by Ana Valen
Hints of trepidation arose while she waited. That made sense given last night’s meeting with Harlan. Still, she doubted that anything would happen. They were in a crowded area and within a crowded city. Furthermore, Harlan was onboard with her plan. But at the same time, he was also unpredictable.
The door unlocked and opened, revealing the person she encountered last night… sort of.
Harlan undoubtedly stood there, but he was completely different. He wore normal street clothes, including dark-brown pants, a black t-shirt, and a semi-stylish button up checkered shirt. Hell. He was even decent looking. But his eyes were the same—hollow, lifeless. That brought to mind the person who slammed her head against a wall, not to mention placed a gun to her temple.
He quietly stepped aside—his form of an invitation.
“Good morning,” she said while entering.
“Morning,” he dryly followed.
He closed the door, locked it, and made his way inside. She followed right behind.
Harlan abruptly stopped and turned. “Do you… want something to drink?”
“No. But thank you for asking.”
He nodded. “If you change your mind…”
“I’ll let you know. Thanks again.”
He turned back and resumed his route. She continued behind him and they entered the living room.
“Nice place,” she commented, observing the light-gray color combinations.
“Thanks.” He gestured towards the long couch. “Would you care to sit?”
“Thank you.”
She planted herself on the charcoal-colored sofa. He sat beside her. Then nothing. He looked at her, and she looked right back.
She smiled to cover up the awkwardness. “So, where do we begin?”
He grabbed a manila folder from the dark-gray coffee table. After opening the cover, he revealed what seemed like police reports. “I have a source within the LAPD. My source procured the case file and I looked everything over. These reports show that—”
“Harlan, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to interrupt. But can I ask you something?”
“Go ahead.”
She smoothed her denim jeans despite the lack of wrinkles. “Are you going to engage in violence during your investigation? For instance, if you need to question someone, are you going to…”
“Threaten to put them in a body bag?”
“Yes. And not only that, might you actually place them inside?”
“If that’s necessary.”
She observed his eyes while he answered. There was still nothing there. He could have just as easily said he would put gas in his car… if that was necessary.
“If I need to hurt someone,” he continued, “you don’t have to be there.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind. But that isn’t my primary concern.”
“Then what is?”
She smoothed her jeans some more. “Do you really not feel anything?”
He stayed quiet.
“When I spoke with Kovalenko, he said you that killed without emotion. I found that hard to believe. But last night, I saw what he meant. And now, I’m getting the same vibe. I have to be honest with you. I find that slightly off-putting.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s inhuman. It also makes you unpredictable. If you decide to hurt me, I won’t see this coming. You won’t scowl, you won’t raise your voice—you’ll simply hurt me.”
“That’s true. But I can’t change that.”
“Have you always been this way?”
He again stayed quiet.
“I apologize. That was a personal question. I shouldn’t have asked it.”
“It’s fine. And if you want, you can remove yourself from my work.”
“I appreciate the offer. But I need to be involved.”
“It’s your choice. But keep in mind that you’re not safe around me. If you become a liability, you’re going in the body bag.”
She took a small breath. “I also appreciate the warning. But again, I need to be involved.”
He nodded.
“Well,” she continued, “what did the reports say?”
He looked back to the papers. “Not much. They’re mostly crime scene assessments. What I need are suspect interviews. Those will clue me in to where the investigation is headed. The only interview in the case file is with Susan Wright. But according to the detectives, she isn’t high on their suspect list.”
“That’s bullshit. I know Susan. She isn’t as innocent as she seems.”
“What do you mean?”
“She was in love with Jessie, but far too in love. She’s the obsessive type. And if she doesn’t get what she wants, she becomes manipulative.”
“Give me an example.”
“Well, when she and Jessie first started daring, she wanted all of his attention. When he didn’t give this to her, she acted sweet and loving. She would plan elaborate dates, elaborate dinners—stuff like that. When that failed, she turned up the heat with bedroom activities. Then to increase her control, she started talking about weddings and children. Jessie said he wasn’t ready for that, and she said that was fine. Then she ends up getting pregnant.”
“Your brother didn’t take precautions against pregnancy?”
“He did. But I can see her finding a way around this. It’s not like that’s difficult. When they’re done making love, just grab the condom from the trashcan.”
Harlan looked back to the reports. “The detectives were adamant about Susan being heartbroken.”
“I’m sure she was. But only because she couldn’t manipulate Jessie like she wanted.”
He looked back to her. “You think this angered her enough to kill him?”
“That I’m not sure. Susan is definitely the vengeful type, but killing someone a stretch. That’s especially true considering how Jessie was killed. I can’t imagine Susan gunning him down. I can’t even imagine her knowing how to use a firearm.”
“Maybe she didn’t shoot him. Maybe she hired someone for this.”
“Maybe. How could we find this out?”
Harlan stared into the living room, his mind clearly cranking. “How well do you know Susan?”
“Fairly well. Why?”
He refocused on her. “What type of place does she live in?”
“A house.” Claire grinned. “And yes, you should be able to get inside.”
“Good. And one more question. Are we moving slow or fast?”
“What’s the difference?”
“The likelihood of getting caught. If we’re moving slow, I’ll surveil the home and develop an entry strategy. That route is safer, but it will take days. If we’re moving fast, I’ll break inside tonight.”
Claire nodded her understanding. “But that will increase your chances of being caught.”
“Exactly. But not by the police. The police won’t ever catch me.”
“Then by Susan?”
He nodded.
“If that happens,” she followed, “what will you do to her?”
He paused. “I’ll make sure the police don’t catch me.”
Damn. She knew what that meant. Dead people tell no tales.
“I understand,” she said. “And while I would rather avoid that, I also don’t want to wait. So how about we split the difference?”
“What do you mean?”
“You break in tonight. But before doing so, I’ll help you develop an entry strategy. After all, I can access Susan’s home. I simply have to call and ask to come over.”
He took another moment to consider this. “Okay. That’ll work. I’ll start devising a strategy that utilizes your access. I’ll call you afterward and provide you with instructions.”
“Good deal. Was there anything else?”
“Not at the moment.”
She nodded and rose. Harlan likewise stood.
She started for the door with Harlan right behind. After opening the door, she stepped outside and turned back.
&
nbsp; “Thanks for your help,” she told him. “And thanks for having me over.”
He nodded without saying anything.
“And if you want, maybe we could…”
“We could what?”
She smiled. “Nothing. I’ll wait for your call.”
She turned and started for the stairs.
She wanted to suggest they hang out as friends. That would help gain his cooperation. But she was better off leaving. If she pressed her luck, Harlan might smash her head… again.
Chapter 14
Back at the station, Detective Raven stood inside a conference room. She leaned over the room’s sizeable table while eyeing the Jessie Jacobson crime scene photos.
For her, laying out the crime scene photos always helped. It wasn’t enough to flip through them in a murder book. She needed a photographic mosaic with the images arranged how they were taken. For the Jessie Jacobson crime scene, that resulted in a mountain-like collage of printouts. Unfortunately, the normally reliable strategy wasn’t working.
She leaned up and crossed her arms. What was she missing? What was out of place? Other than the dead body, nothing. She refocused on the body, which slowly started talking to her.
She leaned forward and placed her hands on the desk, straining to listen. She then scanned the corpse. She started with Jessie’s deadened eyes and moved down to his slackened face. She kept moving down, and eventually reached his blood-soaked abdomen.
“Wait,” she whispered. “Wait. The perp is—”
“Raven!” called out a familiar voice.
She looked over and found the door open. When did that happen? She also spotted her supervisor, Lieutenant Samantha Brand.
“Dammit, Raven,” Brand continued, the Captain standing behind her. “How many times have I told you? If you want the conference room, you have to reserve it.”
“Sorry, sorry. I’ll clear out.”
Raven turned to the desk, scooped up the photos, and started for the door. As she departed, Brand gave her a look of tired exasperation. Raven was familiar with that look.
“Sorry, L.T.,” Raven said while exiting. She then glanced at the equally exasperated man behind Brand. “Captain.”
“Raven,” the Captain grumbled.
Raven hustled down the hallway and rounded into the detective’s den. After cutting across the array of cubicles, she reached the homicide squad. She approached her desk where next door, Adams leaned into his computer. From the look of it, he was still reviewing the hiking trail surveillance footage.
Adams looked over. After a second, he refocused on his screen. “I hope those photos jogged your memory, because this surveillance footage isn’t giving me anything.”
“Nothing at all?” She placed the photos on her desk and leaned into his cubicle.
“Nope. I’ve played back the hour before the murder. And I’ve done this multiple times.” He shook his head. “Nothing. I’ve also gone back further in time, and still no luck. Everyone at the hiking trail is who you would expect. They’re Angelinos driving expensive cars, with upbeat expressions, and dressed in stylish workout clothes. None of them look like assassins.”
“Did any of them look like Susan?”
He sniffed. “Not a single one. The only saving grace is the lack of cars.”
“How is that helpful?”
“I’ve been taking down their license plates. I’ll follow up on those when I’m through with the footage. But I doubt they’ll lead to anything. Anyway. What do you have?”
Raven waited to emphasize her point. “The killer was female.”
Adams looked to her. “What?”
“The killer. They were female.” Raven went to her desk, pulled a photo of Jessie, and placed it before Adams. “Here. Take a look at the entry wounds.”
Adams paused the surveillance video, grabbed the photo, and examined it. “All the wounds are to his stomach. So what?”
“You said it might be a crime of passion, right?”
“Right. The excessive number of gunshots hints at that. But even if passion is the motive, how can you tell the shooter was female?”
“If the shooter was male, where would they aim?”
Adams paused. “The genitals?”
“Exactly. If the shooter was female, where would they aim?”
“The womb?”
“Right again.”
Adams leaned back. “But Jessie was male. He didn’t have a womb.”
“What if the shooter was projecting?”
“Projecting? You mean subconsciously targeting what they hated?”
“Yeah.”
Adams refocused on the image and rubbed his jaw. “I don’t know. That seems like a stretch.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Remember, we both agree that this doesn’t seem like a robbery. This seems like a personal attack.”
“I’m with you there. But I’m struggling to make the leap to a female shooter targeting a superimposed womanhood.”
“But is that partly conceivable?”
“Yeah. I suppose.”
“Then let’s research Jessie’s past, specifically his female relationships. I’m betting that somewhere along the line, he screwed over some woman.”
Adams rubbed his jaw some more. “Perhaps a woman who wanted to have his baby, and failed at this.”
Raven arched her brow. “And perhaps that unhinged this woman.”
Adams nodded at Jessie’s vast array of wounds. “And if anything screams unhinged, that’s it.” He handed back the photo. “Alright. Let’s dig up his history. It’s not like we’re progressing anywhere else.”
“Cool. I’ll go ahead and get started. And you?”
“I’ll finish up with this surveillance footage. Then I’ll follow up on those license plates. That way, we’ll exhaust this area of investigation.”
She smirked. The video footage was useless. Same with the license plates. They should jump headlong into her theory. But Adams was too meticulous for that. And perhaps that was okay. While she ran wild with her ideas, he could comb everything in her wake. On second thought, maybe they would make a good team.
“What?” he asked.
“Huh?”
“That grin on you face.”
“Oh. Nothing. I’m just excited that we’re onto something.” She tapped his cubicle and added, “Partner.”
He shook his head and went back to his screen. She leaned into her cubicle and seated herself.
Time to find this woman.
Chapter 15
Claire pulled up to Susan’s house and parked along the street. She shut off the engine, exited, and came around her car. While walking up the driveway, she eyed Susan’s 4-series BMW. Jessie had bought that car a few months ago. When hearing about that, Claire’s blood warmed. Now seeing the vehicle in person, her temperature rose once more. But she needed to keep her anger in check, at least during this visit.
Claire stopped at the front door and knocked. A moment later, Susan opened up. As expected, Susan wore chic urban attire, and donned a look of anguish.
“Claire,” Susan lamented, stepping outside and extending her arms.
“Hey,” Claire responded, slipping into Susan’s embrace.
Susan’s perfume filled Claire’s nose. That bubbled back some anger. Jessie was probably still on the autopsy table, and Susan was already trying to entice those around her. Clearly, Susan was enjoying her newfound single status.
Claire forced out a smile and created some space. “How are you holding up?”
Susan sniffed back moisture. “I’m hanging in there. But it’s tough, you know?”
“Yeah. It was so sudden. And when you consider how it happened…”
Susan shook her head. “This is so insane. I still can’t believe it’s true.”
“Same here.”
Susan stepped aside. “Well, come in and we’ll talk.”
Claire nodded and entered.
Susan closed the door, locked it, and led them into the l
iving room. Claire looked around while walking. She had already seen everything—the stylish décor, the pastel colors, the trendy abstract artwork—but now she observed the interior with a purpose.
“Hey,” Claire called out. “Do you have something to drink?”
Susan turned back. “Yeah. I’m so sorry. I should’ve asked.”
“It’s fine.”
Susan headed for the kitchen. “What do you feel like?”
“Tea, if you have it.”
“I certainly do.”
As Susan opened the refrigerator, Claire kept scanning. All the while, she recorded everything with her secret device.
Before coming over, Harlan supplied her with a watch, one that had a digital recorder embedded in the face. The recorder not only captured video footage, but also streamed the footage back to Harlan. Harlan also equipped her with something else.
Claire stopped by a mantel, reached into her jacket pocket, and pulled a motion sensor. She placed the pill-sized device by a picture. That left her with one more sensor, which Harlan said to place upstairs.
Susan reentered the living room, and Claire looked over. Susan approached with two glasses of tea and handed one over.
“Thanks again,” Claire said, taking the offering.
“No problem. Feel like sitting?”
“Sure.”
Claire sat on the long couch, and Susan sat on the loveseat. They both sipped.
“Any word on the arrangements?” Susan asked, lowering her glass into her lap.
Claire likewise lowered her glass. “Not yet. The body is still at the coroner’s office. They’re going to perform an autopsy, though I’m not sure why. The cause of death is obvious.”
Susan cringed.
“I know,” Claire continued. “The thought of someone shooting him is a lot.”
“Not just that. The autopsy. I can’t bear the idea of someone cutting him open, even though he won’t feel it.”
“Agreed. But whenever foul play is involved, autopsies are necessary.” Claire sipped. “Just be thankful you won’t see it. And be thankful you didn’t have to identify the body.”
“Oh, I know. There’s no way I could’ve handled that.”
“I don’t fault you. It wasn’t easy. But it was telling.”