Page 39 of Girl, Deceived

Ella smiled. Sleep could wait. ‘You know my answer.’

‘Precinct it is. Let’s go.’

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The morning sun painted the Los Angeles skyline with hues of gold and pink. Birds chirped, and the city stirred to life as people hustled about, oblivious to the horror that had unfolded during the night. Mia Ripley leaned against the windowpane of her office, an empty coffee cup in hand, gazing at the city with a distant look.

The exhaustion was evident in every line on her face. Her usually sharp eyes were now clouded with fatigue. She hadn't slept, and neither had Ella. The weight of the case, the lives lost, the mounting pressure to find the killer - it was all taking its toll. They’d been in LA two days, but to Ripley, two days was a lifetime in this city.

Ella walked in, her movements sluggish. She carried a tray with two coffees and a couple of doughnuts. ‘Breakfast,’ she said, forcing a weak smile.

Ripley turned to face her, accepting her next caffeine injection with gusto. ‘You know, I've been in this game for over three decades. Seen some of the most twisted minds at work. But this... this feels different.’

Ella sighed, taking a seat opposite Ripley. The precinct began to fill with the morning crew.

‘It's like he's playing a game, but the rules are from a world we're not familiar with.’

Ripley looked at her with weary eyes. ‘Ella, I have to admit... I'm out of my depth on this one.’

Ella put down her coffee, her expression softening. ‘It's okay. It's hard to connect the dots when you don't know the picture they're supposed to form.’

'But you do,' Ripley said with a resigned tone. Ella nodded slowly. 'Yes. I know the movies, the tropes, the patterns. But it's more than that. It's understanding the psyche of someone who would take those stories and twist them in such a macabre way.'

‘Then you’re going to need to take the reins here. I trust you to do it right.’

Ella blinked, clearly taken aback. ‘You want me to lead?’

Ripley studied her for a moment, then nodded. ‘Yes. You've got an insight into this that I don't. And the truth is, in a few months, you're going to be on your own anyway. I’m only supposed to be the consultant out here.’

She thought of Martin and the life that awaited on the other side of employment, a life that wasn’t categorized by serial murder. A big part of the job was knowing when to step away from the limelight, and Ripley was more than ready to take that step now. She’d toyed with the idea for years, but Martin’s influence had accelerated the decision. She’d stepped on the gas, but every time she looked in the rearview mirror, she'd see the rookie – better than Ripley had ever been.

‘I appreciate the confidence, Mia,’ said Ella. ‘These jaunts won’t be the same without you.’

‘You won’t be alone. You’ll have some rookie to boss around.’

‘I’m not sure how to feel about that,’ Ella laughed.

Ripley drummed her fingers on the table. ‘That’s another conversation for another day. Right now, we need to find out if Ginny has any connections to Jessica or Kathleen. Friends, colleagues, lovers, anything.’

‘That’s what I’ve spent three hours doing,’ Ella said. ‘Absolutely nothing so far. Ginny worked a basic admin job and did babysitting gigs on occasion. She didn’t run in the same circles as Jessica and Kathleen. No friends in common, didn’t frequent the same places. These women are from three different walks of life, I’m sure of it.’

‘So the killer’s finding them through an unconnected thread.’

‘Yes, and there’s one thing that sticks out.’

Ripley was ready for it. The anomalies always held the best clues. ‘Go.’

‘All three girls were on social media in some way or another, but Ginny’s account doesn’t show her name. It just saysGMathers01.’

Ripley took it in. ‘So how’d he find her name? And how’d he find out about her babysitting job?’

‘He must have gotten close to her.’

‘Or close to someone who knows her. Have we talked to the Martin family?’

‘Daniels has. Their alibi checks out, but I’ll ask Daniels to question them a little further.’

Ripley eyed Ella’s whiteboard scrawling and turned her thoughts to the unsub’s physical appearance. ‘So we think this guy crawled in through a vent in the Martins’ house?’

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