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‘Think he'll bolt?’Ripley asked.
‘Doubt it. I hate tosay it, but I didn’t see a shred of guilt on that guy.’
‘Same.’
Ella's frustrationsimmered as she watched the gym, her initial conviction that Frank Harlowe wastheir man now dissolving into a pool of doubt. The pieces just weren't addingup, and the nagging feeling of missing something crucial gnawed at her.
Ripley broke thesilence again, her voice cutting through Ella's spiraling thoughts. ‘Tech's enroute. We'll know soon enough.’
Ella exhaled sharply,the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. ‘I was so sure, Mia.Everything pointed to him...until it didn't.’
‘That's how it goessometimes. You know that. This job...it's a series of dead ends, wrong turns,and the occasional straight path. The trick is to keep moving, no matter what.’
‘Yeah, but it doesn'tmake it any less annoying.’ Ella's fingers ceased their tapping, restingheavily on the wheel. She glanced over at Ripley, a new question forming. ‘Howdid you know all that stuff about the Navy?’
‘Martin is ex-Navytoo. He tells me all sorts of crap.’
Ella's response was ahalf-smile, but inside, a different storm brewed. ‘Martin seems like a goodguy,’ she managed, the words tasting like vinegar on her tongue. It wasn't thatshe wasn't happy for Ripley; it was just that every mention of Ripley's bloomingromance served as a stark reminder of her own unraveling personal life.
'Yeah, he is,' Ripleysaid, her eyes softening at the mention of his name, hopefully oblivious to theundercurrents swirling inside her partner. Although Ella always suspected thatRipley was already aware of every thought running through her head. 'You'llhave to meet him properly some time.'
‘I’d love to. I didn’thave much chance to talk to him last time.’ She turned her gaze back to thegym, pretending to focus on the task at hand. In truth, she was wrestling witha pang of jealousy so acute it surprised her. She was happy for Ripley, truly,but the timing couldn't have been worse.
‘Just don’t talk tohim about chess. Or maps. Or anything boring like that because he never shutsup.’
‘Got it.’ Ella said.‘That story about the sailor, too. Was that one of Martin’s?’
‘No.’ Ripley said. ‘Mydad told me that. But I didn’t tell Harlowe the whole truth.’
Ella turned, curiositypiqued. ‘You didn’t?
‘The sailor never saidthat choking was like going home.’
‘What did he say?’
‘He said it wasagony.’
The simplicity of theword, yet the depth of suffering it implied, resonated with Ella more than shecared to admit. She thought of the few times she’d been on the verge ofsuffocation and had to agree. There was nothing pleasant about being choked tothe edge of consciousness.
‘Thanks for stoppingme before I said anything,’ Ella said.
‘Don’t sweat it. I cantell you’re on edge.’
‘What’s new?’
‘Have you heard fromlover boy yet? Any messages?’
Ella pulled out herphone. No new messages.
‘Nothing. I think it’sreally over this time.’
‘Just because youwouldn’t move in with him? That’s a dick move on his part, to be honest.’
Ella shoved her phoneback into her jacket pocket, feeling the sharp sting of Ripley's words morethan she expected. She gritted her teeth, not wanting to go down this road sosoon, but part of her thought it might be therapeutic.
‘It’s more than movingin. Ben's ready for marriage, for kids... And me? I'm a thousand miles fromhome, chasing a psychopath murdering therapists. Our lives don’t… connect.’
‘So?’
