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‘You’re serious? Thisisn’t some joke?’
Shock rooted Ella tothe spot. The idea of such a powerful figure falling prey to a shooter seemedso incongruous with the world as she knew it, that for a moment, she wonderedif she had misheard.
‘Did you hear me?’Ripley's voice pulled her back from the edge of her spiraling thoughts. ‘Carteris dead.’
Ella nodded,swallowing the lump in her throat. As much as Carter's demise should have beena distant concern to her – given their mutual disdain – the gravity of thesituation was undeniable. If anything, the proximity of the murder to theirreturn from Connecticut didn't sit right with her. It was too close, toopersonal.
‘Who would do this?’Ella finally whispered, more to herself than to Ripley. Her mind was alreadyracing through the list of potential suspects; someone connected to their lastcase? Someone from Carter’s past? An old grudge that resented Carter’s suddenpromotion?
But this was noordinary crime – it was an execution-style killing of a high-ranking FBIofficial – and she couldn't help but feel there was more to it than anassassination or thrill kill or strange coincidence.
She scanned Ripley'sface, searching for clues in the taut lines that stress had etched around hereyes. She found only a reflection of her own disbelief, an echo of the dreadthat was slowly coiling in her stomach.
Ripley shifteduncomfortably, rolling her neck to release some tension.
‘I wish I knew,’ sheadmitted, her gaze flitting away momentarily before locking back onto Ella's.‘Carter wasn't just any pencil pusher – he had a whole career putting away someof the worst criminals before he climbed the ranks. As a prosecutor, then attorneygeneral. The man made enemies at every turn.’
Her hands trembledslightly as she gripped the back of a plush, crimson armchair in Ripley'sliving room. Her breaths came in short spurts. Despite their shared historywith the man – none of it fond – the finality of murder was a chasm too vastfor petty grievances.
‘Including you,’ Ellasaid.
‘Tell me about it.’
The room seemed tocontract, the walls pressing in. A silence fell, punctuated only by the distantcawing of crows from the mist–shrouded woods surrounding the house.
‘Enemies,’ Ellarepeated, letting the word linger on her lips. It was a concept she knew alltoo well. In their line of work, enemies were a given, a shadow that trailedevery step, every victory. Yet when one materialized into something deadly, itchanged the game entirely.
‘Exactly,’ Ripleycontinued, her tone edged with a wariness that belied her usual composure. ‘Andwe can't forget that our past with Carter was... tumultuous. It's no secret.’She paused, locking her jaw tight for a moment. ‘We have to be alert, Dark.This could very well be a message, and if it is, we're likely not finished withthe fallout.’
The warning prickledat every nerve in Ella’s body. Their relationship with Carter had been fraughtwith conflict, a constant battle of wills that left little room for warmth. Butto think that someone might leverage that animosity to draw them into a larger,more sinister plot made her heart sink.
I couldn't agree more.We need to stay alert,’ Ella echoed. The words felt inadequate, almostlaughable against the backdrop of such a calculated act of violence. But it wasall they had: vigilance in the face of an unknown adversary.
‘Yeah. You know whatthe politicking is like in this game. The first people they’ll look at is theguys who didn’t want Carter in the hot seat. We’re pretty high on that list.’
‘Could it be someonewe put away?’ Ella's voice broke through the silence. ‘Someone like HarveyWhitmore?’ The name tasted bitter on her tongue, a reminder of a case that hadleft scars not visible to the naked eye.
Ripley paced from wallto wall, then stopped and stared out of the window. ‘Whitmore?’
Harvey Whitmore, amurderer with a fixation on Ella so intense it had bordered on worship, wasbehind bars because of her. ‘I put him away about six months back, but he’s inopen prison. He’s the only perp we’ve caught that isn’t in jail until the cowscome home.’
‘It couldn't beWhitmore.’ Ripley said. She crossed her arms, her posture rigid as if bracingagainst the very notion. ‘Carter's promotion wasn't public knowledge. He'd beenthe director for one day – only those in the Bureau knew.’
Ella joined Mia at thewindow, her thoughts snagging on every word. It was true; the circle ofindividuals aware of Carter's new role was small, insular. A killer with suchintimate knowledge implied an inside job, or at the very least, a breach thatran deep within the Bureau's ranks.
‘Then... it's someonefrom the inside? Someone who knew and hated the decision?’ The possibility feltlike a shard of ice wedged in her chest. Trust had always been a commoditydoled out sparingly in their line of work, but now even that seemed too generous.
Mia met Ella's gaze,her eyes dark with the weight of implications neither wanted to consider. ‘Wecan't rule it out,’ she conceded, her voice dropping to almost a whisper. ‘Butjumping to conclusions won't serve us, and as much as I hate to say it, thisisn’t our problem.’
Ella felt the roomspin slightly, yet the pragmatism in Ripley's voice was a cold splash ofreality. 'You think?'
‘It’s a matter forInternal Affairs, not us. All we need to do is keep our ears to the ground. Ifthere’s a connection to us or our old cases, we’ll find it.’
Ella nodded. ‘Got it.’
‘The last thing weneed is to get caught in the crossfire of an investigation that's alreadylooking for scapegoats.’
Ella wandered theroom, her thoughts suddenly turning to Logan Nash, the specter that had hauntedher every step of her entire adult life. Nash had been the man who murderedElla’s father twenty–five years ago, and it had only been a week since Ella hadcaught Nash after an elusive pursuit. Nash had been secured in a safe house, atemporary hold before he could be brought to stand trial, a day Ella hadenvisioned with a fierce longing.
