Page 29 of Girl, Undone
Turning back to the grave, Ella's gaze lingered on the coffin and the lifeless soul within.Somewhere out there, a wife was wondering why her husband never came home, and it was her responsibility to deliver the crushing blow.
‘I’ll go now.We can’t keep the family waiting.’
‘Alright.Meet you back at the precinct in a few hours?’
‘Done.See you soon.’
‘Good luck,’ Ripley said.
Two victims.Two nights.Both were killed in ways that mimicked historical torture, and both were drugged beforehand.The killer wasn't improvising or jumping at opportunities.He'd been planning this for a while, and this was the culmination of his fantasy.
Ella reached the car, climbed in, and started the engine.
Thomas Barker's wife was about to have the worst day of her life.
And Ella was the one who had to deliver the news.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Ella sat on a leather couch in a living room that didn't match the occasion.It was too bright and too put-together.There were cream-colored walls, an oversized flat-screen mounted above a gas fireplace, and a small aquarium humming in the corner.
Across from her sat Miranda Barker.She was early forties, with blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail and a silk robe wrapped around her tightly.She was also a woman who’d just discovered she’d become a widow.Miranda's eyes, wide and unblinking, stared into a void that the news of her husband's death had catapulted her.
Ella found herself unusually unsettled by the eerie calm that enveloped Miranda.There were no tears or sobs of grief, merely a stillness.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Ella said.‘I know that there’s nothing I can say that’ll help you right now.’
‘Tom is…?’Miranda trailed off.
In moments like these, Ella often felt like an intruder in the sacred privacy of grief.Yet, her duty anchored her there, in the horror of a life abruptly dismantled.She watched Miranda, whose lips had frozen, as if the very words that could express her agony had abandoned her.They said the hardest part of police life was putting your life in danger every day, but memories of such moments faded.On the contrary, moments like this didn’t.
‘Yes.I wish I could make it easier for you.’
‘He left for work.Like any other day.He...’
People responded differently to grief.Some people collapsed in an inconsolable heap immediately.Others went numb as their brains refusing to process the information.Miranda was the second type, at least for now.
‘He had a conference, some meeting thing,’ Miranda said.
Ella thought back to the business cards.Thomas Barker must have been networking.‘And he never came home?’
‘No.But last night was Monday night.’
‘It was.Does that mean something?’
‘Tom went out Monday nights.’Miranda’s tone was hollow, like she was speaking from a great distance.It reminded Ella of a speaker at a church sermon.
‘Where did he go?’
‘He never said.’
Ella’s eyebrows shot up.‘Tom just disappeared?Every Monday night?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you never thought it suspicious?’Ella kept her tone non-accusatory.That was the last thing Miranda needed.
'No.'Miranda's hands twisted in her lap, which Ella concluded was the physical manifestation of an internal struggle.'Tom has his secrets, and I know it.I just assumed he was out drinking.Last night, maybe he got too drunk.It wouldn't have been the first time.'
