Girl, Vanished (An Ella Dark FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 5)

by Blake Pierce

  Ella lowered her voice to a whisper. “I got us this far and I’m going to get us further. Just wait around the corner. If he runs, I’ll call you. At that point we take him in.”

  Nigel rubbed his temples in a display of frustration. “Fine. Do whatever you want.” He took one last look at the suspect and walked off back towards the street. Just what I need, she thought, another problem to deal with. If Mia was here, she’d have caught Ella’s vibe, rolled with it and changed tactics if it didn’t work. Byford worked by the book, and if there was something Ella had learned in her short career, it was that protocol wasn’t always gospel.

  Once he was out of earshot, Ella offered Daniel some assistance.

  “Want a hand getting up?”

  Daniel took a moment. “Okay.” He reached out his hand. Ella took it and hauled him from his sitting position to his feet. She held his shoulders to steady him.

  “Feel alright?”

  “Yeah, thanks. That fall though.”

  “It looked pretty bad. I’m sorry. I didn’t want it to happen like that.”

  “Your partner’s a douchebag,” Daniel said as he pushed his hair off his face. He let go of Ella and composed himself. He checked his balance by walking on his tiptoes.

  “So, I helped you. You have to help me. I need you to be honest with me, alright?”

  “I’m being honest. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Want to tell me what happened with you and your professor last year?”

  Daniel leaned against the tree and adjusted his hoodie. He pulled his jeans up and checked the contents of his pockets. “I had an episode. That’s it.”

  “An episode?”

  “Yeah. A manic episode. I worked my ass off on that project and he just told me it sucked. That’s what triggered it.”

  “So your response was to attack him? That isn’t normal behavior, even for a manic episode,” Ella said. “Be honest with me.”

  Daniel covered his mouth with his hand and breathed through the cracks in his fingers. “Okay. You want honesty? I wanted to kill him like the Santerians would have. Happy? That’s why I hauled ass when you knocked on my door. I heard the guy’s name and it just… triggered everything. I thought the professor had gone to the cops to press charges or whatever.”

  There it was. Ella felt the sincerity of every syllable. His inflection changed. His tone was a little more relaxed. The sound of truth.

  “But why? Why did you want to kill Professor Cole? Because of a bad grade?”

  “Not a bad grade. A total rejection. And you gotta understand, I’d been reading about that shit for years. It was my escape from my shitty life. Some of it got lodged in my brain, alright? I thought killing the professor would be some kind of… I don’t know… poetic justice.”

  “And you don’t follow the religion anymore?” asked Ella.

  “Follow it? Hell no. I never believed any of it. It was cool, but it was obviously all bullshit.”

  Ella felt the sincerity again. She watched his body language closely and saw no emotional or mental barriers in place. He genuinely didn’t follow the religion, and perhaps never did. The chances of him being this killer were looking less likely by the second.

  “Are you aware there were two recent murders, both of which looked like something straight from a Santerian execution?”

  “What?” Daniel asked. “Murders? Santerian? You gotta be shitting me.”

  “I’m not. We have two men, both discovered dead in their homes with coins around their eyes.”

  The suspect’s bottom lip began to quiver. In some people, that was a sign of guilt or an incoming confession. But Daniel kept his cool. “That’s insane. How were they killed?”

  “Throats were slashed.”

  “Crap. Well, that’s nasty, but I had nothing to do with it. Swear on my life.”

  “You understand how much of a coincidence this is?” Ella asked. Right now, she was three-quarters sure Daniel wasn’t her man, but she needed evidence to take it to a whole. “A Santerian obsessive living a few miles from these murders. It’s hard for us to look past.”

  Daniel began to pace. If he ran in the next few seconds, he was guilty. Ella kept a close eye on the direction his feet were facing.

  “When were they killed?”

  “April 27 and April 30. Sometime around one in the morning.”

  Daniel backed up against the tree again. He looked back over the trees towards his house. “Last week?”

  “Yes.”

  “It couldn’t have been me. I was at my dad’s house in Greensboro. Me and all my brothers.”

  “Really? You can verify that?” Greensboro was about three states away. Not impossible to get back from, but unlikely, Ella thought.

  Daniel clenched his fist in success. “Yes! I still got my bus ticket too. Ask anyone. Dad, brothers, uncle. We even have some videos from the week.”

  “We’ll need to see them, okay? It’s not that I don’t believe you, but we need evidence to exclude you.”

  “I get it. I’ll show you everything.”

  “We’ll send an officer to your home to get them. Please tell your mom to expect him,” Ella said. She felt a twinge of disappointment that she’d come so close only to reach a dead end, but in another way, she was glad that Daniel wasn’t her culprit. He seemed to be a lost soul still searching for his place in the world. She felt sympathy for him, not pity or disgust. She would probably never see him again, but she didn’t want to see his potential go to waste.

  “Yeah, she’s a bitch sometimes. Can you show me any crime scene photos?” he asked.

  Ella couldn’t quite believe his boldness. “Afraid not. That’s confidential.”

  Daniel stuffed his hands in his pockets. He bent his shoulder back and it cracked loudly. “Ouch. Well, can I just ask one question?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “You said you found the coins in the guys’ eyes right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Heads or tails?”

  “Very funny.”

  “No, I mean it. Which side was showing outwards?”

  Now that Ella thought about it, she didn’t know. That wasn’t something she thought was necessary, but now that Daniel mentioned it, it could be an important factor. “Damn, I don’t actually know. Let me check.”

  She pulled out her phone, swiping away a few messages from Mark in the process. She pulled up the crime scene photo she needed.

  “Heads.”

  “Aha. Well, you need to research better, because Santerians don’t show heads.”

  Ella couldn’t quite believe she hadn’t taken that part into account. It was probably crucial to his ritual. She silently cursed herself. “They don’t?”

  “Nu-huh. When they make sacrifices, it’s always the tail side that faces outward. It’s symbolic. They want the hounds of hell constantly chasing their sacrifices in the afterlife. The demons of hell chase your tail, you see?”

  “Oh, damn. I didn’t know that. Thank you for clearing that up.” That changed everything, Ella thought. Maybe she’d been on a wrong path from the start with this theory. And to think that poor Daniel was almost killed because of her ideas. Shame knotted up her stomach like a coiled snake and for a second, she couldn’t look the boy in the eye. She was ready to scratch off everything and start again from new, as much as it would hurt to do so.

  “Yeah, and throat slitting? Another no-no. Santerians cut their victims through the heart. Never anything else.”

  Another blow, but by now, a welcome one. Ella needed to get back and collect her thoughts. “Thank you, Daniel. You’ve been a great help, and I’m sorry about my partner. Shall we head back?”

  They began walking back from where they came. “Sure. Don’t worry about your partner. Shit happens. I’ll be around when the cops come. And good luck with everything.”

  “You too. And please, go back and finish your studies when you’re allowed. Don’t waste it.”

  “Ha.
Can’t afford it. You’ve seen where I live, right? I had a scholarship and blew it. Lost my shit, lost my scholarship. Simple as.”

  “Go to another school. I grew up in a dive too, but my studies got me out of there. You don’t have to be a prisoner of your past.” Ella spotted Byford waiting in their cruiser at the edge of the road. “Here’s my ride. We’ll be in touch shortly.”

  Daniel waved bye and walked past towards his home, ignoring Byford in the vehicle. Ella got in.

  “Back to square one,” she said. “Come on, I’m ready to rest.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Ella checked into the motel two streets away from the precinct. The clerk behind the desk handed her a key and told her that breakfast was served between six and nine. Byford was still at the precinct finishing some things off, but she’d hit a wall for the day. She could think no more, so decided it was time to get some rest.

  She took the stairs for the exercise, noting the rich mahogany banisters on her way up. The motel was only a two-story building, probably with around fifty rooms in total. So far, she hadn’t seen another soul, only a clerk and a parking assistant. When she came to her floor, she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket, already knowing what name was flashing on her screen. Since she hadn’t replied to his last message, he’d sent her more messages than she thought possible. She’d only been away for a day, and he was already on her like a greyhound on a rabbit. It was all getting a bit much, even at this early stage.

  Ella swiped her keycard in the door and entered her living quarters for the foreseeable future. She had a single bed, a nightstand, and a TV angled in the high corner of the wall. There were some questionable style decisions dotted around, particularly the red and yellow drapes, but she didn’t plan on spending a whole lot of time here anyway. Starting tomorrow, she had to crack this thing open. She had the knowledge and the skills to do it; she just needed to apply it.

  She floored her bags then sat on the bed. Again, her phone buzzed, and only now she realized she’d been buzzed so much she’d lost feeling in that part of her leg. She grabbed the phone from her pocket.

  Where are you?

  Mark again. No kisses. No well-wishes. Or was it just his writing style? They said that around seventy percent of all text-based communication was misinterpreted. Maybe she was in the majority without realizing it.

  She pulled up her contacts and hit Mark’s name. She wasn’t going to spend her night going back and forth with him like this. She had thinking to do.

  It dialed. One ring. Mark picked up before the second ring.

  “Finally.”

  “Hello to you too,” she said.

  “Never mind hello. I texted you about three hours ago.”

  He didn’t sound like the same person. There was a venomous tone to his voice. Was he drunk or something?

  “Mr. Balzano, I’m working a murder investigation in case you forgot. I’ve been working my socks off. Delaware’s a hectic place.”

  “You couldn’t find five seconds to reply to me?”

  The volume of his voice rose. It crackled down the line. She could hardly believe he was talking to her like this.

  “Mark, it’s been non-stop. I’ve been on the road, interviewing people, hunting down a suspect. Most of the time I didn’t even have my phone with me. What’s gotten into you?”

  “Nothing’s gotten into me. I just want to know you’re safe. Am I the asshole for wanting my girlfriend to be safe?”

  They hadn’t used the girlfriend or boyfriend word yet. It was a conversation they were yet to have, and it had been so long since Ella had a boyfriend that she couldn’t remember how those conversations went. Or were they just brushed past these days? Modern relationships had so many designations that she wasn’t even sure what they were classified as. Life partner, exclusive partner, friend with benefits? Definitely not the last one, she thought. Right now, it didn’t seem like being with Mark had many benefits.

  “Not at all. I love that you care about me. But you need to accept that I have responsibilities too. I can’t just drop everything to text my…” she hesitated at the word. Somehow, it didn’t seem right calling him it. It felt too permanent, too committed. But she did it anyway, prioritizing his feelings over her concern. “Boyfriend,” she finished.

  “Right. I get it. Your first boyfriend in forever and you can’t make time for me? I’ve been worried sick. What if you were dead?”

  Ella moved the phone away from her ear and took a deep breath. She felt like she was trying to sneak past a sleeping baby on a floor made of explosives. “Dead? You have that little faith in me?”

  “You could be. How am I supposed to know if you don’t text me?”

  “So what, I’m supposed to text you every minute to tell you I’m alive? That’s ridiculous and you know it.”

  “Right, now I’m ridiculous. If this is how you treat your boyfriends, no wonder you’ve been single for so long.”

  Mark had launched a poison dart and was waiting for it to take effect. Ella got up and opened the window. Suddenly the room felt suffocating. “I was single because I wanted to be, actually. Sometimes relationships don’t seem worth the hassle.”

  “Is that a dig?” Mark asked. “What are you trying to say?”

  Ella stuck her head out the window and breathed in fresh air. It cleared her head enough to realize that this conversation was only going one way.

  “I’m just trying to say that jealousy will get us nowhere. Look, I’m with you, okay? Not anyone else. Not Byford, not Roy in accounting, not John Cena. I chose you, so cool it with the insecurity.” Maybe a joke would calm him down. It didn’t seem to do the trick.

  “This is funny to you, huh?”

  “No, it isn’t, but our jobs are going to keep us apart occasionally. You’ll be back out in the field soon too. What happens then? Are we gonna stay on the phone constantly?”

  “We’ll message. Like I’ve been trying to today.”

  Ella sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at the still life below. Not a soul moved. Orange streetlamps lined the street like sentries.

  “Yeah, we will, when we have time. Besides, too much talking and you’ll get sick of me.” Ella slammed the window shut because it was getting a little cold in the room.

  Mark stopped talking for a second. She wondered if the line had cut out by accident. Would that even be a bad thing?

  “Send me a picture,” he demanded, his booming voice startling her.

  Ella panicked a little. Was this that sexting thing that Jenna always talked about? If so, she wasn’t in the mood. Plus, it sounded like something more awkward than enjoyable. “A picture? Of what?”

  Please don’t say what I think you’re going to say.

  “Of you. In your room.”

  “Umm, okay. Can I ask why?”

  “Because I just heard a noise.”

  Ella looked around. She could see every square inch of the room and hadn’t heard a noise. “Huh? You think someone’s trying to break in my room?”

  “No, and stop making jokes. I think someone else is in your room with you. Something banged. Who else is there?”

  Ella replayed the last few seconds in her mind. Then she remembered. “That was the window, doofus. I shut it.”

  “Send me a picture and make it quick. And send me the confirmation of your motel booking. I want to know you and this new partner are in separate rooms.”

  This must be some kind of joke, Ella thought. There was no way in hell Mark was being serious.

  “Mark, what the hell…” she said before she realized she was talking to a dead phone line. No, he was being deadly serious by the sound of it. Of all the things to mess with her head tonight, she never expected it to be her own boyfriend.

  Now that she was off the phone, she quickly realized how absurd this all was. She felt more alone than when she was single and felt like she’d transitioned into a human punching bag. He couldn’t treat her like a child, nor like an obedient slave.r />
  There’d be no pictures. No videos. No constant checkins. Mark would have to live in the same reality as her, not some fantasy world where she played the part of his servant.

  When she got back to D.C., she needed to have a difficult conversation.

  ***

  In her dream, she was trapped in a cold prison cell. Not a modern one like she’d seen in Maine Correctional, but an old, rusty cage with iron bars and giant padlocks and gray walls. In the cell opposite her, another woman sat cradling herself, rocking back and forth. They were both wearing baggy white overalls with numbers on the front. Ella was 13, her new friend was 12.

  Ella pushed her face against the bars. “What’s wrong?” she asked the inmate. Upon closer inspection, she realized the woman was crying.

  “It’s my day.”

  “Your day?”

  “May 2nd at 7am. It’s the day they take me.”

  “Who? Who takes you?”

  The woman pushed her scraggly brown hair back and showed her face. Ella didn’t recognize her. “Them. The sands of time are running low.”

  Footsteps sounded beside them and a figure in black appeared between the two cages. The hooded man stood with his back to Ella, speaking Bible verses to the woman on the other side. Ella heard the word amen, then the figure vanished as quickly as he arrived.

  “It’s my time to go now,” the woman said, wiping away tears. “If you get out, tell my boy I’ll miss him. Tell him I’m sorry I made a mistake.”

  Two guards arrived, both faceless. One unlocked the woman’s cell, took her hand and brought her to her feet. “Time to go, ma’am,” he said. Ella reached out to grab the woman and hold her back, maybe giving her precious more seconds to live. But even though her hand connected with the shabby cloth, she found she had no strength or grip in this strange world.