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‘But there’s an old saying in law enforcement. If criminal damage doesn’t do the trick, stealing evidence will.’ Ripley pulled out a roll of film and threw it in Ella’s lap. She uncurled it and looked through the negatives one by one.
‘In Hell,’ Ella laughed.
‘The only copy. I swiped it from the evidence after cops cleaned Harry’s place out.’
‘You did? That’s a misdemeanorin’.’
Ripley shrugged. ‘Maybe. Daniels said it wasn’t really evidence. He already has everything he needs to lock both Harry and Curtis up for a long time.’
Ella rerolled the film and put it in her bag. ‘Good riddance to crap artists. Curtis is talking?’
'No, but he set up cameras on the sound stage. Cops have the whole scene on tape.'
Ella reached for her drink. ‘Of course. He filmed every other kill. He had to capture this one too.’
‘You know, I still don’t understand that guy’s motivations. Most serial killers we catch fall into boxes, but Curtis Madden is… alien.’
Ella had given the idea some thought since her ordeal came to an end, and she’d reached a similar conclusion. ‘I think he was pulled between two different personalities. One side of him wanted to be a creator, the other side of him wanted to tribute his true love - horror films. I think he craved attention, but serial killers can’t get attention unless they’re caught. That’s why he was drawn to thisDirectorcharacter, because through that alter ego, he could do a both. He could be a monster but an anonymous one whilst boasting of his special effects skills at the same time.'
‘You know Dark, I used to love criminal psychology, but these days they fall into one of two categories – alive assholes or dead assholes.’
‘Four months,’ Ella said. ‘Four months until you never have to profile anyone again.’
Ripley checked her watch. ‘Bring it on.’
An announcement declared that the two AM flight to Reagan International in Washington D.C. was ready for boarding. The agents collected their bags and trudged towards their terminal.
‘Ready to go home?’
Ella was in two minds. She, too, couldn't wait to leave Maywood to its own devices, but she knew what awaited her on the other side.
Logan Nash. Possible assassination by Logan and his group. FBI misconduct. Certain punishment once Logan’s case went to trial.
But she wasn’t about to hide from her problems. She took a deep breath and looked at Ripley, her steely resolve showing through her exhausted eyes. ‘I am ready to face whatever comes next. Maywood was one chapter, and that chapter has ended. Now, it's time to face the next challenge. I’ll handle Logan and whatever storm he brings.’
Ripley nodded in agreement, her own determination evident. ‘We’llhandle whatever storm he brings. We’re in this together, remember?’
Ella offered a brief smile, ‘You think after all we've faced, I'd be used to this by now. The adrenaline, the risks. But Logan... he's a different kind of monster.’
As they reached the boarding gate, Ella looked back one last time at the bustling airport lounge. The bright California lights felt a world away from the darkness that had engulfed them over the past days.
The film might be over, Ella thought, but she didn’t know what was hiding in the end credits.
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
Mia found her front door unlocked, and inside, the smell of fresh coffee and sizzling bacon made a welcome change from her usual lemony air freshener. She was momentarily taken aback by the unexpected coolness, having braced herself for a sweaty and humid entry.
The sounds of light jazz emanated from the living room, and she spotted Martin in the kitchen, his back to her.
Her new flame – with his trademark blue shirt and athletic build despite him being in his late fifties – was humming along with the jazz tune, clearly lost in his culinary endeavor.
Mia leaned against the door frame, watching him with a hint of a smile on her face. ‘Someone's in a good mood this morning.’
Martin glanced out of the window, keeping his back to the new arrival. ‘Mia Ripley, I’ve been expecting you,’ he said as he spun around, his hazel eyes lighting up.
She arched an eyebrow. ‘At this hour? I thought you’d still be asleep.’
‘Perks of dating a night owl,’ Martin laughed. ‘Sit down. Breakfast time.’
