AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Ella considered it,but she wasn’t so sure. She thought back to the tape recording, the violentdemands for Donna Shepherd to cure him. The admission that he’d killedbefore and wanted to stop.
‘Do you think so?’
‘We’ve got threevictims and no clear motive. You’re the expert. Name any serial killer fromhistory where you can’t pinpoint their motives from two victims, let alonethree.’
Ella did the quickmental exercise and conceded that Ripley had a point. ‘You’re right, but thenwhy do our therapists all look the same? These women are surrogates forsomeone, or they represent something he hates. And pretty soon he’s going torun out of blonde-haired, green-eyed therapists, and that’s when he’ll becomeuncontrollable.’
Ripley shrugged, herface a mask of frustration. ‘Maybe he's recreating a trauma, or maybe it's his twistedversion of art. We're dealing with a psyche that doesn't adhere to our logic.Trying to understand him is futile.’
Ella's mind raced,connecting dots that seemed scattered yet somehow aligned in a pattern only shecould sense. ‘It's like he's painting a picture with each crime scene, eachvictim. But what's the picture?’
‘Dark, there’s nomaster plan with this guy. Look at this place. It’s like a tornado has runthrough it. Ritualistic offenders are specific, organized, theatrical. Theyengineer crime scenes like they’re matchstick houses. This is uninhibited rageat its most unfiltered. There’s no picture here.’
Ella's hands paused intheir methodical search among the debris, her fingers brushing against a soleunbroken frame on Penelope's desk. For a moment, Ella allowed herself a whisperof relief amid the storm of destruction.
‘Well, there’s onepicture,’ Ella said.
Ripley looked over.‘What?’
Ella pointed at it.‘This one.’
Perched next toPenelope Olson’s cracked monitor was a photograph of Penelope and what Ellaguessed was her daughter – a pretty, twenty-something brunette – at agraduation ceremony.
Ripley came around tothe other side of the desk. ‘Of course, our killer left the picture of the hotyoung girl intact. I told you he's a secret pervert.'
Ella took a moment toabsorb the photograph. Penelope’s killer had destroyed nearly everything elsein the room, but left a noticeable, easily-smashable ornament undamaged.
Chief Caldwell’s voicecarried across the room. ‘Forensics are outside,’ he said. ‘You ladies needanything else before they start sweeping?’
Ella scanned theoffice from wall to wall one more time, then took one last look at PenelopeOlson’s lifeless form.
But still couldn’t seeanything beyond the surface.
‘Can we talk toPenelope’s daughter?’
‘Yeah. Her name’sMadison. She’s outside with a couple of my guys now.’
‘Come on, Ripley.Maybe Madison can shed some light on who might want to do this.’
‘After you,’ Ripleysaid.
Ella headed out of thedoor, leaving behind chaos in search of clarity.
***
Ella stepped outside,instantly drawn to the young brunette huddled in the back of a police cruiser.Her features, so vivid in the photograph she had just seen, were now marred bygrief, her hands trembling as she pressed tissues against her eyelids.
With Ripley besideher, Ella approached the cruiser and bent down. There was never an easy way tointroduce yourself to someone in the throes of distress.
‘Madison?’ Ella asked.
Madison's eyes,swollen from crying, flickered towards Ella, then to Ripley, as if searchingfor an anchor in the storm. She nodded, a fragile gesture that conveyed a worldof sorrow.
'I'm Agent Dark, andthis is Agent Ripley. We're with the FBI. We know there's nothing we can saythat'll help you right now.'
Madison's response wasa broken whisper. ‘Who would do this to my mom? Why?’
‘That’s what we’regoing to find out. If you can bring yourself to tell us a few things, we’d bevery grateful.’
