‘The white one.You could probably fix it.Some of the shards might still be in her face.’
Ella’s brain couldn’t place the words into any meaningful order.She’d spent three hours constructing worst-case scenarios even after their phone conversation, and now he was standing here apologizing about a mug.
‘I couldn’t care less about the mug.What the hell happened?’
‘You want the short version?’
‘Any version!’
‘She came in pretending to fix the alarm.She had a toolbox, a clipboard, the whole thing.I let her in because I’m an idiot.Some things didn’t add up though.You ever known a tradesmen not take sugar?’
‘No.’
‘Exactly.She pulled a gun on me in the kitchen.Then the coffee machine did that thing — you know, that ping you hate — and she looked away.So I rushed her.I got the gun off her, broke her wrist, I think.Hit her with the mug, then it was curtains.’
He said it the way he said everything: plainly and without drama, as though he were describing a trip to the hardware store that had gone slightly sideways.
‘She pulled a gun?She talked to you?’
‘She talked alright.It was a Glock 19 she had too.Nice gun, actually.We should use them at work.’
‘Hawkins, this isn’t funny.’
Luca poked the laceration on his palm.‘It’s a little bit funny.’
It wasn’t.None of this was funny.But Ella could feel the laugh building in her chest anyway.Luca had done it.‘And the woman.It was definitely… her?’
Luca tilted his head to the left.‘Take a look for yourself.’
Ella turned.
The second cruiser was parked ten feet away, angled toward the street.The rear windows were tinted but not enough.Ella could see her clearly.
There she was.Lindsey Doyle.The woman who’d caused all of this.
She was in the back seat with her hands cuffed in front of her.The side of her face that Ella could see was a mess.Swollen, lacerated.Her hair was dark now — dyed, Ella realized, dyed to throw off anyone who’d memorized the photos — and it hung in wet strands across her forehead.
Doyle was staring straight ahead with the vacant, inward expression of someone whose plan had derailed and who was still computing the implications.
Then her eyes moved.
They found Ella across the parking lot and locked on.
Ella had always had a love-hate relationship with this moment.It was the moment when you realized that the monster you were hunting wasn't some mythical being or criminal genius.They were pathetically human and had the scars to prove it.She'd imagined there'd be fury when this moment came, but Ella felt no such sensation.This was the culmination of six months of paranoia and three dead friends.Five dead friends if her attacks on Ripley and Luca had been successful.
‘You gonna talk to her?’
Before Ella could respond, one of the officers came over to her.‘Excuse me, ma’am, you live at this address too?’
‘Yes I do.’
‘Your partner has filled you in on the details?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you know this woman?The offender?’
‘Do I know her?’Ella repeated.
