Page 44 of Girl, Fractured

‘I’m just down the hall.Room 220.’

‘Meet you out here at 8?We’ll focus on finding the other members of the White Whale club.’

‘Sounds like a plan.We’ll have to get Sarah Webb into the precinct to help us.’

‘Can’t wait.Goodnight, then.’

‘Wait.’Ella’s hand shot out before Ripley could retreat into her room.The mention of Sarah had brought the question bubbling in her mind to the surface.‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Depends.’

‘Who’s Nathan Taylor?’

The change in Ripley’s posture was subtle but immediate.Her stance didn’t crumple so much as collapse inward.The transition was so swift and complete that Ella instantly regretted the question.

‘I’m sorry.I shouldn’t have asked.’

‘How do you know that name?’

‘Sarah Webb mentioned it.When you got out of her car, she said something about you talking about Nathan Taylor.’

Ripley took a deep breath that expanded her chest but seemed to provide no relief.She leaned against the door frame opposite Ella’s door, dropped her bag and crossed her arms.It was a defensive posture, but Ella couldn’t tell if Ripley was defending against the memory or against her.

‘Nathan Taylor was the son of the final victim in the ‘98 burials.’

The ‘98 Beachside Burials.Ella’s mental files supplied the grim summary.Four men, abducted, buried alive in the sand just below the high-tide line on isolated beaches along the coast.Found days later, drowned by the incoming tide.A particularly cruel way to go.The killer was dubbed the Sandman.Never caught.

‘Oh.’Ella’s stomach twisted with regret for asking.‘You don’t have to-’

‘I was there,’ Ripley continued as though Ella hadn’t spoken.‘On the Paradise Point Beach, about twenty miles from here, actually.Fourth body in as many months.We secured the scene, put the tape up, and before long the media circus had arrived.Tourists, locals, news crews.And right there in the middle was this little boy.’

She paused, and Ella could almost see the memory playing out behind her eyes.Ella remained silent.She knew from experience that there were some memories people needed to excavate at their own pace, like archaeology performed on the self.

‘I’d never seen the kid in my life, but I just knew.He looked just like the victim we’d just found.’

‘So, you had to do the hard part.’

Ripley nodded.‘It was my job to tell him.Walk over there, introduce myself, explain that his dad was never coming home because some sick bastard had buried him alive.’

‘Jesus.’Ella wished she could retract the question, rewind the last few minutes.

‘I’ll never forget that day.’Ripley blinked hard.Her eyes shimmered with something that might have been tears if Ella hadn’t known better.‘He was standing under where the rock jutted out, like a cave.’

‘How did he react?’The question escaped before she could stop it.

‘He didn’t cry.That’s what got me.Most kids that age would’ve broken down, but he just stared at me with those huge eyes and asked, ‘Did it hurt?’And Christ, what do you say to that?’Ripley ran a hand through her hair.‘I told him his dad probably fell asleep before the water came, which was a lie, but what else could I say?That his father clawed at the sand until his fingernails broke off?That he probably screamed until his lungs filled with saltwater?’

‘You did the right thing.’

‘Maybe.’Ripley’s shoulders slumped.‘I’ve notified hundreds of families over the years, but I’ll never forget that day.That boy, Nathan, had one of those books in his hand.You remember Goosebumps?Those scary stories for kids.’

‘Absolutely.’

‘I remember it like it was yesterday.Purple cover, evil scarecrow on the front, bookmark sticking out of the middle.Weird the things that stick, huh?’

Ella felt a stab of guilt.She’d forced Ripley to reopen an old wound for what amounted to curiosity on her part.

‘I’m sorry I asked you to relive that.’

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