Page 9 of Girl, Unknown

Ella took a closer look at the photos, visualizing the scene through the killer’s eyes. “If he wanted a random victim, why wouldn’t he just attack someone on the street? Invading homes is a risky business. Compact environment, no wild elements for forensic countermeasure, and he didn’t spend long with the body if police couldn’t find any trace of an intruder.”

Ripley nodded in agreement. “You’re right. If he just broke in, strangled her, and fled, it means he’s either a disorganized drifter or a meticulous planner. We need to see the scene to make a decision.”

“And our second victim was almost the same, but a different killing method. What does that mean?”

“What do you think that means?” Ripley asked. Ella sometimes forgot that she was in charge of leading investigations now that Ripley was on the countdown to a life of luxury. In a few months, Ella would be heading out to these crime scenes alone. The thought made her heart sink, but after thirty years in the game she understood Ripley’s desire to get out alive.

“Progression, experimentation. He wanted to up the thrill, recreate the ecstasy of the first kill but strangulation wasn’t enough to get him there. He had to use a different killing method.”

“Right. I don’t want to say it’sgoodthat he’s progressed so rapidly, but it’s advantageous for us.”

Ella knew where Ripley was coming from. Sudden progression suggested that the unsub couldn’t control his impulses. A lack of control meant he was more prone to mistakes, and mistakes meant he might leave evidence behind.

“But strangulation to laceration within such a short timespan? It usually takes killers three, four victims before they switch up their M.O. He made this change for a reason.”

“It’s not a wild leap, Dark,” said Ripley. “Both are intimate ways of killing someone. If he’d switched to a gun or an axe, then yeah, we might have a few issues, but there’s obviously a sexual component here and he’s searching for the best way to indulge it.”

Ella took it on board, but couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t as simple as Ripley’s explanation. History told her that serial killers didn’t switch this drastically so quickly. The Zodiac eventually swapped a knife for a gun, BTK went from strangulation to stabbing, but it took more than five victims to get there. Ella decided to keep her suspicions to herself until she had more intel. “So we can safely say that these are his first kills,” she said.

“Yup, which explains why he’s been so meticulous at keeping his tracks covered. Newcomers always cover every base. It’s only the over-confident ones who take liberties.”

“That means this guy might not even have a criminal past.”

“Exactly. On the surface, it looks like these attacks were well-planned. The second victim was certainly no crime of passion, so all of that says to me that we’ve got an organized offender, someone with a sadistic streak who gets off on killing women.”

“The Davenport Ripper,” Ella said. “And there’s nothing I hate more than rippers.”

“Tell me about it.”

A ripper was the catch-all term given to an unsub that used a knife to mutilate victims – usually women – and was driven by power or lust fantasies. For many of these offenders, the act of stabbing symbolized the act of penetration, a substitute for an act they couldn’t or struggled to perform. Some rippers were driven to rage by their own inadequacies, some saw their victims as disposable objects, some harbored a frenzied hatred for women.

Ella didn’t quite know which category this unsub fell into. It could be any of them.

The plane’s engine began to whir and within a minute they were leaving D.C. behind. Private jets weren’t beholden to the constraints of commercial flights, so they could be in the air within a few minutes of stepping on board.

“Logan Nash,” Ripley said as she closed her notebook. “Tell me what you found.”

Ella hesitated, fighting the words off, not wanting to involve Ripley any more than she had to. This was Ella’s war to fight, and she’d unwittingly dragged Ripley onto the frontlines with her. Plus, if she told Ripley all the details, she might insist that Ella make it an active FBI case. She rubbed her temples then stared out of the window at the disappearing buildings, watching the city transform into clouds.

“Like I said, it’s complicated.”

Ripley seemed to sense her troubles. She leaned forward and said, “Dark, I’m not going to take this away from you. I know what you’re thinking. You’re worried I’m going to lodge a casefile for it, aren’t you? You’re worried Edis is going to demand you stay away, get someone else on it.”

Ella had to laugh. No matter how much she tried, Ripley could always see right into her brain. “Your profiling skills will be sorely missed when you’re gone. You know that?”

“I’ve spent nearly every day of the last year with you,” Ripley said. “I know what’s going on in that stupid head of yours, and I know how it feels to have a mission, an enemy you need to take down. I’m not going to stand in your way, because…” Ripley inspected her manicured nails. “Because I think you can do it better without the FBI’s help.”

Ella cleared her throat, not expecting such praise if it could be termed such a thing. “Really?”

“Yes. You do great work alone, when you’re untethered. You sometimes need someone to filter your mad ideas through, but I think you’d get the right answer in the end regardless. It would just take longer.”

Ella paused, tapped her fingers. Affection didn’t suit Ripley, she thought.

Ripley continued, “You helped me take down my old nemesis; now I’m going to help you do the same. Off the books. You just gotta promise me one thing.”

“No killing,” Ella said.

“No killing. Outside of these cases, you’re still a civilian. You don’t get a pass, and I don’t want my protégée to spend her first fifteen years on the job in prison.”

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