AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Ella started pacingthe destroyed room. It was all morphing in front of her, the killer'spsychological landscape shifting like quicksand under her feet.
‘Why weren't officersguarding Banks's place? I thought we had people there.’
'Too early,' Ripleysaid, 'but those kinds of questions won't help us. We need to figure out wherehe's gone. This is a drastic change in M.O.'
Ella leaned againstthe wall, panic electrifying her from head to toe. 'He's never taken a victimaway from the scene before. What's different now? What's so special about thisone?' Ella's brain was a machine at full throttle, connecting dots, drawing lines,forming a web of logic from chaos.
Ripley began siftingthrough the debris. 'I don't know, but we need to find him. The longer we spendhere, the more chance we have of another body falling in our laps.'
Ella started to movethrough the room again, her eyes scanning the chaos for anything they mighthave missed, anything that could give them a clue to where he might have takenGail Banks. Her brain was on fire, aligning pieces with precision. Gail Banks,could she be the maternal stand-in the unsub has been craving?
But where would hetake her? A place of comfort, familiarity—somewhere embedded deep within hisfractured psyche.
Ella's gaze turnedinward as much as it raked the room once more, desperation fueling hermovements.
'Think, Ripley,' Ellasaid. 'Our unsub is stunted emotionally, locked in the perpetual nightmare ofhis childhood. He wouldn't venture into unknown territory. He couldn't. He'dstay somewhere familiar, somewhere he could control.' Ella's hands moved almostof their own accord, flipping over debris, searching for anything, picking upphotographs - all featuring Cassandra Sawyer - and discarding them. Where woulda scared child run and hide?
Then, beneath thepillow of what once was her killer's bed, her fingers brushed against somethingout of place—a photograph.
Her breath hitched asshe extracted it, her hands trembling as though holding the very heart of themystery.
The photograph was ananomaly, a shard of normalcy amid the chaos. It depicted a tranquil scene, onestarkly different from the tumultuous memories scattered around the room.Ella's eyes widened as she absorbed the image. In the foreground, a young boy, unmistakablyhim, clung to a woman's hand—presumably his mother's, their smiles as bright asthe sun overhead.
And in the backgroundwas a place Ella was already familiar with.
She thought back to adetail of the case she hadn't given much attention to.
The realizationslammed into her like a tidal wave.
‘Ripley,’ Ella said.She extended her hand, the photograph quivering between her fingertips. Ripleystepped closer, her eyes widening as she took in the sight.
'The only thing inhere not destroyed,' Ripley said as she inspected the frame.
‘Where would a scaredchild run to hide?’ Ella said.
It was as if the worldhad shrunk to the space between Ella and her partner. The image between her, astatic frame of the Pierhead Lighthouse, seemed to pulsate with significance,its stark white tower and red cap standing sentinel over the rocky coastline.
'Here?' Ripley asked.'Why here?'
It was crystal clear.The edges of her reality began to blur, the room around her dimming as ifovertaken by a creeping fog. The image in her mind became a gateway, a tear inthe fabric of the present that pulled her into another time, another existence.She was no longer standing in the wreckage of a broken home but was transportedto a realm of memories, not her own.
With heart-wrenchingclarity, Ella understood.
She knew without ashadow of a doubt where he had taken Gail Banks.
Ella was already atthe door.
'Trust me,' she said.
They had to act fastbecause it was only a matter of time before the unsub realized that Gail Bankswasn't the mother he wanted her to be.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Ella pressed the phonefirmly to her ear as Ripley expertly navigated the twisting, rain-slickedstreets of Sturgeon Bay. The relentless torrent of rain battered against thewindshield, turning the world into a blurred, monochromatic vista. The car'swipers worked overtime, moving back and forth in a futile attempt to clear thedeluge that obscured their view.
'Chief,' Ella saiddown the phone. 'Pierhead Lighthouse. What are the chances it'll be heavingwith people right now?’
‘Negative,’ cameCaldwell's crackling reply over the line, barely audible above the thrummingrain. ‘It depends on the ships coming in. Maybe the odd fisherman, but inweather like this it'll be deserted. Why?’
