Page 46 of Girl, Fractured

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Ella cracked an eye open.Motel room ceiling tiles stared back.

Surprisingly, she’d slept.Deeply, even.Never mind that her legs dangled off the end of the sofa, or that her neck felt like bent steel.Compared to the usual post-murder adrenaline crash that left her hollow-eyed, this qualified as restorative.Sofa sleep was never consequence-free.

Maybe just being in the same room as Ripley, knowing neither of them was facing the bleak pre-dawn hours alone, had flicked some internal off-switch.Usually, she’d be awake hours before her 7 AM alarm, but she’d somehow slept like the dead.

The dead.Not the comparison she needed this morning, given what awaited her.

It was 7:03 according to her phone.Early enough to get a head start, not so early that she felt guilty about buzzing Luca.She thumbed a quick text:Morning, still in FL.How are things at home?Missing you x.She almost added some more, maybe something about a headless body in a pond, but Luca didn’t need to know.He was safe in Massachusetts, and sometimes distance was a gift.

Across the room, Ripley remained a shapeless lump beneath the motel’s floral comforter.Ella grabbed her clothes and skulked to the bathroom on silent feet.She confronted her reflection in the mirror and found a few more gray hairs than the last time she performed this monthly ritual.They were sprouting up faster than she could dye them these days.

Shower, moisturizer and a teeth-brushing later, Ella was all but ready to see what the day offered.When she emerged from the bathroom, Ripley had evolved from lump to semi-conscious human.She sat upright with her back against the headboard and her eyes half-closed.

‘Jesus, I didn’t oversleep, did I?’

‘Depends how quickly you can get ready.’

‘Like lightning.Did you sleep okay?’Ripley asked.

‘Yes I did, oddly.Did you?’

Ripley flung her legs out of the bed.Her black t-shirt saidRio Hotel, Las Vegas.‘Yeah.Must be all that salt in the air.It helps the respiratory system, and apparently reduces signs of aging.’

‘I could use some of that.When did you go to Las Vegas?’

‘Back in summer.My daughter-in-law dragged me there.’

‘Any good?’

‘Saw David Copperfield.He vanished a woman and made her appear in Hawaii.’

‘How’d he do that?’

‘Magic.Wish I could do that.’

Ella grabbed her things.‘Speaking of people you’d like to make disappear, I’ll go summon Sarah Webb to the precinct.We need her.’

‘Ugh.’

‘Come on, Mia.Be nice to her.’

‘Why?Because she writes books about dead people?’

‘No, because she’s our mole in the White Whale Club, two members of which are dead.’

‘I can’t be friends with anyone who profits off cold cases.I bet she’s got a criminal profiling degree from Armchair University.’

‘Do you know how much true crime authors make?No one gets into that game for the money.’

‘No, they get into it for the attention.’Ripley stood up and stretched.‘But fine.I’ll try not to hit her.’

‘That’s the spirit.’Ella quickly concluded there was no point trying to convince her partner of Sarah’s well-meaning nature.Even early-morning Ripley was as stubborn as concrete.‘I’ll meet you downstairs when you’ve done your business.’

‘Roger.Give me ten.’

Ella stepped into the hallway and closed the door on Ripley’s morning cynicism.A housekeeping cart stood abandoned halfway down the hall, loaded with miniature shampoos and threadbare towels.She scrolled through her contacts until she found the number Sarah had given her last night.

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