‘You want another body tomorrow night?’
‘No.’
‘Then this is the best way to do it.Our unsub took his victims’ phones for a reason, and he’s smart enough to know that we’ll devour everything on his new victim’s cell.The longer we leave it, the more chance he has of escaping.’
The fire and charred cabin were now reduced to a mere memory.Ella had a short window of opportunity to intercept this unsub, because there was nothing stopping him packing his bags and moving to another state, country, continent.She had to act now.
‘You’re playing with fire,’ Ripley said.
Ella looked back at the smoldering wreck, then at her partner.She hadn’t registered the pun.‘Give the pathologist a call.’
‘Yeah.I’ll get the body fast-tracked.’
‘Keep me updated,’ Ella said.
The killer had made a crucial error, and it was up to Ella to unravel the tangled web of deceit and madness he’d woven.The night might have ended, but the battle against the darkness had just begun.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
Ella was an hour deep into dissecting the digital fragments of Rebecca Morgan’s life, yet the normalcy of it all was maddening.
Rebecca’s cell phone sat connected to Ella’s laptop, now an open book of secrets, and its contents were spilling out in a stream of texts, calls, and emails.
Ella’s eyes were weary from the relentless glare of the monitor.She rubbed her temples to thwart off a screen-induced headache while the minutes ticked down at what felt like triple speed.Judging by the phone contents, Rebecca Morgan had an active social life.There were messages filled with the mundane chatter of daily existence, conversations peppered with plans for coffee dates, reminders for grocery shopping, and weekend getaways.
She’d devoured every conversation in Rebecca’s phone going back three months, from her regular text messages to her online apps to her social media messages.So far, the only red flag had been the complete lack of male associates in Rebecca’s world, because Ella was yet to meet a good looking twenty-something woman that didn’t welcome the occasional slab of romantic attention.Rebecca, by contrast, seemed to shun that component of youthful custom.Instead, her messages were filled with empty chatter about TV shows and brunches, as well as an alarming use of emojis that Ella’s system annoyingly transcribed as unreadable characters.
Turning to Rebecca's email account yielded no more success than her texts.The emails were a blend of typical day-to-day communications: promotional deals, work correspondence, and an occasional chain mail from a well-meaning but out-of-touch aunt.Nothing that hinted at a secret life or a connection to someone who could be the killer.
With a sigh of frustration, Ella moved on to Rebecca's photo gallery.Maybe there was something in the images that the words missed.She scrolled through a timeline of Rebecca's life captured in pixels: selfies with radiant smiles, snapshots of sunsets and landscapes, candid moments with friends, a parade of cat pictures.
Among the innocuous images, Ella stumbled upon a few X-rated snaps.She paused with a flush of discomfort.These were not meant for her eyes.Yet, as inappropriate as it felt, every detail could be crucial.Ella scanned the photos quickly, searching for any background details or faces, but found nothing out of place or informative.Perhaps Ella had been wrong about the romantic thing.
Frustration knotted in Ella's stomach.She was looking for a needle in a haystack, but the haystack seemed to be made of needles.She couldn't shake the feeling that the answer was buried somewhere within these digital threads, that there was a secret lurking just beneath the surface of Rebecca's ordinary world.
Time was slipping away, and with it, the chances of preventing another tragedy.Perhaps the forensics team or Sanchez could land on a piece of evidence that could lead eventually lead them to their unsub, but Ella knew the lengths that a psychopathic mind could stoop to to evade capture.She had no doubt that at this very moment, her killer was venting his frustration somewhere, planning his next move, whatever that might be.When a psycho was against the wall, they went one of two ways; either they went nuclear or they disappeared.Ella didn’t like the sound of either option.
Ella's next step was a deep dive into the lesser-trod areas of Rebecca's digital life.She accessed the file explorer, sifted through folders of data files, and scrutinized each one for anything out of the ordinary.
She was drawn to a folder of deleted items.
There, amongst discarded drafts and forgotten downloads, Ella found a collection of voice recordings.She isolated them, opened up the most recent one in her media player.
Forty seconds long.A woman’s voice, talking about her apparently perverted boss.
Ella discarded it and moved onto the next one.Another female voice, one minute and twenty seconds long, complaining about her husband’s lack of stamina.
Typical, Ella thought, but still no use to her.
She worked her way through each recording, straining her ears for any oddity.A recording of a cat's meow, a brief memo about a scheduled dentist appointment, a quick conversation about a yoga class – none of it seemed relevant.Ella’s eyes were heavy, her mind clouded with exhaustion, but she pressed on.
As she played the next recording, her attention sharpened.
A woman’s voice; slight New York twang mixed with a modern valley girl inflection.
It’s raining down fire, blocking every exit.I can feel the flames, smoke is blinding me.My mom is in bed and I’m screaming at her, begging her to wake up.But...she doesn’t move.
Ella shot upright in her chair.What the hell was this?
