Page 78 of Girl, Undone
The end of the road came into sight, and Helmsley Bridge loomed in the distance.It was far from an engineering marvel, certainly not one of the reliable structures that spanned the more traveled parts of Cedarburg.It was a relic that time, and Cedarburg seemed to have left behind.The bridge itself was rickety, made of wood that creaked and moaned with every gust of wind.The ropes on either side, intended as handholds, were frayed and worn, offering little comfort or safety to those who dared traverse it.According to Ella's quick online search, this place was something of a suicide hotspot.The icy lake below had allegedly claimed over twenty lives since the 1990s.
Ripley slammed the brakes on at the base of Helmsley Bridge.Ella squinted through the windshield.
There it was.
Unmistakable.
A lone silhouette dwarfed by the vastness of the structure and dark void below.
‘There!She’s in the middle of the bridge!’Ella flung open the car door and put her boots to the gravel.Ripley thundered beside her, and as they moved closer, the figure became unquestionably clear – it was Lily from the therapy group.Her body was rigid, and Ella could see she was handcuffed to the frayed rope that served as the bridge’s handhold.
'FBI, you're safe,' Ripley shouted.The old structure groaned under her weight.Ella's heart thrashed wildly because Lily's handcuffs, mercilessly tight, allowed her little movement, thus forcing her to lie face down on the bridge's rickety planks.Yet, even in such dire straits, Lily's survival instinct was present.A twitch of her fingers, the rise and fall of her back with each shallow breath she managed to draw.
Lily was alive.
Ella inhaled a gust of cool night air, but the relief was short-lived.
She turned in every direction.Lily was here, but there was no sign of the aggressor who’d made this nightmare a reality.She swept the expanse of Helmsley Bridge for any sign of Maxwell Tanner.
Deserted.
Up ahead, Ripley wrapped herself around Lily.Ella watched her dig into her pocket, pull out her penknife, and clip away at Lily's restraints.
She was alive and safe, but that was only half the battle.
The icy grip of realization clenched Ella's heart.Maxwell had to be watching this scene unfold from somewhere, some vantage point.And if Maxwell saw both Ella and Ripley together on the bridge, he would seize the chance to disappear into the night.
Time was slipping through her fingers; every second they remained in sight could be the second Maxwell chose to vanish.
But she knew him now – not just the deeds he had committed, but the very essence of his fascination with fear.She’d read every last detail in his manuscript on the way here, and as she surveyed the rocky terrain around Helmsley Bridge, a moment of comprehension ignited in the back of her mind.
She glanced over the railing and saw the flat sheet of water below.
With a subtle gesture, Ella signaled for Ripley to stay put with Lily.She nodded.
And with that, Ella peeled away from the bridge and disappeared into the shadows.
Because she knew exactly where Maxwell Tanner was hiding.
CHAPTER FORTY FOUR
Beneath the skeletal frame of Helmsley Bridge, Maxwell Tanner crouched in the dark and thought about murder.The lake beside him mirrored the night sky, and Maxwell had to use all of his willpower not to empty the barrel of his gun into it.Every muscle in his body was taut, ready to unleash the violence that simmered just beneath his skin.
The damn police had ruined everything.
His eyes were fixed on the two figures above.Lily, the final piece of his puzzle.The cop, some uninvited wannabe-hero who’d dared to intrude on his experiment.
Maxwell wrestled with the idea of firing from his hidden perch and ending it all with two pulls of the trigger.Yet, the knowledge that such an act would reduce his masterpiece to a mere footnote of violence ate at his core and threatened to cheapen everything that he’d worked so hard for.
He stared at the gun.Then, at the figures above.
No.Maxwell Tanner hadn't made it this far by being stupid.He was a predator cornered, and with his instincts still as sharp as a razor’s edge, Maxwell was fully aware that the end was upon him.
The game was over.His world was on the brink of collapse.His car was parked nearby.The test subject, if given the chance, could reveal his identity to the police.His identity – stage names, though they were, could be exposed to the merciless scrutiny of the law.
He could not afford the luxury of rage, not when every second he hung around increased the risk of capture.Therefore, the only solution was absolute purification of himself from this city.He had to sever the ties that bound him to this place, to this failed experiment, and disappear into the night.The thought of fleeing, of abandoning his grand design, was anathema to him.Yet, survival beat pride.
As Maxwell looked up at the victim and the cop, he made his decision.He would retreat into the shadows one last time, but not in defeat.He would vanish, and leave behind a mystery that would haunt Cedarburg for years to come.
