Page 7 of Girl, Entangled

‘It’s not a mood ring.’

‘It’s kind of a mood ring. You know, you could ask for another week off. Vernon won’t fire you.’

‘What good would that do, Hawkins?’

‘I don’t know. I’m just telling you what I think you want to hear. That’s what men do.’

‘That’s only a bit true. But no, I need to speak with Vernon and Dever ASAP. There must have been some updates in the past week, but they’ve left me in the dark, as usual. What are your plans?’

‘Plans? Ell, most people in the Bureau, including me, do the same thing day in and day out. It’s only you field people that find themselves on the business end of knives and rifles every week.’

She thought of her old job in Intelligence, when the days were long but the years were short. ‘Fair point, but I still don’t know what your plans are, even after that spiel.’

‘Then you haven’t been paying attention.’ Luca applied gel to his hair, which Ella didn’t think was allowed because some of the chemicals in gel were flammable. It sounded absurd, but in the nineties, explosives sometimes set responders’ hair on fire. Ella had seen the training videos.

‘You’re still training with the DEA.’

‘Right. I’m actually coming round to the idea of working for them. The cartels and the DEA have a handshake agreement, you know? The chances of getting murdered by cartel members are practically zero.’

Ella liked to think that Luca had seen the clientele that came with fieldwork in the BAU and had done whatever he could to get away from it. She considered that a success.

‘You should absolutely stick with the DEA. Are we heading in together?’

‘Afraid not. I’m staying late tonight, so if you want to leave before eight o’clock, you’ll have to drive yourself.’

Ella noted it and began getting dressed. Another week off would be futile. She had a mountain of paperwork to fill out when she got back to the office, and no amount of murderous twin sisters would change that. She’d done what she could to track down the real Doyle while she’d been at home, but her resources here were limited, and Vernon had told her that if he saw her at the office he’d banish her to counter-terrorism for a week. Ella hadn’t risked it.

‘You know, Creed might be lying to you,’ Luca said, now fully dressed. ‘Call me naïve, but I think a guy who killed five people wouldn’t have a problem lying to the cops.’

‘That’s what I’ve been thinking, but if Creed is lying it means he’s choosing his own life over Doyle’s. Creed is a selfish kid in a man’s body, so under no circumstances would he lie to save someone else.’

‘He’s been in prison for – what, two years? And in a supermax to boot. He’s at the bottom of the rung and he’s surrounded by lifers, gang bangers. He’s probably had more things up his ass than he can count. That would make any man want to die.’

‘I’m sure he’s getting stuffed six ways to Sunday, but it’s not in Creed’s disposition to accept death over whatever the other inmates are putting him through.’

‘Sure it is. If he accepts life imprisonment, they’d move him to D.C., right? That means he’d be going into a whole new prison system. He’d be fresh meat all over again. Anyway, I’ve gotta go. Some of us still like to put the effort in.’

Luca kissed her goodbye and made for the door. Ella hurried through her morning ritual, because when she got to HQ, she needed to have a serious talk with Dever and Vernon.

***

‘Miss Dark, would you like to be a guinea pig?’

Rick Vernon, also known around HQ as Slick Rick, rested his hand on a black case. He slid it across his gigantic desk with a squeak. Terrance Dever, the man in charge of the Lindsey Doyle investigation, leaned against the wall behind Vernon’s desk with his arms folded. His fuzzy brown hair reminded Ella of a wild bear, which made him look like he was Vernon’s mascot.

Ella eyeballed the case. She didn’t trust anything that came out of black cases on principle. It looked like the box she kept her screwdriver and accompanying heads in at home.

‘A guinea pig for what?’

Vernon gestured. ‘Open it up.’

‘It’s not going to explode, is it?’

‘Depends.’

Ella unhooked the clasps and opened up the case. Inside was a sleek, dark grey Glock 19M.

‘That’s a pistol.’