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“Sheriff!” Ella called as she barged into his office upstairs. Sheriff Hale was hunched over a mountain of files, eyes heavy, forehead creased with worry. His hands were clasped together, as if praying for the strength to persevere. “Sheriff, I need your help.”
The man lifted his eyes from the paperwork, looking a little taken aback by the sudden intrusion. “Ella. What’s wrong?”
Her stomach was a bubbling pit of anxiety. If she had this wrong, she was ready to give this all up, go back to the Intelligence department, spend the rest of her days behind a desk. Every pushback gnawed her at soul, and one day it might just eat her up from the inside. This was her last shot, at least for now.
“Remember when we met the other day? At the Securicall Storage place?”
“Yeah. What about it?”
“You told me something. You said you dealt with an acid attack recently. Some young girl left disfigured with sores. Remember?”
Sheriff Hale unclasped his hands and stood up. “Yes, of course. Terrible case. I told you about it?”
“Only the basics, but I need the finer details. When did this happen?”
The sheriff leaned over his desk. “About three months ago. Why?”
Ella ignored the larger question. “What happened exactly?”
“A completely random attack. A young girl was walking home. A car pulled up, threw acid on her, ran off.”
Ella had to breathe off the rising fury. The details enraged her, but she reminded herself that if she was right, she’d find herself face to face with the perpetrator, and she’d do a lot worse than scald him with acid.
“Name and address of the victim?”
The sheriff sat back down at his computer and pulled up the local database. He typed, waited, typed again. “Here. Melissa Wall. Thirty years old. Lives at 311 Wildermoore Avenue.”
“Alone?”
The sheriff squinted his eyes. “Yes.”
Ella felt it. Embraced it. The signs pointed to this.
“I don’t mean to sound like a heartless bitch, but how serious was the attack?”
“From what I remember, not life threatening. Her wounds will heal within a year.”
“Not life threatening?” Ella asked. “She was burned. If no one had intervened, surely she’d have died.”
The sheriff nodded. “You’re way ahead of me. There was a strange anomaly. Someone called the paramedics immediately.”
Another piece of the puzzle slotted in place. “He did it. Whoever burned her did it.”
“We wondered that too, but why?”
“Because he didn’t want to kill her. He just wanted to test her.” Ella rushed around to the other side of the desk and scanned the details on screen. She memorized the woman’s name, address, basic information. As she got deeper into the notes, something stood out amongst the wall of text. A word she’d heard not too long ago.
“She was burned with… perfluoroalkyl?”
“Yeah. Some kind of chemical.”
Her pulse went from a heavy metal drumbeat to a pneumatic drill in a flash. Exhilaration sent her knees quivering. She could barely stand still.
“Church goer?” Ella asked.
“Absolutely not,” Sheriff Hale said. “One of our guys tried to talk her into going to mental health classes at the church and she told him where to go. I’ll never forget the look on his face.”
“Sheriff, you’re the best,” Ella said as she made for the door. “You’re going to catch this guy, alright?”
