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'Then we need anotherangle,' Ripley said.
'Yes, we do.' Ellaglanced around the room, searching for something to focus on, something toanchor her thoughts with. She was looking for a man within a thirty mile radiusnamed Chester, and the police database had thrown up twenty-five results. Shedidn't have time to go through each name one by one, because by the time shefinished, her killer might already have another victim in his sights.
Then, Ella spottedPenelope's diary.
An idea formed.
She homed in on theweathered black book laying in a plastic evidence bag in the center of theirtable—a ledger holding the mundane details of Penelope's appointments andclientele.
‘Here.’ Ella's fingerstwitched with anticipation as she retrieved the book, feeling its weight as ifit contained not just names, but secrets waiting to be unearthed. Ripleywatched intently as Ella flipped open the cover.
‘Let's see if ourmysterious Chester was more than just a fleeting shadow to Penelope,’ Ellamurmured, her eyes darting across the pages. She absorbed every entry, everyhastily scribbled note. The list was exhaustive, a year's worth of therapysessions cataloged with meticulous detail; yet, Chester's name wasconspicuously absent.
‘Dammit,’ Ellabreathed out. Each name seemed to taunt her, a reminder of the dead ends thathad plagued her since the start of this case.
‘Penelope was havingan affair with this guy, Dark. Why would his name be in her diary?'
‘They were colleagues,even if only for a short time. He has to be here somewhere. He has to be.’ Shecontinued to flip through the aging pages, certain that the name she needed washidden within the innocuous lines of text, waiting for the right eyes todecipher its significance.
'Penelope must havekept his number somewhere, but if she was seeing him on the side, she might notkeep it in her phone. Too risky with her husband about.'
Mia shot her aninquisitive look. 'Had some affairs of your own, have you?'
'No, but myroommate...'
'What about her?'
'She's been cockedmore times than your pistol. She always hides their names and numbers somewhereinnocuous, especially when they're not single.'
'Filth,' Ripley said.
'I don't approve, butI'm not going to deny reality...' Ella's voice faded as her focus narrowed, thepages of the diary blurring as she flipped faster, driven by a hunch that wasbecoming conviction.
Then, there it was.The back page of the ledger—usually reserved for final notes or summarythoughts—held a list of names and numbers, scribbled in a hurried hand. It wasas if Penelope had known the importance of concealing this information, hidingit in plain sight where it was least expected to be found.
'Here,' Ella called.'Names, numbers. Might have something
Her fingers stilled,the diary's brittle pages whispering secrets under her touch as she traced theline of names. Some were full names, some were just first names, some werebusiness names.
And one was a set ofinitials.
Their simplicityjumped off the page.
C.L., followed by a cell number.
A sliver of hopepierced through the exasperation clouding her mind. Penelope's daughter's voiceechoed in her memory. I don’t know his last name. It began with an L,something like Lawley or Lawford or something.
‘Ripley, look atthis,’ Ella said. Ripley leaned over her shoulder, squinting at the scrawledletters.
'C.L. Didn't Madisonsay that Chester's last name started with an L?'
'Yes, she did.'
Ripley slapped Ella onthe shoulder. 'I guess I was wrong.'
Wasting no time, Ellasnatched up the phone and punched in the number into the police database, herpracticed fingers blurring across the keys. Seconds stretched interminablyuntil the screen populated with information, and there it was—Chester Lawler.
Ella clenched her handinto a ball. ‘Got him,’ she said.
