CHAPTER FORTY FIVE
Ella sat on a rock and tried not to think about how much everything hurt.
Her whole body was one big bruise. The adrenaline had worn off thirty minutes ago, and now she was paying for it. Every breath pulled at something that didn't want to be pulled. By tomorrow, she'd barely be able to move.
But relief sat comfortably beneath the pain, or just exhaustion that felt like relief.
At the scene below Helmsley Bridge, she watched the officers work their magic.
Bagging evidence. Taking photos. Building the case that would put Maxwell Tanner away for the rest of his miserable life.
Every piece of evidence collected was a step closer to closure for anyone whose lives had been altered by Maxwell Tanner.
Mia Ripley – the only female presence in her life that was still around – dislodged from the crowd of officers and came and sat next to her partner, shoulder to shoulder.
For a moment, no words were needed, because Ella knew Ripley was thinking the same thing she was – they couldn’t have done this solo.
‘Nice job, Dark.’
‘You too.’
‘Shame you didn’t drown him.’
‘There’s always next time,’ Ella said. ‘How was Lily?’
‘Fine, other than the fact her real name is Clementine.’
‘Clementine?’
‘Yeah. I can see why she called herself Lily.’
Ella shrugged. ‘It’s not that bad. I used to know a woman named Fanny.’
Ripley smirked. ‘You know in Europe, fannies are… actually, nevermind.’ Ripley eyed the wound on her partner’s forehead. ‘What the hell happened there?’
Ella dabbed the wound with her fingertips. A jolt of pain shot through her system. ‘Oh, this old thing? It’s just a… headache.’
‘Nothing a few aspirin won’t fix. But you should probably get to a hospital. Concussions come back to haunt you.’
The last thing Ella wanted was to spend more time in a doctor’s office, but Ripley was right, as per usual. ‘I know, I know. They might send me mad.’
‘It happens. It’s why NFL players die at forty. You’re getting pretty close to the red zone as it is.’
Ella chopped her in the arm. ‘Still younger than you. But yeah, Maxwell hit me with a rock. Sent me dizzy for a bit, and then he tried to hammer the life out of me.’
‘How’d you stop him?’
‘I talked him down.’
‘Really? How?’
Ella gestured to the water. ‘His manuscript talked about his sister and how she drowned when she was six. Maxwell blamed himself, and so he’s spent a whole career trying to come to terms with it.
He’s tried to master psychology to understand himself, to try and shed the guilt.
I just put two and two together. A murderous psychopath will only stop killing once they’ve addressed the primal need that makes them kill in the first place.
And since this was his final experiment, this place had to hold some personal meaning for him. ’
Ripley went silent for a moment. ‘And you told him all that? While he had a rock to your face?’
Ella laughed. ‘I paraphrased. Said something about loss and how the pain never goes away. I was just spitballing, to be honest.’
‘No you weren’t,’ she said.
‘What? Yes I was. Throw enough crap at the wall and some will stick.’
‘Dark, how many times do I need to tell you? You’re a terrible actress.’
Ella tried not to laugh, given the circumstances. Crime scenes and funerals were the two places you had to hold back your smirks. ‘Yup. Hollywood won’t be calling me anytime soon.’
Ripley plucked her phone from her pocket. ‘Nope, but the director probably will. Ready to head back and brief him on everything?’
Just as Ella was about to haul herself from her rock-turned-throne, two uniformed officers marched past with a bloody Maxwell Tanner in their clutches. He kept his gaze on the ground as they escorted him away from the lake, down the dirt path towards their waiting vehicle.
‘Won’t even look at you,’ Ripley said.
‘He will when I testify against him, the coward.’
Ripley pulled herself up. 'Probably won't have to. Bartram's already got his computer in the vault. His whole textbook is on there. Plus, we've got Lily's testimonial. The only way he's leaving prison is in a box.'
Ella's mind replayed the events that had led her to this moment. Maxwell Tanner's reign of terror was over, and while the physical scars would heal, the memories of this case would linger, as they always did.
Ella began the unnecessarily precarious process of disentangling herself from the rock that had been her makeshift chair. The pain from her temple stretched to every nerve in her body. ‘Jesus, that hurts,’ she said.
Ripley watched her nonchalantly. ‘You look like a newborn giraffe trying to stand up.’
‘You’re right, maybe I should see a doctor. Now let’s get out of here before I start sprouting moss.’
‘Roger that. By the way, needles? Why’d you never mentioned that before?’
Ella had been foolish to think Ripley would never find out about this. Still, Ripley didn’t know the full extent of it, and maybe it was time she did. ‘You know how you’re always asking about my memory?’
‘What, your encyclopedia of useless crap but occasionally the odd helpful thing?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Sure, and I still don’t understand it.’
‘Well, needles are how it started.’ Ella looked over at the lake. ‘Those images of my dad injecting my mom were the first things that were ever seared into my head. Ever that, it just became something I could do on command.’
‘Jesus, really?’
‘Really.’
‘You know what they say about clouds and silver linings.’ Ripley said. The words were rough but not unkind. Ella laughed.
‘Yup. At least something good came out of it, or close enough to good.’
‘Well, let’s get out of here. With any luck, we can be home before the sun comes up.’
Ella looked at the sky. One less monster in the world. One more case closed.
One more victory for the Ultra-Violent Crime Unit.
She’d take it.