AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘Madison, we’re goingto do everything we can to find out who did this to your mom. She cast a glancetowards Ripley, a silent signal that it was time to step back, to give Madisona moment to properly grieve.
‘Please do,’ Madisonsobbed.
Ella nodded hergoodbyes and turned away.
But even with threebodies and three identical crime scenes to draw on, Ella felt she was no closerto understanding the mind behind the madness.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Ella was in heroffice, lost in Phoenix Rising Therapy’s employment records. She’d scouredthrough every name and job title that had come through their doors in the pastfive years but couldn’t find any mention of a Chester.
Her fingers halted,hovering over the keyboard with a tremor of frustration. The screen before herwas a sea of names, none holding the answer she sought. Could Madison'srecollection be flawed? Memories are malleable, after all. But this Chester, ifhe existed, could be the key they were missing. Ella clenched her jaw, staringat the monitor as if sheer will might manifest the elusive name from thedigital depths.
‘Anything?’ Mia askedfrom across the table.
‘Nothing,’ Ellaresponded. ‘No records of anyone named Chester according to their employmentrecords.’
‘Maybe he neverexisted,’ Mia offered. 'Madison might have gotten his name wrong.'
Ella shook her head,not willing to accept that conclusion yet. The lack of a Chester was one issue,but her mind was still grappling with the enigma that was her unsub.
The tape they'dunearthed portrayed a man in agony, pleading for some semblance of salvation –a cure for his violent urges. And yet, his trail was marked by the bodies ofthose who sought to help him. What twisted logic drove him to kill thetherapists that had been entrusted to help him?
'Could be dealing withsomething new here,' Ella said, her gaze drifting from the computer to thephotograph pinned to her corkboard. The photograph of Penelope Olson and herdaughter was still silent, yet it screamed questions into the muted light of theoffice.
‘New how?’ Miaquestioned.
‘An offender profilewe haven't cataloged yet.’ Ella stood, pacing the confines of her crampedspace. ‘What drives someone to kill the very people trying to treat them? Didsomething these therapists said trigger him? Is it something they represent?'
She paused, hands onher hips, as she stared at the photo again. Penelope's smile seemed so genuine,her daughter's innocence untouched by the shadow of death that would soon fallover their family. Why couldn't she shake the image from her mind?
‘Maybe it's not aboutthe cure at all,’ Mia suggested, following Ella's gaze to the photograph.‘Maybe it's everything they represent – hope, healing... things hecan't ever have.’
‘Perhaps.’ Ella's eyesnarrowed in thought, the cogs in her brain turning furiously. ‘But what if it'smore specific than that? There has to be a reason, a trigger.’
‘Or, like I said,'Ripley began, 'there's a chance he's doing this because he's a sociopath.Sometimes, the simplest answers are the right ones. It's possible he gets offon the violence, Dark. He's not looking for a cure; he's seeking justificationfor his actions.’
‘You think he's lyingabout wanting to be cured?’ Ella slumped back in her chair and scratched theback of her head. There was a violent itch there, and Ella made a mental noteto cleanse her hair with some cheap motel shampoo when she got the chance.
‘Yeah.’ Mia leanedforward. ‘He blames them for not fixing what can't be fixed. He's incurable,and deep down, he knows it. But admitting that would mean taking responsibilityfor his actions. And if there's one thing serial killers love, it's skirting responsibility.’
Ella mulled over Mia'swords, feeling the unease twist in her gut. A killer masking his true naturebehind a veil of feigned desperation—it made sense, yet Ella couldn't shake thenotion that they were missing something critical, something hidden beneath thesurface of the killer's rage.
‘Have you made anyheadway finding Chester?’ Mia's inquiry broke into Ella's thoughts, redirectingher attention to another dead end in their investigation.
‘No,’ Ella admittedwith a sigh, turning back to the computer screen that displayed the employmentrecords of Phoenix Rising Therapy. ‘There's no trace of him. It's as if he's aghost.’
‘Could he have used adifferent name?’ Mia suggested, 'Chester is sometimes shortened to Chet. OrCharles in some cases.'
'I tried all thevariations I could think of,' Ella said.
‘Maybe they scrubbedhim out,’ Ripley suggested, her voice slicing through the thick air of thecramped space, now cluttered with case files and foam coffee cups. ‘If he wasonly there temporarily, no one would remember him after all this time, and hewouldn't be part of their official roster.'
'True.'
'Could we try theirfinancials? Their taxes? Or we could just call them up?'
'Too late. They shuttheir doors an hour ago, and I don't want to have to wait until tomorrow to getto the bottom of this. Financials are possible, but that'll take even longer.'
