Page 71 of Girl, Unknown

It was ice.

Ella hung up without saying a word, because the person on the other end of the line wasn’t just the owner of D.C. Freezer Hire on Grandiose Drive. It was the man who killed her father twenty-six years ago.

The walls crumbled before her. She’d done it. The man had a name, a real identity, a place of work. He no longer was a faceless monster roaming the recesses of her most harrowing memories. He was now real, touchable flesh and blood.

All she had to do was finish the story.

Now it was just after four p.m.

More than enough time left.

Ella was out of her seat, locked and loaded, ready for a battle that had been a long time in the making.

“I’m coming for you, you son of a bitch.”

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

No one knew she was here. Not Ripley, not Ben, not anyone at the FBI. She was finishing this story the way it started: alone.

Ella watched the building from afar. It was the sole occupant of what used to be an industrial park, but the three other businesses that shared the space looked to be abandoned. As she waited, it dawned on her that Logan Nash had been living ten miles from her for the past eight years.

Two workers were loitering in the yard area, probably waiting for the clock to tick over. It was five minutes to six, which meant D.C. Freezer Hire would be closing its doors any second. Once the staff were out of the way, it was time to head in.

Overhead, an early dusk came ripping along. Today had been blisteringly hot, but the moment she ventured outside, dark skies and rainfall had made an unexpected appearance. Perhaps it was an omen that something bad was about to happen, be it to her or the man hopefully still inside D.C. Freezer Hire.

The loitering staff members waved goodbye to each other, headed to their cars in the adjacent lot. Ella concealed herself behind a dumpster until they passed, then slipped back out and observed her destination once more. One car remained in the lot, a black Ford sedan. Someone was still inside, and her instinct told her it was the man whose death she craved more than anything else on this earth.

Again, she couldn’t detect any fear at what she was about to do. If there was a good argument for the existence of fate, this was it. Ella felt like everything she’d done in her life, from her days in Virginia PD to her FBI training to her Intelligence work to her field agent job had all been leading to this day. She might not leave the place alive, or she might be confirming her own death by taking the man out, but she had no other option.

Ella checked the time. One minute to six.

She looked up to the sky and told her dad this was for him.

Across the lot, she arrived at a creaky white door. Through the glass partition, she saw a small foyer with three chairs, a vending machine, and a TV playing the news.

And someone sitting behind the desk.

A mountain of a man, around late fifties, scar tissue on his cheek, hair dyed black to conceal his true age.

She had him in her sights, and she wasn’t going to let go until one of them was dead.

Ella opened the door to the sound of a bell.

“Sorry, we’re clos…” the man said, but stopped as he lifted his gaze to meet the new arrival. “Closed,” he finished.

Ella and Logan Nash – or Raymond Pindell, as was his given name – regarded each other in cold, unnerving silence. Time stood still.It was the kind ofsilencethat spoke volumes without a word being uttered, the kind ofsilencethat suggested a sudden eruption was on the horizon.

The door clicked shut behind her. She turned around, twisted the lock, then slowly pulled down the blinds.

“Yes you are,” she said.

Logan stood up behind the counter, put his pen down. “Can I help you?” he asked.

Ella put one hand in her pocket, the other around the handle of her Glock .22. “I’m looking to rent one of your freezers.”

“Okay,” he said. “Can I take your name?”

Ella wasn’t sure if this man was humoring her, playing a game, or genuinely trying to protect his identity. The temperature here was one step above freezing. It iced her fingertips.

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