Girl, Alone (An Ella Dark FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 1)
G I R L,
A L O N E
(An Ella Dark FBI Suspense Thriller —Book One)
B L A K E P I E R C E
Blake Pierce
Blake Pierce is the USA Today bestselling author of the RILEY PAGE mystery series, which includes seventeen books. Blake Pierce is also the author of the MACKENZIE WHITE mystery series, comprising fourteen books; of the AVERY BLACK mystery series, comprising six books; of the KERI LOCKE mystery series, comprising five books; of the MAKING OF RILEY PAIGE mystery series, comprising six books; of the KATE WISE mystery series, comprising seven books; of the CHLOE FINE psychological suspense mystery, comprising six books; of the JESSE HUNT psychological suspense thriller series, comprising fourteen books (and counting); of the AU PAIR psychological suspense thriller series, comprising three books; of the ZOE PRIME mystery series, comprising four books (and counting); of the ADELE SHARP mystery series, comprising six books (and counting); of the EUROPEAN VOYAGE cozy mystery series, comprising six books (and counting); of the new LAURA FROST FBI suspense thriller, comprising three books (and counting); of the new ELLA DARK FBI suspense thriller, comprising three books (and counting); and of the new A YEAR IN EUROPE cozy mystery series, comprising three books (and counting).
ONCE GONE (a Riley Paige Mystery--Book #1), BEFORE HE KILLS (A Mackenzie White Mystery—Book 1), CAUSE TO KILL (An Avery Black Mystery—Book 1), A TRACE OF DEATH (A Keri Locke Mystery—Book 1), WATCHING (The Making of Riley Paige—Book 1), NEXT DOOR (A Chloe Fine Psychological Suspense Mystery—Book 1), THE PERFECT WIFE (A Jessie Hunt Psychological Suspense Thriller—Book One), and IF SHE KNEW (A Kate Wise Mystery—Book 1) are each available as a free download on Amazon!
An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery and thriller genres, Blake loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.blakepierceauthor.com to learn more and stay in touch.
Copyright © 2020 by Blake Pierce. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Jacket image Copyright Joe Prachatree, used under license from Shutterstock.com.
BOOKS BY BLAKE PIERCE
A YEAR IN EUROPE
A MURDER IN PARIS (Book #1)
DEATH IN FLORENCE (Book #2)
VENGEANCE IN VIENNA (Book #3)
ELLA DARK FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER
GIRL, GONE (Book #1)
GIRL, TAKEN (Book #2)
GIRL, HUNTED (Book #3)
LAURA FROST FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER
ALREADY GONE (Book #1)
ALREADY SEEN (Book #2)
ALREADY TRAPPED (Book #3)
EUROPEAN VOYAGE COZY MYSTERY SERIES
MURDER (AND BAKLAVA) (Book #1)
DEATH (AND APPLE STRUDEL) (Book #2)
CRIME (AND LAGER) (Book #3)
MISFORTUNE (AND GOUDA) (Book #4)
CALAMITY (AND A DANISH) (Book #5)
MAYHEM (AND HERRING) (Book #6)
ADELE SHARP MYSTERY SERIES
LEFT TO DIE (Book #1)
LEFT TO RUN (Book #2)
LEFT TO HIDE (Book #3)
LEFT TO KILL (Book #4)
LEFT TO MURDER (Book #5)
LEFT TO ENVY (Book #6)
LEFT TO LAPSE (Book #7)
THE AU PAIR SERIES
ALMOST GONE (Book#1)
ALMOST LOST (Book #2)
ALMOST DEAD (Book #3)
ZOE PRIME MYSTERY SERIES
FACE OF DEATH (Book#1)
FACE OF MURDER (Book #2)
FACE OF FEAR (Book #3)
FACE OF MADNESS (Book #4)
FACE OF FURY (Book #5)
FACE OF DARKNESS (Book #6)
A JESSIE HUNT PSYCHOLOGICAL SUSPENSE SERIES
THE PERFECT WIFE (Book #1)
THE PERFECT BLOCK (Book #2)
THE PERFECT HOUSE (Book #3)
THE PERFECT SMILE (Book #4)
THE PERFECT LIE (Book #5)
THE PERFECT LOOK (Book #6)
THE PERFECT AFFAIR (Book #7)
THE PERFECT ALIBI (Book #8)
THE PERFECT NEIGHBOR (Book #9)
THE PERFECT DISGUISE (Book #10)
THE PERFECT SECRET (Book #11)
THE PERFECT FAÇADE (Book #12)
THE PERFECT IMPRESSION (Book #13)
THE PERFECT DECEIT (Book #14)
THE PERFECT MISTRESS (Book #15)
CHLOE FINE PSYCHOLOGICAL SUSPENSE SERIES
NEXT DOOR (Book #1)
A NEIGHBOR’S LIE (Book #2)
CUL DE SAC (Book #3)
SILENT NEIGHBOR (Book #4)
HOMECOMING (Book #5)
TINTED WINDOWS (Book #6)
KATE WISE MYSTERY SERIES
IF SHE KNEW (Book #1)
IF SHE SAW (Book #2)
IF SHE RAN (Book #3)
IF SHE HID (Book #4)
IF SHE FLED (Book #5)
IF SHE FEARED (Book #6)
IF SHE HEARD (Book #7)
THE MAKING OF RILEY PAIGE SERIES
WATCHING (Book #1)
WAITING (Book #2)
LURING (Book #3)
TAKING (Book #4)
STALKING (Book #5)
KILLING (Book #6)
RILEY PAIGE MYSTERY SERIES
ONCE GONE (Book #1)
ONCE TAKEN (Book #2)
ONCE CRAVED (Book #3)
ONCE LURED (Book #4)
ONCE HUNTED (Book #5)
ONCE PINED (Book #6)
ONCE FORSAKEN (Book #7)
ONCE COLD (Book #8)
ONCE STALKED (Book #9)
ONCE LOST (Book #10)
ONCE BURIED (Book #11)
ONCE BOUND (Book #12)
ONCE TRAPPED (Book #13)
ONCE DORMANT (Book #14)
ONCE SHUNNED (Book #15)
ONCE MISSED (Book #16)
ONCE CHOSEN (Book #17)
MACKENZIE WHITE MYSTERY SERIES
BEFORE HE KILLS (Book #1)
BEFORE HE SEES (Book #2)
BEFORE HE COVETS (Book #3)
BEFORE HE TAKES (Book #4)
BEFORE HE NEEDS (Book #5)
BEFORE HE FEELS (Book #6)
BEFORE HE SINS (Book #7)
BEFORE HE HUNTS (Book #8)
BEFORE HE PREYS (Book #9)
BEFORE HE LONGS (Book #10)
BEFORE HE LAPSES (Book #11)
BEFORE HE ENVIES (Book #12)
BEFORE HE STALKS (Book #13)
BEFORE HE HARMS (Book #14)
AVERY BLACK MYSTERY SERIES
CAUSE TO KILL (Book #1)
CAUSE TO RUN (Book #2)
CAUSE TO HIDE (Book #3)
CAUSE TO FEAR (Book #4)
CAUSE TO SAVE (Book #5)
CAUSE TO DREAD (Book #6)
KERI LOCKE MYSTERY SERIES
A TRACE OF DEATH (Book #1)
A TRACE OF MUDER (Book #2)
A TRACE OF VICE (Book #
3)
A TRACE OF CRIME (Book #4)
A TRACE OF HOPE (Book #5)
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
EPILOGUE
PROLOGUE
With her feet perched on the counter, Christine bent her head backward and eyeballed the wall clock above her.
5:32 p.m.
She spun her chair around, then pulled out her phone to double-check the time.
Ugh, she thought, I’m sure that clock hasn’t moved in an hour.
It had been a forgettable day, in a forgettable town. Christine Hartwell had long known that most Friday nights were unremarkable once middle age crept in, but she never dreamt it would come to this—willingly keeping her shop open until the evening hours on the off-chance someone needed DIY supplies.
She pulled herself up and strolled out into the first aisle. Beyond the store’s stained windows, Christine watched a crimson sun descend below a cluster of trees on the other side of the bayou. The last of the day’s natural light gradually dissolved, casting a deep gray hue across the small village.
Christine’s small Louisiana town didn’t have much to offer, but it allowed her to live a simple life against a backdrop of gorgeous scenery. Sometimes, when her store was empty, she could hear the gentle trickle of the bayou outside her window; rhythmic and comforting in its serenity.
It was a life, and that was all she wanted.
She began to rearrange a small display of hacksaws in the shop window, then glanced over at the time again. There wasn’t a soul in sight, nor had there been in the past two hours. Time to close up, she thought. I’ve got a life to live.
She made her way to the rear of the store to the switch which closed the exterior shutters, after which she’d leave out the fire exit behind her. She pushed down, then counted to ten. She heard the mechanical whir beyond the storeroom wall and began to contemplate what the rest of her evening might hold.
Television? Dinner? Wine? Browse for holidays I can’t afford?
But as Christine reached the count of six, something pulled her from her boredom-induced daydream.
Bang.
A startling thud on the other side of the wall.
“Oh shit.”
Had something crashed onto the shop floor? Had the shutters accidentally crushed something?
She rushed back out toward the counter and surveyed the room. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Hesitantly, she turned back around, and her peripheral vision picked up on something in the far corner.
Outside, she noticed the silhouette of someone standing next to the shop door. The half-closed shutters concealed the stranger’s face, but it was undoubtedly a male. Black jeans, well-worn shoes, the bottom half of a woolen coat.
“Hello?” she shouted. “Who’s that?”
No answer. The silhouette didn’t move an inch. Typical, she thought. Someone wants something just as I’m closing.
Christine sighed, then sauntered back to the storeroom with heavy strides. She opened the shutters back up, and as they clinked into place, she heard the silhouette-man open the door. She peered her head back around the storeroom door.
There was nothing remarkable about the man, except for his sheer normalcy. Most men in bayou country flaunted that unmistakable aura of rural living; rough hands from a lifetime of manual labor, or the ingrained scent of manure in their clothes. But this man could have introduced himself as a bartender at the local dive or a banker earning six figures and Christine would have believed him either way.
She couldn’t place his age, maybe a young forty or an early-thirties who’d endured a hectic upbringing. Under other circumstances, Christine might have even found him attractive, but the fact he’d put an abrupt stop to her plans overrode all of his appeal.
He walked carelessly and without caution down aisle three, before fixating on the display of hacksaws Christine had spent so long preparing earlier that day.
“Anything I can help you with?” she asked from behind the counter. “I was just about to close. You arrived at the right time.”
No reply came. He didn’t even register that he’d heard her.
Rude, she thought.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternal stillness, he spoke.
“Antifreeze,” he said. His voice was gentle but with a rough edge, like an ex-smoker whose vocal cords were in recovery.
“No problem. It’s up here.”
Christine pulled out a black container and dropped it on the counter. The gentleman approached and fixated his gaze on the item between them. He pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and pushed it across to Christine.
“Heavy-duty, fifty-fifty,” Christine said. “Will that do you?”
Two hands suddenly grabbed the container. Christine flinched, stepping back. Her heart began to pound, and suddenly, an unexplainable sense of dread filled her stomach. Outside, sunset turned to full dusk. There were no lights on in any of the other stores on her row. A ghostly fog danced at the window, bringing with it a distressing awareness of just how alone she was.
“Is that all?” she asked.
But once again, the man offered nothing in the way of a response. He retreated the way he came without collecting his five cents change, leaving Christine’s hand outstretched like a mannequin.
The man exited the store, looked in either direction, then faded into the darkness.
Christine kept her eyes glued to him as he disappeared. Before his outline completely vanished, he turned, keeping his head down, and took one last glance at Christine’s Hardware 101.
She shook her shoulders, brushing off a sensation of numbness. Composing herself, she ran back to the storeroom and closed the shutters. She reached the count of ten but kept her finger on the switch until she was positive she was barred inside.
Without natural light, the store emanated a sunburnt orange glow from the overhead lights. Christine took out the cash register and placed it inside the safe. Just as she punched the last digit of the six-number combination to lock it, she heard a strange shuffling.
A bolt of ice shot down her spine. She surveyed the floor, praying that she’d see an inquisitive mouse, a rat, a cricket.
Nothing.
Then, the same sound again. Like something was scratching along her wooden floor. Rough shoes, maybe, or a fallen screw rolling between her feet.
Bang.
A bead of sweat collected on her head. Her face began to burn. She stood in place, motionless. The sound had come from the storeroom.
I knocked something over when I was in there, she reassured herself.
But then she heard a clunk, the recognizable tone of metal on metal.
She leaped across the counter and grabbed the nearest display model which could double as a weapon. She landed on a chisel and gripped it with a force she didn’t know she had.
Slowly, she sidestepped into the back room. Light was minimal, but everything seemed in place. Further along in her kitchen area, the boiler system chugged away, pushing water through the store’s heating system.
Was it just the boiler? she thought.
A small wave of relief washed o
ver her, but then Christine shifted her eyes to something lying beside the fire exit.
A container of antifreeze. Heavy-duty, fifty-fifty.
She struggled to comprehend the scene in front of her. She couldn’t find the will to scream or cry or run; she simply stood in place, wordless.
The same clothes, the same nondescript look. But this time, there was something else. He held a rifle, with the gun barrel pointing directly at her.
Terror engulfed her from head to toe. She threw the chisel at the intruder, but the object had barely left her hand before a deafening gunshot sent her sprawling to the floor. She felt her ribs shatter. Her vision failed, but she suddenly felt the familiar sensation of wood against her face.
Struggling for breath, she finally opened her eyes and found herself collapsed against her store counter.
Christine crawled and slithered away, each movement agony, blood dyeing her hands.
A foot pressed on her wrist, almost crushing it.
She looked up and finally made eye contact with the strange man she’d first seen only five minutes before. Her gaze deviated to the weapon clenched in his hands. No longer was he holding a rifle. In its place was a felling ax, raised high above the man’s head, its tapered blade glistening silver.
Christine raised her head and screamed, her cries ricocheting off the metal hardware on the shelf beside them. Tears streamed down her face as the ax came down.
And then her world went black.
CHAPTER ONE
Ella Dark raised the Glock Gen 5 pistol, aligned her sight, and squeezed until she felt maximum resistance. Her hand vibrated in the recoil, and then she emptied the chamber in less than two seconds, almost severing the neck of the target dummy.
The FBI offices in Washington, D.C., were a spectacle to behold at any time of the day, but there was something impossibly surreal about them when nightfall came. Even the FBI shooting range, access to which was a major perk of her job, was unusually deserted on this Friday evening. She removed her safety goggles and inspected the rest of the alcoves, seeing only a lone shooter at the other end of the range.