‘I’m a monster.I have proof.’
‘This is the sickness talking.You haven’t left the house in weeks.’
‘How do you know?You’re not here all the time.’
‘The door is always locked,’ Ezra said.‘What things have you done?’
‘I need to run away.Another state.Maybe another country.’
‘You’re sick.That’s all,’ said Ezra.
'No,' Drago broke free of his grip.'I'm leaving today.I can't risk anyone else getting...hurt.'
Ezra scratched his weathered face and said, ‘I don’t understand.’
‘It’s best that you don’t.Now, please leave me to pack.I’m getting out of here.’
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
Ella stood in the eye of the storm.The machinery of justice was in full swing outside Bookshop Obscura.Uniformed officers, crime scene technicians, and a whole wad of spectators hanging just outside the door.If nothing else, this meant that Roger Blackwood wasn’t their killer.
But beneath the buzz of activity, a grim pall had settled.
She stared at William Kane's lifeless form – or what was left of it, anyway – and felt the familiar burn of failure gnawing at her guts.The Angel Maker had struck again, and she'd been a dollar short and a day late to stop him.Sure, she'd been on the right track.She'd sussed out his twisted script, followed the breadcrumbs right to William Kane's doorstep.But what good did that do the poor guy now, with his insides on the outside and a set of bootleg angel wings painted in his own blood?
Ripley sidled up beside her.‘Hell of a thing, isn’t it?'
‘Starting to think it’s too much of a thing for me.’
‘The hell's that supposed to mean?’
Between this slice of crazy and the Austin Creed situation, Ella was beginning to wonder why she still did this.Was it the money?The pension?She could live without both if it meant saving her sanity.
‘I don’t know, Mia.I feel like I’m losing it.’
‘Losing what?’
‘It.You found the dark web link.Ryland found a picture of our unsub.What did I do?Got here too damn late.Got three of my friends killed.’
‘Well, that's the stupidest thing I've heard all day.And earlier I heard Blythe try to explain the difference between a latte and a cappuccino.’
Despite herself, Ella felt her lip twitch.She wasn’t sure if Ripley was being serious or trying to make her laugh.She preferred to keep it that way.
She continued, 'Seriously, though, the blood in Kane's hair has barely dried.That means you were, what, five minutes too late?'
‘One second is too late.’
'You get into the mind of psychos.It's what you do.If you can't figure this asshole out, no one can.'
Ella wanted to believe her.Wanted to buy into that unshakable faith, wrap herself in it like a bulletproof vest.But the proof was in the pudding – or in this case, the cooling corpse at her feet.
'Tell that to Sophie, Martina, or Kane here.My profiling skills did jack to save them.'
‘Well, I hate to pile on, but I got some more bad news.The coroner didn’t find any manuscript pages down Martina’s throat, so no chance of fingerprints.And that image recognition search I did on LaChance?Came up empty.’
Ella wrapped a hand around her forehead.If she still had the capacity to cry, she would.
‘Perfect.The cherry on top.’
