Page 33 of Girl, Entangled

Hale gripped the tongs in his hand a little firmer. Coal smoke drifted between them and caught the back of Ella’s throat, and for a second neither of them said anything.

‘Yes, I do. I make no secret of it. Is that a crime now?’ Hale said.

‘No,’ Ripley said. ‘It isn’t. We’re talking to people who knew Curtis Brennan. You corresponded with him last year. Do you recognize the name?’

‘The guy from the Watchlist? Yes, of course. What about him?’

Ella glanced at her partner, who had her eyes on the suspect’s thumbs. Ella couldn’t identify a note of concern in her expression. ‘You haven’t read the news? Or been online?’

‘Not today,’ Hale said. ‘Why? What’s he done now?’

Ripley asked, ‘Have you spoken to him recently?’

‘I’ve never spoken to him, nor do I want to. A shallow man like that. We wouldn’t get along.’

Lying to a federal agent was a crime in itself, so Francis Hale had committed at least one felony in the past few days.

Hale continued, ‘Can you give me a moment? I didn’t drain the slack tub. The museum get funny about it, especially with kids in the other room. There’s a valve at the back.’

‘It’s not important right now, Mr Hale. All of the kids are gone. We can do this here.’

‘The museum will fine me. I won’t be a moment.’

Ella watched him cross to the equipment, and she felt the change in him before she could have named what it was; the looseness going out of his walk, the way his head came up and tilted, half an inch, toward the gap between the gift shop wall and the museum’s back door.

Hale bent over the tub. His hand went down behind it.

Then he ran.

For a man built like a loading door, Francis Hale moved well. He came off the mark with his head down and his arms driving, and his sudden burst of animation drew the attention of everyone still lingering in the courtyard. Ella’s body answered before the courtyard had finished tilting – her heart slamming up into her throat, the cold flood of it down her arms. Innocent men explained themselves. They didn’t put their heads down and sprint for a gap in a wall.

‘Hale!’

Ella burst into a sprint, but only got three steps in before her eardrums became the victim of a 150 decibel blast. A giant, brass plaque, clearly hung for its medieval flavour, fell off its bracket and came down on the cobbles in front of Hale with a sound like a dropped engine block. Hale screeched to a halt, then shot a look back at the agents like he was a deer-in-the-headlights waiting for the killing blow.

It was then that Ella saw the smoking Glock in Ripley’s hand.

‘Stay right there, Hale,’ Ripley shouted. She edged closer with her pistol trained on him, then gestured for Ella to get her cuffs out.

Ella obliged. She crossed the courtyard with her cuffs out. She watched Hale closely for another sign that he might flee.

Hale remained still. When Ella got closer, he raised his hands in surrender and said, ‘Fine. You got me.’

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Outside the interview room at the MPD precinct, Ella took the opportunity to remind Ripley that she wasn’t technically a federal agent anymore. She was a consultant, and therefore it would be Ella who had to justify the bullet that had left Ripley’s gun an hour ago. Her justification, which she’d given on the journey back from the History Museum with Francis Hale in the back seat, was that she didn’t have time to chase him down.

Ripley said, ‘As if Vernon would have the balls to take away my gun.’

‘He wouldn’t, nor should he. I’m just saying. That was a risky maneuver. A couple of years ago, you’d have crucified me for doing that.’

‘You have to earn your privileges,’ Ripley said. She turned toward the glass, the other side of which sat Francis Hale, a man big enough to make the chair he was sitting in look child-sized. ‘Why do you think he fled?’

‘I don’t know, but only guilty people run. And he lied about contacting Curtis Brennan.’

‘That’s three years in the slammer, at least.’

‘He didn’t ask what we wanted him for. Did you notice that? A man who’s hanged one person and beheaded another, you’d think he’d want to know how much we had before he decided to bolt. Hale didn’t ask. He just went. The only thing bugging me is the height.’