Page 8 of Girl, Empty
‘It is overkill.’
‘That’s why I brought it,’ Ripley said.‘Stand back.This thing will take your eyebrows off.’
Ella retreated to the safety of Ripley’s sunroom.This was her new house, the one she’d downsized to since handing over her old fortress to her son.However, Ripley’s son and her family were still holed up in a safe house, because Ella’s murderous stalker had made threats against the owners of said fortress.Ella assumed that the killer believed Ripley still lived there, but she evacuated her family just to be safe.
‘Ready?’Ripley called.
‘What’s your technique here?’
‘No such thing.Just watch out, because there’s about to be 200 pissed off wasps flying about any second now.’
Ripley pulled the trigger, and a massive jet of orange flame erupted from the torch with a roar that made Ella glad she was behind glass.Ripley stood silhouetted against the flames like something out of Mad Max.The nest disintegrated under the assault, and true to Ripley's warning, wasps began pouring out in an angry cloud.A few surviving wasps emerged in confused spirals before the cold air claimed them.
Ripley waited a moment, watching for any stragglers, then pulled off her beekeeping hood to reveal hair that had abandoned all pretense of its usually perfect bun.‘What’d you think of that?’
‘Nature is a cruel mistress.And so are you.’
Ripley escaped into the house and shut the door before any living wasps could claim vengeance.'Wasps have no place here.They're the serial killers of the insect world.’
‘Do you feel better now?’
'Yeah.'Ripley put down her flamethrower, unzipped her beekeeper outfit, and became a normal person again.'Scorched earth.Do you want a drink?'
‘Got any Coke?’
‘Coke?It’s a winter morning.’
‘I know, but my throat has been dry as a bone since Christmas.Coke is the only thing that helps.’
‘Weird.’Ripley moved to the kitchen and returned with a can of Diet Coke.‘Will this do?How was Christmas?This was your first one with Hawkins, right?’
‘Yeah.First one.We didn’t do much.Just stayed in, watched films, had Chinese food.I guess that’s the American dream.’
Ripley moved into the living room and took a seat.Ella followed suit.'Yeah, it is.There's nothing more American than Chinese food.I had Christmas dinner in a safe house, which was quite the experience.'
‘Was it?’
‘Sort of.It was actually quite nice.’
‘How’s your family holding up in there?’
‘They love it.It’s like a holiday home, and little Max doesn’t care about the cold, he just spends all day in the garden.Do you have that training thing today?’
‘Yeah, midday,’ Ella said.‘You?’
‘I’m supposed to, but maybe I burned myself on my weed torch.Can’t type with burned fingers, can you?’
Around nine months ago, Mia Ripley had retired after 30 years of service to the FBI.She’d spent six months gardening and looking after grandson, and then out of some masochistic urge, had returned to the fold.Ella still didn’t understand why, because Ripley had spent the better part of their time together talking about how she was ready to leave the job behind for good, but law enforcement attracted a certain type of person, and that type didn’t like to sit around doing nothing.
‘Don’t try and worm your way out of it.I could work from here, if you want,’ Ella said.‘My laptop’s in the car.’
‘What’s this?Trying to get out of the house?’
‘A little bit.’
‘Cabin fever gets to you after a while.How are things going with the other case?’
Ella sighed.‘They won’t let me on it.Do you know anything?’
