CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
Ella’s world had contracted to this underground vault where someone had tried to give a man wings, and she’d been staring at Joseph Carpenter's blood-feathered wings for so long they'd started to blur. The basement hummed with activity as forensics teams worked their patterns, but she stood motionless at the center of the storm.
Her brain kept circling the same questions: what did any of this mean? Did it even mean anything? Or was she just looking at flayed skin and a visible spine? This killer had taken a blade to this poor man’s flesh and carved wings that spread six feet in either direction. Could she figure out what this killer wanted if she looked hard enough, or was this empty sadism with no message behind it?
Luca's hand found her shoulder, and his touch carried voltage she couldn't quite process. The contact felt off, like her skin had forgotten how to interpret human warmth.
‘Ell, you haven’t moved in an hour.’
Had it been that long? Her legs suddenly remembered they were attached to burns that hadn't fully healed. The pain came rushing back like it had been waiting for an invitation.
‘Just... thinking.’
‘I got that. Are you okay?’
The question hit a nerve she didn't want to examine. Their argument outside the interrogation room still echoed in her head. All that stuff about her being jealous, about not letting him have his wins. Maybe he was right. Maybe she was just another collector, desperately holding onto something that wasn't really hers anymore.
‘I don’t know. Are you?’
‘Not really.’ He pointed to a small pile of smashed glass in the corner of the room. ‘Our guy’s stayed true to his ritual. Took another item. Broke it right out of the case.’
Ella had registered the pile of glass but hadn’t given it much thought. Now she looked, the top compartment of a glass cabinet was noticeably empty.
‘Took his prized possession. Maybe it was the crucifix Thorne mentioned.’
‘Could be.’
A forensics tech called out something about blood spatter analysis. Someone else mentioned defensive wounds - or rather, the lack thereof. Joseph hadn't fought back. Just like Eleanor. Just like Alfred. Their killer had a way of making people compliant before he transformed them into human collectibles.
Human collectibles, she repeated in her head.
‘He brought his tools again, and he clearly knows how to use them.’
‘You’re not kidding,’ Luca said. ‘This is butchery, but it’s far from surgical. Look at those cuts. He really dug in there.’
‘Chances are he used a serrated blade. Anyone with experience knows to use a smooth edge to cut skin. We can rule out butcher or surgeon as a job.’
‘He’d make a shit tattooist.’
‘Hawkins,’ Ella barked. ‘Can you not joke just for one second? This is a God damn crime scene.’
Her partner took a step back in shock. A camera flash turned the basement briefly white, catching gold and silver in the display cases.
‘Are you still pissed at me about earlier?’
‘No, I just-‘
'Well, sorry for trying to make you smile, for once.'
She knew he was just trying to look out for her. Knew he cared, in his own emotionally constipated way. But right now, his worry felt like sandpaper on sunburned skin.
‘What do you want me to say?’ She kept her voice low, mindful of the occasional uniform still milling around. ‘That we’ve got a guy who’s killing one person a day? That we’ve got three bodies and jack shit to go on? Yes, this perp is in my head. Happy?’
‘In your head is fine. Letting him set up shop and redecorate is the problem.’
‘What am I supposed to do? Some of us can’t just switch off and pretend there isn’t a dead man with angel wings in the corner.’ Her voice drew more attention than she intended. A few sets of eyeballs turned her way.
‘There’s nothing I can do about that. Even if we did everything right, this might still have happened. You’re doing that thing where you think you can save everybody.’
Ella's fists clenched at her sides. It was an effort not to start swinging. ‘You saying I can't handle this?’
'I'm saying no one could!' Luca cast a meaningful glance at what was left of Joseph Carpenter. 'We're not magic. Maybe you ought to step back before you drown because I know what you're like when you're frustrated.'
‘ Know what I’m like? Seriously?’
Luca looked like he wanted to argue. Like keeping her sane was an oath he'd sworn in blood. But he also knew her tells better than anyone, and he clearly knew when she'd hit that brick wall of pure stubborn that no amount of reasonable discourse could chip.
He exhaled slow through his nose. Giving ground but not surrendering. Not yet. ‘Just remember to come up for air sometimes. I'm out here with a life preserver when you need it. Why don’t you head back?’
‘Head back? Where? Home?’
Luca froze. ‘Do you want to head home?’
Ella felt Luca's words like a slap. Head back? Leave the scene before they'd even bagged the body? The suggestion turned her blood to lava. Maybe this was just his version of letting her down easy. The it's not you, it's me of crime scene protocol.
‘You saying that I should just, what, take a little breather while you handle the big boy stuff ?’
Luca's jaw worked like he was physically chewing over each word before letting it escape. 'That's not - Jesus, Ell. I meant to head back to the station. Talk to Thorne, tell him he's officially off the hook for this one.'
‘No, you're right. Maybe I should just head back to D.C. Since I'm obviously getting in your way.’
‘That's not what I-’
'Because clearly, I'm just getting in your way. Just another jealous senior agent who can't let the rookie spread his wings.'
Every face in the room turned her way. The anger in her veins downshifted to a low simmer, but embarrassment rushed in to fill the gap.
‘Great choice of words, Ell.’
She turned toward the stairs, ignoring the looks from the forensics team. ‘You know what? You're right. I'll go tell Thorne he's innocent. You handle things here. Since you've got it all figured out.’
‘Ella, wait-’
He said something else, but the blood in her ears drowned it out.
The worst part about all this is that Luca was probably right. About Thorne, about her needing air, about all of it. But right now, that just made it worse.
Not because she didn’t want him to be right. Hell, she didn’t care if she was right. She just wanted someone to be wrong with her, wanted someone to share the darkness instead of dragging her into the light.
She hit the front door at full steam and let the December night swallow her whole. Let Luca have his scene. Let him play senior agent for a while.
She had her own theory to chase.
Human collectibles.