Page 52 of Girl, Unknown

“Twenty-five years, by my count.”

“I make it twenty-six.”

Ella said, “Time has a way of distorting the memory.”

“Not for me. I remember everything.”

“Me too. But not this.”

“Sad. I thought we shared something that night.”

“I guess we did. Where is Clarissa?” Ella feared she already knew the answer.

“Oh, she’s fine. That bitch can run. I managed to pry her phone out of her sticky little hands. But don’t worry, she can’t hide from me.”

Ella felt relief at the fact Clarissa was alive, if he was telling the truth. Fury at the fact she was conversing with the very man who’d haunted her thoughts and dreams for her entire adult life. She breathed deeply and kept herself present, not reacting the way she thought she would when she finally had one-on-one contact with this man. The urge to shout and threaten were non-existent. The desire to ask questions didn’t itch at her tongue. She felt a different kind of hatred, one that went beyond the resentment she reserved for serial killers and mass murderers. This hatred burned at her soul and didn’t manifest as a physical or verbal response.

“Why are you calling me?” she asked.

“To let you know that you shouldn’t come home, because I’ll be waiting.”

Ella heard a loud buzzer in the background. Then the sounds of commotion. Logan Nash, if that was his real name, was somewhere public. Ella turned the phone to loudspeaker, navigated to one of her FBI-approved software tools.

“Is that supposed to scare me?”

“No. You’re already scared of me.”

Keep him talking,she screamed to herself. The more she heard his voice, the more chance she had of remembering it. It was thick and raspy, with no discernable accent, maybe a slight Chesapeake twang on the vowels. The rest was pure Virginia; nothing that would stand out.

“Keep thinking that. Are you going to tell me your name or what?”

Silence for a moment. “Nobody knows my real name. My best friends don’t know my real name. My children don’t know my real name.”

“Must be a hollow life, Logan Nash.”

“Your dad was a good man.” He steered the subject away. “But I had to do what I had to do.”

Ella thought she was in control, but tears threatened to fall. Memories of that night came flooding back, but she did her best to stay focused. Detective work first, worry about emotions second. “Why did you do it?”

“A contract is a contract, but let me tell you something, Miss Dark. You’ve probably done your research on me,profiledme, but you can’t dissect someone like me. I’ve lost count of how many people I’ve killed, and no one has even come close to stopping me. This is my home, but I’ve got bodies in every state. I’m the phantom killer, the death bringer. I’m aghost, and to me this is more than a side job. This is my sport. Hunting, catching, killing. I live for it, and anyone who gets close to me pays the price.”

Ella let the man speak. When the ego took charge, people revealed more than they realized.

“Why didn’t you kill me when you had the chance?”

“I don’t hurt children. Besides, I did kill you. You’ve been tormenting yourself about this for twenty-f…. twenty-six years.”

“You don’t hurt children? You left a five-year-old alone with a dead body. I screamed myself raw that night. What if no one had come? I could have been locked in that house for days, starving, next to my dead father.”

“Oh yes, you screamed. I heard it from down the street,” he laughed. “And I can still hear that pain in your voice now. It’s nostalgic.”

Ella tried not to rise to his comments. Every word was fuel for her investigation. Another buzzer sounded in the background.

Logan continued, “You’ve always had that shred of hope that catching your dad’s killer was within reach. You thought maybe the guy who did it was still around. It’s eaten you alive for decades, and that’s why you spend your days chasing down murderers, because they’re just surrogates for me, aren’t they?”

“You talk too much,” Ella said.

“I was always going to come back for you. I never intended to let you live.”

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