Page 88 of Girl, Fractured

A lead weight settled into Ripley’s stomach, and not because someone was pointing a revolver at her.This was Paradise Point Beach, where 26 ago, they’d discovered four dead bodies.Ripley had only been brought in on the fourth, and her mind conjured up those old images: a man buried alive at high tide, discovered when the water receded.The footprints of investigators trampling potential evidence.Yellow tape fluttering in the sea breeze.

And a small boy clutching a purple paperback, asking her if drowning hurt.

Ripley started forward.Ripley’s law enforcement instincts screamed at her to make a move, but an odd curiosity propelled her forward.Plus, the beach had more space.Better to make a move when there wasn’t a chance of a bullet bouncing off a wall or a railing.

‘Where am I going?’

‘Keep walking.You’ll see soon enough.’

The access road led down to the sand.Ahead, the ocean stretched black and infinite under the night sky.To their right, a massive limestone outcropping jutted from the sand like the prow of a ship run aground.The original crime scene had been twenty yards past it, where tidal calculations had determined exactly how long it would take for the rising water to drown a man buried to his neck.

A figure stood in the shadow of the rock.Male, average height, form obscured by darkness but posture unmistakably expectant.As they approached, moonlight carved his features from the surrounding blackness.

Ripley had seen the same man just a few hours ago.

Robert Lawrence.Sarah’s boyfriend, publisher, and now Ripley realized – co-conspirator.He stood next to a deep hole, a shovel discarded beside it.

‘Nice of you to join us, Agent Ripley.’

Ripley’s eyes darted around.Sand.Ocean.Rock.Them.No one else.Just these two lunatics, a loaded gun, and a hole in the ground that looked suspiciously the same size as her.It didn’t take a genius, or even a moderately competent FBI profiler, to connect those particular dots.

‘Didn’t have much of a choice.’

Robert Lawrence emerged from the gloom, and Ripley was suddenly transported back in time.Everything was oddly familiar, but glossed over with a modern filter.She recognized the face, the expression.

26 years ago he was just a boy, and now he was a man.

‘Nathan Taylor,’ Ripley said.

‘Very good.How’d you know?’

‘Lucky guess.’

Sarah positioned herself ten feet from her boyfriend, still with the gun aimed at her.‘You know what’s going to happen, don’t you?’she asked.

‘No.’

‘Well, this look familiar?’Nathan picked up the shovel and used it to show how deep the hole was.‘It should.You saw something like this back in 1998.’

Come on, Dark,Ripley thought.Please have figured this out.

‘Yeah I did.Why are you doing this?’

Nathan slammed the shovel back into the sand.‘Y’see, this is what infuriates me.You’re a profiler, aren’t you?You of all people should know why I’m doing this!’

‘I have an idea.I just want to hear it from your mouth.’

‘Lies.Just like you lied to me years ago.’

‘What?You wanted me to tell you the truth when you were ten years old?’

‘Yes, because you don’t realize what that does to a kid.’

‘Alright, I’m sorry for lying.Happy?’

Robert – or Nathan – stepped closer.‘I’m far from happy.You promised you’d catch the guy that did it, and did you?’

‘No,’ Ripley said.The tide was coming in now.It stopped a few feet from the edge of the hole that Nathan had dug.

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