Page 87 of Girl, Sought

The cavalry, late as ever but more welcome than she'd ever admit.

Game over.

CHAPTER FORTY FOUR

Ella perched on the back of an ambulance while fireworks exploded behind her eyes. It had taken her a handful of pills and about two gallons of water to really process the events of the past hour, and the medic had rattled off words likeconcussionandsuperficial lacerations, which Ella translated to: the kind of injuries that meant you'd live to fight another day but might not remember exactly how you got your ass kicked.

Typical. Years of training, profiling and memorizing every detail about the most dangerous people on earth – and she still let a tax accountant smash her over the head with a glass jar. She still didn’t know exactly what specimen had been in that thing, and that was one mystery she was happy to live with.

She watched the crime scene machine work its magic. Cruisers painted St. Andrews Museum in shades of red and blue. Officers had battered down the door for easy access. Forensic technicians came and went. She hadn’t seen the remains of Lawrence Winters since backup had arrived, but the lack of a coroner’s van suggested he was still breathing.

Luca materialized from the rabble and ambled over to her. He barely had a hair strand out of place, meanwhile she looked like she’d gone ten rounds with a woodchipper.

Her partner must have caught her train of thought, because he said, ‘Jesus, Ell, you look like crap.’

‘You know how to sweet talk a girl.’

‘It’s one of my specialties.’

‘What are your others?’

Luca lowered himself to the bumper beside her with a muted groan.‘Dunno. A profound lack of self-awareness. How’s your skull?’

‘Still attached. How’s yours?’

Luca flopped his hand at the wrist. ‘Skull is fine, but I think I broke a nail punching that asshole.’

‘You need a Band-Aid?’

‘Maybe. Think I broke some knuckles too, but I’ll live. You alright to travel?’

‘Planes are a no-go, but they have no issue with you driving me home.’ Ella put a hand on his knee and squeezed. ‘Thanks for saving my ass. Again.’

‘I didn’t have a choice. This was my case, remember?’

‘How’d you get here?’

‘I paid a couple of junkies to watch Winters’ apartment until the cops got there. Then I drove here. Really fast. I got in through that open window up there.’

The words she wanted to say crowded up her throat.Gratitude felt inadequate ballast against the weight of what she owed him. What she'd always owe him, for staying. For fighting. For refusing to let her walk into the dark alone.

But Ella Dark found herself at a loss. She was adrift in the gulf between what she felt and what she could articulate.

So she did the only thing she could. Leaned into him, let her temple rest against the sturdy jut of his shoulder. Luca put his arm around her and held her close.

‘If this is the last case we work together, I think we did pretty good.’

‘Agreed.’

‘Well, you did pretty good,’ she admitted.

A shadow fell across them. Ella cracked an eye to see Reeves standing a few feet away, bathed in strobing red and blue. He sketched a little wave.

‘Well, if it ain’t Starsky and Hutch. Thought you two would be headed home by now.’

Luca grunted something that might have been a greeting or a curse. Ella jabbed an elbow into his ribs, more reflex than intent, and levered herself to something approximating vertical.

‘And leave without saying goodbye?’

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