Page 9 of Girl, Accused

‘Mia… are you… back?’

‘Like hell am I back. I’m doing this then I’m going home.’ She looked her old partner up and down. ‘Jesus, Dark, you lost weight?’

Ella inspected her hips. ‘I don’t know. You’re looking pretty good, though.’

‘Yeah, well, getting away from this place will do that to you. Edis tells me you’ve found yourself in some trouble.’

'Apparently, I murdered my roommate and my landlord.' Ella shot Edis a look of steel. 'If you can believe it.'

‘I know. Edis has told me everything, and I’m here to throw you a life jacket.’

Relief reared its head, even though Ella shouldn’t need a former, now-retired partner to bail her out. But then relief accelerated towards dread, because if Ripley had something that could exonerate Ella, it suggested Ripley was on the periphery of this bizarre game too.

‘What do you have?’

Ripley’s laptop came to life. She clicked, opened up a folder and found an MP4 file. The screen filled with a grainy feed of a vast driveway. One that Ella had visited countless times. Edis appeared beside her.

Mia said, ‘This is outside my house two nights ago.’

Ella clocked the timestamp in the bottom corner. One AM, Monday night, rolling into Tuesday morning. There were rows of flowerbeds flanking either side of the driveway and two cars between them.

‘What exactly are we looking at?’ The question came out with a surplus of venom. Her brain felt waterlogged, struggling to process Ripley's sudden resurrection while simultaneously trying to focus on whatever horror show was about to unfold on screen.

‘Just wait.’ Ripley's shoulder brushed against hers. How many times had they stood like this, heads bent together over evidence, piecing together the fractured brains of killers? The familiarity of it made her want to scream or cry or put her fist through the nearest wall.

Movement on the screen. A figure emerged from the darkness, dressed in black. Average height, maybe five-five or five-six. They moved with an uncertain energy, like someone trying to convince themselves they belonged there. They weren’t the calculatedmovements of a practiced killer, but the hesitant steps of someone possibly learning to become one.

The figure lingered near Ripley's flower beds. Their posture was a mirror of Ella's own build. The slight forward tilt of the shoulders, that distinctive way of distributing weight on the balls of the feet rather than the heels. They were the kind of details only someone who'd studied her closely would know to replicate.

The figure stood there for what felt like forever, radiating indecision. Then they reached Ripley's door and paused on the threshold.

For a moment, Ella thought the figure might turn back and melt away into the night from whence it came. But then, with a jerky motion, it bent and placed something on the welcome mat.

Then, without ceremony or flair, the figure turned and retreated. It moved faster now, and within seconds it had vanished back into the shadows, leaving only the innocuous little parcel as proof it had ever been there at all.

Ripley stopped the playback. Ella's brain shuffled through the implications like a deck of marked cards. The build, the height, that peculiar way of holding themselves. Was it all designed to lead back to her?

Ella turned to Mia. ‘What did he leave on your doorstep?’

‘Not what. Who.’

‘Huh?’

Ripley reached into her purse, pulled out a plastic bag, and Ella's heart plummeted through the floor. There, nestled in sterile plastic, was a matted hank of hair. Thin, brittle, uncharacteristically frizzy.

‘This figure arrived, scoped the place out, then left this gift behind. My house is a fortress, so even the dumbest criminal wouldn’t waste their time trying to get in.’ Mia turned to Ella. ‘Dark. I’m guessing this wasn’t you.’

Ella checked the timestamp again, then did the quick math. This figure appeared on Mia’s driveway two nights ago, when Ella was a hundred miles away from D.C.

'No. I was in a motel in Virginia. Luca was there. People saw me. There'll be CCTV. Check the motel registry, credit statements, vehicle GPS. The figure looks like me, but I promise you it's not.'

Ripley held the plastic bag to Ella’s head. ‘Look at that. It’s a color match. Someone left me a ball of your hair, Dark.’

Ella took it out of her hands and inspected it. If this killer was trying to frame her, why would they do this? To send a message? Maybe to frame Ripley instead? The questions piled up, each one amplifying the headache that had taken up residence between her eyes.

Edis exhaled so hard his tie would have fluttered if he'd been wearing one. Something in his face shifted, like ice breaking up in spring. ‘It’s a start, but it won’t completely absolve Ella in the police’s eyes. Mia, you have any idea who this person on the footage might be?’

‘No, but I’ll find out, because here’s the thing.’ Ripley tapped a knuckle on the screen. ‘I don’t live in that house anymore. I gave it to my son and his family, which means this figure – whoever it was – came within spitting distance of my grandson, and anyone who puts my grandson in danger is getting their arms ripped off.’

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