Page 59 of Girl, Lured

“Then yeah, I’m thinking what you’re thinking. How should we do this?”

Ripley stood up, phone in hand. “I’ll get the details to the sheriff. He can assign some officers to keep an eye on these guys. We’ll go and keep Patricia safe.”

Ella nodded in agreement. She grabbed Patricia’s address and readied herself for what could be their confrontation with this unsub, providing he was planning on striking tonight. Given his sudden escalation, it seemed likely he would, especially as mission-oriented offenders carried out their murders without much respite. They tended to draw up a plan and carry it out in one violent swoop, leaving as quickly as they arrived. If he knew that the FBI were on his trail, which was very possible considering he invaded the very motel they were staying at, he would act fast and then flee. If he’d developed a taste for murder, he’d move to another town and start searching for his next Job there. If this was a one-time experiment, he’d disappear into the shadows, off the grid, until it was safe to return home.

“Done,” Ripley said. “You got Patricia’s details?”

“Yes. I’m ready to catch this guy. Are you?”

Ripley checked the ammunition levels in her pistol and concealed it. “Just try and stop me. And Dark, one thing before we go.”

“Anything. What?”

“Try not to throw this guy off anything high.”

A cowardly murderer, taking innocent lives for his own misguided needs, targeting vulnerable individuals out of some warped fantasy. So far, he’d struck in both the daylight and midnight hours, and with two victims in two days, he’d be experiencing the rush that came with progression. Serial killers were at their most dangerous and unpredictable during periods of evolution, so Ella needed to ensure these victims were safe immediately.

“No promises,” she said. “Let’s go.”

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

The house on Savage Hill was a tranquil and modest place, its peaceful atmosphere belying the surrounding wildness. It was a small, single-story structure with a gray roof and white walls, and a small porch with a few wooden chairs. Night had begun to set in, and Ella only prayed that she wasn’t too late.

With the car abandoned in the small driveway, she hammered on the front door as Ripley damned all privacy and peered in through the windows. “Can’t see anyone inside,” Ripley said.

“Come on. Please be in.”

Time seemed to stand still as Ella awaited an answer. She couldn’t help but feel a sinking sense of dread, as if the silence was an omen for what was to come.

Ripley interjected, banging again. “Patricia. Please open up if you’re in,” she shouted.

Ella reached for the handle. Locked. “Try the back?” she asked.

Ripley was at the edge of the house when a loud, persistent buzzing made her jump.

“Hello?” said a woman’s voice.

Ella turned to the doorbell, not realizing it doubled as a speaker. “Is that Patricia Edwards?” Ella asked.

“Umm… yes,” the woman said.

“I don’t mean to disturb you, but we’re with the police. Could we speak to you?”

“Police? What’s this about?”

Ella didn’t want to terrify the woman, but fear got quick results, and right now they couldn’t waste any time. “Mrs. Edwards, we believe you might be in danger. Could you let us in?”

Ripley had heard the voices and returned to the door. Then, the sound of a latch coming undone. Ella tried the handle again and the door opened. They stepped into a short hallway with a gray carpeted floor and two doors either side. “Patricia?” Ella called.

“In here. To your left.”

Ripley went first, opening a door into a warm and spacious living room. Soft cream walls, plush rugs and furniture arranged in an inviting circle. At the center sat a blonde woman in a gray robe and sweatpants, looking worse for wear but very much alive. Her skin condition was clearly visible, her face and hands a mosaic of red, angry patches. A patchwork quilt of discomfort.

“Patricia, we didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Agent Dark, this is Agent Ripley. Sorry to burst in on you like this.”

Ella’s verbal comforts didn’t seem to accomplish much because Patricia wore a mask of terror. “What’s going on?” she asked, mouth partially open.

“There’s been a series of homicides in the area. We theorized that the perpetrator could strike here next, but we’re here to keep you safe.”

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