.

After that chase through the barn, her legs felt like they'd been through a meat grinder, but there'd be time for self-pity later. ‘Still working. How about yours?’

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