by Blake Pierce
“I’m just messing with you,” Hannah allowed.
“Thank god. An inability to feel standard human emotions I can handle. Dating, not so much. You get my point though, right?”
“What’s your point?” Hannah asked.
“You’ve got a lot going for you. You’re healthy. You’re smart. You’ve got a roof over your head. You’ve got a sister who loves you. And you’ve got me. Try to look at the positives.”
Hannah smiled despite herself. Kat was trying so hard. She decided to throw her a bone.
“You know, you’re really turning me around here. I think I may apply to Harvard on one of those runway model scholarships.”
The comment made her flash back to an odd conversation she’d had at school a few weeks ago with a girl who had also suggested that her good looks might work to her financial advantage.
“I got one of those,” Kat said, bringing Hannah back to the present. “But I joined the army instead.”
Hannah could tell the time for serious discussion had ended.
“I’m going to let you go. I’ve taken up enough of your time bitching about my life. Bask in your romance.”
“You’re sure you’re good?” Kat asked.
“Good enough.”
After she hung up, Hannah decided to go lie in the hammock in the back yard. Before that, she slipped into Ryan’s room to open his window so she could hear if he called out for help. He was fast asleep.
For half a second, she imagined herself pulling the pillow out from underneath his head and pressing it against his face, smothering him, and releasing him from the pain of his current existence.
The moment passed and she went outside. As she settled into the hammock, she allowed herself to buy into the image of herself that Kat had described. A picture of her sashaying down a fashion runway, wearing a cap and gown, filled her drowsy thoughts.
For now at least, as she drifted off, the idea of mercy killing her sister’s boyfriend faded away. When she eventually woke up, it was to the sound of Ryan moaning in pain.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Jessie thought he’d have a nicer house.
As she and Karen arrived at the home of Rance Jensen in their separate cars, she noted that the place was officially impressive. It was a two-story, Spanish mission–style home with elaborate designs on the exterior wall tile. But on closer inspection, the shingles were in disrepair. The grass in the yard was getting shaggy, and the paint job looked worn. For a big TV star, the guy didn’t seem to be keeping up appearances.
Before they went to the door, they went over their plan. This was the only guy on the list of suspects they’d developed at the law firm who they knew for certain had been at the party last night. At least two revelers they’d interviewed by the pool mentioned his name, specifically referring to his body autographing skills, so he seemed like a good choice to start with until Jamil got to look at the security footage.
“Be ready,” Jessie advised. “We already know the guy’s volatile. Whether he did this or not, we’ve seen that he’s capable of violence. That reporter he beat up still can’t see out of one eye and it’s been three years.”
“Got it,” Karen said in a tone that suggested she didn’t need any extra warnings. “Bad man likes to hit. Prepare to hurt.”
Jessie reminded herself that she was dealing with a pro and that her words of caution were not only unnecessary but a little insulting.
“Sorry,” she said.
Karen winked and with the mini-dispute resolved, they walked up to the front door, where the detective rang the bell. She had to press it twice more before the door was opened by a skinny, thirty-something guy in a bathrobe. His blond hair was in full bed head mode and he yawned for a good five seconds before speaking.
“I don’t do autographs at my home,” he said irritably, squinting at them through puffy hazel eyes.
“We’re not here for autographs, Mr. Jensen,” Karen said. “We’re—”
“I don’t give freebies either,” he said. “If I had a dime for every professional mom who wanted to have a poke with Sheriff Batts, I’d probably have herpes.”
The two women looked at each other, sharing a moment of annoyance.
“That’s not why we’re here either—” Jessie started to say before he cut her off too.
“Now you, I might take the risk and do,” he said, looking her up and down.
Jessie wasn’t sure whether to be more pissed at his aggressive ogling or his crass dismissal of Karen. Ultimately she decided not to indulge her anger about either.
“As flattering as that is, sir,” she said, “we’re with the police and we need you to answer a few questions.”
Jensen laughed.
“That’s a new one,” he said. “I kind of like it. Were you planning to read me my rights and then cuff me? Maybe you’re anticipating a rough interrogation, one that might get physical?”
Jessie could sense that Karen wanted to take this one and deferred to her.
“Detective Karen Bray,” she said, holding up her badge and ID with one hand as she casually pulled back her jacket to reveal the sidearm attached to her belt. “This is Jessie Hunt. She’s a criminal profiler. As she said, we have some questions for you. You can answer them here at your home, in your bathrobe. Or we can make this more formal down at the station. It’s your call, Mr. Jensen.”
He looked at Karen’s ID, then back at her unamused face before turning back to Jessie, who was equally taciturn.
“This is real?” he asked. “You’re not messing with me?”
“We’re not messing with you,” Jessie said, deciding to launch in before he got his wits about him. “We understand that you were at a party at the Otis Estate last night, is that correct?”
“What of it?” he demanded, recovering faster than she anticipated.
“What do you think of Jasper Otis?” she asked.
Jensen shrugged.
“Rich dude, generous. Keeps quality liquor and hot, young girls around. What’s not to like?”
“Ever see him lose his cool? Get angry?”
“I don’t know him that well,” Jensen said. “Why?”
“Did you run into any old acquaintances while you were there?” Karen wondered, jumping in quickly.
Jessie picked up on what the detective was hoping to do and liked the idea. By alternately peppering Jensen with questions, batting him back and forth like a tennis ball, she hoped to keep him off balance long enough to get something worthwhile out of him. It was worth a shot.
“It was a huge party. I knew lots of people there,” he said.
“What do you think of Millicent Estrada?” Jessie asked.
He stared at her curiously before answering.
“She’s a bitch.”
“Why do you say that?” Karen asked.
“Because she left me hanging just before I went to court on a bogus assault charge. She was supposed to be this superstar lawyer but when she got worried that she couldn’t win, she cut me loose. I ended up serving a hundred twenty-two days in prison, where I had to have three guards escort me from my solitary holding cell to the yard for workouts, all because there was a risk that another inmate might want to make me his personal trophy. So yeah, not a fan. Why?”
“She’s dead, Mr. Jensen,” Jessie said, watching him closely as she spoke. “And she was at the party last night. So we’re wondering if you ran into her at any point?”
His eyes went wide for a moment, though Jessie couldn’t tell whether it was shock at the news or fear at the unspoken accusation. Impressively, it only lasted a second before he regained his disdainful, gruff manner.
“I think you should talk to my lawyer. I had to get a new one, you know.”
“Are you sure that’s how you want to handle it, Mr. Jensen?” Karen asked, as if she was concerned for him. “We ask a simple question about your whereabouts and you immediately refer us to your lawyer?”
“What were you expecting?”
/> “I don’t know,” Karen said, “maybe a word of compassion about her loss? A question about how it happened? A firm denial that you saw her at any point? An offer to provide a list of people who were with you and could verify that you didn’t interact with her? Any of those, I could understand. But ‘talk to my lawyer’?” That tends to make us law enforcement types perk up.”
He looked at her imperviously.
“Hey, anything that makes you a little perkier is a plus, I’d say. You’re looking pretty run down, Detective.”
“Is that really the response you want to stick with?” Jessie asked, jumping in before Karen got the urge to reply in kind. “I mean, we obviously know you were there. We’ve already spoken to people who attended about your…proclivities. We’re pulling footage from the dozens of cameras on the property that will verify how you spent your time. And yet, you seem intent on alienating the very people who will determine how aggressively to pursue you as a person of interest. That seems like a dicey way to go. You want to take one more shot at it? Amid all the activities you partook in last night, did you see Millicent Estrada at any point?”
She knew she was taking a risk. No one they’d spoken to had specifically mentioned Jensen doing anything illegal and she doubted they’d get any incriminating footage. But unless he was confident that he’d been a good boy, she figured she could instill a little doubt in him.
Rance Jensen looked at each of them separately, then, very casually, undid the belt of his robe so that it fell open, revealing that he was wasn’t wearing anything underneath.
“I’m in my home,” he said slowly. “This is harassment. Talk to my lawyer.”
He slammed the door shut. Jessie and Karen shared stunned looks.
“I’d say we should arrest him for public indecency,” Karen said, half-chuckling. “But I think there needs to be more visual evidence than he provided to justify the charge.”
Jessie shrugged, trying to hold back her own laughter.
“At least we know he’s not armed,” she said.
That broke open the dam. As they walked back to their cars, they erupted into a fit of giggling. When they finally recovered, Karen spoke.
“As much as I’d like to take him in for general assholery, I think we’re stuck for now. Maybe we’ll get lucky with some footage, but he seems to know we’re hamstrung.”
“Let’s not give up just yet. If anyone can find something, it’s Jamil,” Jessie said as her phone rang. “Maybe that’s him now.”
She looked at the screen. It was Hannah.
“What’s up?” she asked when she picked up.
“You have to get back here now,” her sister said breathlessly. “Ryan fell.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“I’m fine,” Ryan said for the third time.
It was no more convincing than the first two.
He didn’t look hurt. And he was alert and responsive. Despite that, Jessie could see that Hannah was extremely upset. Jessie told her to wait for her outside as she settled Ryan back into bed.
She could feel a vise of guilt and worry wrapping around her and fought it off, knowing that she couldn’t show weakness in front of him. He needed her strong right now. She’d deal with her own culpability later.
“What were you thinking?” she demanded, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice.
“Rehab,” he said after much effort.
Jessie made sure her voice was composed when she replied.
“We have someone coming in for that tomorrow, Ryan,” she insisted. “I know you want to get back to normal as soon as you can. But it’s your first day here. You were in the hospital this morning. Be at least a little patient, please.”
He nodded, though she could tell he wasn’t convinced.
“What?” she asked. “I can tell you’re holding back.”
He stared at her. His eyes were blazing but his lips were pursed with the effort of trying to speak.
“Burden,” he finally managed to blurt out.
She sighed and sat down next to him on the bed.
“You’re not a burden,” she insisted. “I love you. What did you think—that your girlfriend was just going to take a hard pass on caring for you while you get better? That’s insulting. Besides, the department is paying for your medical and rehab bills, so that’s not an issue. I want you here. So does Hannah. And this house is perfect for your recovery. It’s like it was meant to be.”
He shook his head, unconvinced. She tried again.
“I know you’re frustrated, babe. You like to charge hard, all the time. But you have to cut yourself some slack. Did you think you were going to be back on the streets this week, chasing down criminals? It’s going to be slower than you like. But we’ll get there if you don’t delay the process by getting injured while pushing too hard, too fast.”
She looked at him, hoping she could will him to feel her love and support. He opened his mouth and, after a few seconds of struggle, managed to get out another word.
“Useless,” he said, his voice choked with frustration.
Her shoulders slumped involuntarily.
“Okay,” she said gently. “I’m going to go prep some soup and a smoothie for your dinner. I think the late football game started a little while ago so I’ll put that on for you. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
She left the room with a smile plastered on her face, fully aware that he was watching for any sign that she had given up on him. Hannah was sitting at the kitchen island.
“How is he?” she asked.
“Agitated, discouraged, irate, take your pick. How are you?”
Hannah looked at her without any of her usual cynicism.
“I was really scared. I was outside resting in the hammock and I heard this thud. When I got inside, he was on the floor. I knew he hadn’t just fallen out of the bed because the sidebar was up. It was like he tried to walk somewhere, but he didn’t even use the walker. At first he wouldn’t even let me help him up.”
She looked away quickly.
Jessie thought she might be fighting back tears and it broke the dam inside her, one she hadn’t realized was holding so much back. This was her fault. She should have been here to prevent this, to protect her already traumatized sister from carrying another burden that wasn’t hers.
“I’m really sorry,” she said. “I had no idea he’d try something like that. Clearly I misjudged his desire to get moving, even at the expense of good sense. I shouldn’t have left you here to take care of him alone, even for a short time.”
It looked like Hannah was about to agree with her, but the girl seemed to catch herself. When she spoke her voice was firm.
“I really think we should have an in-house nurse all the time for the first few weeks—day and night. With me at school and you taking this case, it’s just too much. What if I’m in the bathroom when he tries this again? We need to have the ability to get groceries or take a walk and know he’s safe.”
Jessie nodded.
“You’re right,” she said. “In fact, Kat texted something similar to me earlier. I guess I thought—more like hoped—that we could handle the nights. But that was clearly overly optimistic, at least for now. After I get him squared away for the evening, I’ll call the service. This will be the only night we have to honcho this alone. I promise. He won’t love it but he’ll just have to deal.”
She paused for a moment before changing subjects.
How was your day?”
Hannah gave her a “you’re kidding, right?” look.
“Maybe we should just talk about your day,” she suggested. “Interesting case?”
Jessie decided to forgo her usual closemouthed attitude toward cases in the interest of changing subjects.
“It’s certainly high profile,” she answered as she got out the smoothie fixings. “A woman was murdered at the Otis Estate.”
“Otis Estate as in Jasper Otis, the rich jerk?”
“The very same,” Jessie confirm
ed.
“Is he a suspect?” Hannah asked, animated in a way she hadn’t been moments earlier.
“You know I can’t get into that. But I promise that once we solve the case, I’ll share all the juicy details.”
“Can you at least tell me who the victim is?”
“No one famous,” Jessie said. “It’s just a normal woman. But what was done to her was pretty awful. The bastard who did it is going to rot if I have anything to say about it.”
Her thoughts drifted to the anonymous “Marla.” She wondered if she’d ever get to be so definitive about the punishment for her abusers.
“What aren’t you telling me?” Hannah asked.
Jessie continued to be amazed at how perceptive Hannah was at picking up on nonverbal cues and how often she still underestimated her own sister.
“I was actually thinking about something else,” she said as she tossed protein powder and fruit into the blender. “I stumbled across another potential case while working this one, involving potential sex trafficking of teenage girls, right here under our noses. They supposedly even house a bunch of them at a fancy mansion. I’m just wondering how much of that sort of thing sneaks below the radar, maybe in schools like yours, because these girls have been indoctrinated into a culture of silence, made to feel like this is what they deserve.”
Hannah seemed to be seriously pondering the question.
“Have you ever thought of putting undercover cops in the schools where you think it’s happening? Maybe you need someone with street level perspective to see what you can’t.”
Jessie considered the idea. It wasn’t a bad one.
“That could work,” she said. “But we have so little information. It would hard to know where to start.”
She hit the blender and they both watched the blueberries, strawberries, and bananas turn into a purple mush. When Jessie shut it off, Hannah spoke up.
“Well, I’ll keep my eyes open at school tomorrow. If I see any sketchy-looking older dudes on campus handing out business cards, looking for sex slaves, I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks,” Jessie said, smiling bitterly. “That’s probably as effective as anything I could do right now.”