by Ana Valen
Raven pieced this together based on social media posts. Unfortunately, the posts didn’t explain what had happened. But the injury was probably significant as nearly every posts extended heartfelt condolences.
Raven needed to know why Claire was hospitalized. And she especially needed to know if Jessie was connected. She could no longer ask Jessie, but she could ask James Reed. Luckily, James wasn’t far. He lived in Santa Monica, which was only fifteen minutes away. Was it too late for a visit? Nah. Besides, meeting people without warning was advantageous. It prevented them from preparing any stories.
She obtained his address, closed her laptop, and started for the door. Thirty minutes later, she arrived at James’ Santa Monica home.
She parked her Honda Accord on the street and checked the clock. It was ten minutes before 9:00pm. On second thought, it was kinda late. Oh, well.
She shut off the engine and disembarked. While stepping onto the sidewalk, she glanced around the neighborhood. The area wasn’t bad. It wasn’t the richest location in Santa Monica, but it was definitely upper middle-class. Perfect for defense attorneys with well-off clients.
She stopped at the front door and knocked. Moments later, the door unlocked and opened.
“Good evening,” Raven said. “James Reed?” She asked this despite recognizing him from his photos.
“Hi, there,” James tentatively responded. “Can I help you?”
“I’m hoping you can.” She pulled her badge from her hip and held it up. “My name is Detective Stacy Raven. I’m a homicide investigator with the LAPD.” She clipped her badge back on her hip. “I’m looking into the death of Jessie Jacobson, and I was hoping you could answer some questions about that.”
“So late?”
“I understand that it’s late. And I apologize for that. But in the wake of homicides, we need to move quickly. That includes meeting with Jessie’s acquaintances. I understand you two were friends?”
“Yeah. Very good friends.”
“I see. So can I ask you some questions?”
He hesitated for a second. “Sure. That’s fine.” He stepped aside.
She smiled and entered. “Thanks.”
“Of course.” He closed the door and locked it. “Can I get you anything?”
“I’m fine. Thank you.”
“Okay. We can speak in the living room.”
“Great.”
He turned and started walking. She followed right behind. Inside the living room, she sat on the long couch, while he took the love seat.
“Well,” he started, “how can I help?”
“I’ll get right to it. Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to harm Jessie?”
“No.”
She gave him a look. “Really?”
“Alright. I’m assuming you researched Jessie, right?”
“Of course.”
“So you know about the work he did?”
“Criminal defense attorney. Same as you.”
James nodded. “That said, it stands to reason that someone might have wanted to retaliate against him. A vengeful client, a victim of his client—whatever. But I don’t think that’s the case. I never got an inkling that anyone was upset with him.”
“Good to know. What about the people outside of his work? Did any of them hold a grudge?”
James shook his head. “None that I can think of.”
“What about the people from his distant past? Perhaps someone from college or high school.”
“I don’t think so either.”
“So everyone loved him?”
James smirked. “I’m sure you’ve heard that a million times. But, yeah. Everyone loved him. And that isn’t empty praise. He was genuinely a good guy. He was polite, respectful, hard working. He was even good looking.”
“So female attention wasn’t a problem for him?”
“Nope. But he didn’t take advantage of this. He always treated his romantic partners with respect. So, no. I can’t think of anyone who would want to hurt him.”
“I see. What about his family members?”
James paused. “What about them?”
“Well, his relationships with everyone else was positive. What about his family? And I’m referring more to his sister. According to her, there really isn’t anyone else.”
James adjusted himself slightly. “That’s right. Jessie and Claire lost their parents a long time ago. They have uncles and cousins, but those relationships are distant.”
“Understood. So tell me about Claire.”
“When did you talk to her?”
“A couple days ago.”
“What did you discuss?”
“What we’re discussing now. Her relationship to Jessie.”
“If she already answered this, why are you asking me?”
“Because Claire gave me her interpretation. As you can probably guess, we don’t always take people at their word. We verify by checking with multiple sources.”
James shifted once more. “Their relationship was complicated.”
“How so?”
“Jessie was successful. And I’m not saying that Claire wasn’t, but she always lived in his shadow. That made for a tough dynamic.”
“Did you complicate this?”
“Huh?”
“Your relationship with Claire. Did that complicate this?”
James worked his tongue around his mouth. “Somewhat.”
“I see. And how serious was your relationship?”
“Extremely. I met Jessie in high school, and soon after, I met Claire. I completely fell for her.”
“Did she feel the same way towards you?”
“Yes.”
“And now you two are broken up?”
James nodded. “That’s right.”
“Why is that?”
“It’s personal. And besides, it doesn’t pertain to Jessie.”
“It might. And either way, I still want to know. That will help me get a big picture understanding of everything. That’s often useful.”
“I can see why. But like I said, it’s personal. I’ll just say that Claire suffered a loss, one that affected her deeply. That led to our breakup.”
“Are you referring to her hospitalization?”
James hesitated. “Yes.”
“Was Jessie connected to her hospitalization?”
“Yes.”
“In what way?”
James crossed his ankle over his knee. “If it’s alright with you, I would rather not talk about this anymore.”
“Fine. Sorry to have pried. So back to Jessie. Do you know how he died?”
“Of course. He was shot.”
“Right. But he wasn’t shot the way most people are—in the head or chest. He was shot multiple times in the stomach.”
James slowly furrowed his brow. That was telling.
“According to the ballistics report,” she continued, wanting to tap deeper into whatever she just uncovered, “the shooter fired twice while Jessie was standing. Then when he fell, the shooter stood over him and fired seven more times. Again, every bullet was to the stomach.”
James looked away.
“Mr. Reed? Mr. Reed?”
He finally looked back. “I have to ask you to leave.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I’m asking you to leave.”
“Sure. But can I ask why?”
“I need to get up early for work.”
That excuse was bullshit. It was also telling as well.
“Of course,” she said. “I understand.”
She stood and so did James. He walked them back to the entranceway where he promptly opened the door.
She stepped out and turned back. “Thank you for your time. If it’s alright with you, can I contact you later for follow-up?”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“I’m concerned for my wellbeing. I would rather you go through my lawyer.”
“Y
ou already have one?”
He shook his head.
“So this conversation prompted you to lawyer up? Hmm.” She smiled. “Have a nice night, Mr. Reed.”
Chapter 18
The following morning, Claire drove through the sunny and cool city. She headed towards Harlan’s apartment and arrived ten minutes later. Like before, she parked in the guest lot.
She exited, walked up to the second floor, and stopped at his door. After knocking, the door opened.
“Good morning,” she greeted, relieved to see Harlan wearing normal street attire.
“Good morning,” he droned.
He stepped aside, and she entered. When he closed the door and locked it, he started for the living room.
“So,” she said, walking behind him, “how did last night go?”
He paused while facing away. He stayed in that position. That was odd.
“Fine,” he finally said while turning. “It went fine.”
She slowly nodded. “Good to hear. No close calls?”
“No. Everything went smoothly.”
“Also good to hear.” She smiled. “That means you didn’t come close to killing Susan.”
He kept standing there, his face blank like always. “Right.”
She put a kink in her smile. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“Alright, then. So what did you find out?”
He gestured towards a laptop on his coffee table. “Come take a look.”
He walked over and sat before the computer. She sat beside him. She then scooted closer to view the screen. He didn’t seem to notice her closeness. That didn’t surprise her.
“Like I said,” he continued, “my plan was to image her computer. I did exactly that. All this morning, I’ve been going over the files.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t go over them last night.”
“I didn’t come straight home.”
“Where did you go?”
He hesitated for a second. “Santa Monica Pier.”
She looked to him. “You went to the pier? Why?”
He stayed facing the screen.
“Sorry,” she followed. “I didn’t mean to be nosy.” She looked back towards the screen.
“It’s fine.” He gestured towards the computer. “Most of the data is from her hard drive. But there wasn’t anything notable there.” He grabbed a wireless mouse and clicked open some folders. “There are pictures, videos, school documents, work documents—things like that.”
“Wait. This is actually her computer? Like everything-everything?”
“Yeah. I told you last night that I would get this.”
“I know. But I didn’t think you would create a perfect duplicate. I didn’t even know that was possible.”
“It’s not that complicated. The imager is essentially a backup system.”
“So this is like a restore point?”
“Exactly.”
“I see.” She pointed towards the mouse. “Do you mind?”
He lifted his hand from the device.
She leaned over, cupped the mouse, and started clicking open the folders. Unlike Harlan, she didn’t skim through the files. She paid closer attention to the documents, specifically the photos. The images encapsulated Susan’s life. And what a life it was.
Susan lived the idyllic Southern California existence. She came from money, she had a loving group of family and friends, and she vacationed all over the world. She was also attractive. That was evident in her thousands of photos, where she wore stylish clothing and beamed her perfect smile. In short, she hadn’t suffered a day in her life… until recently.
“Did you hear me?” Harlan asked.
“What?” she responded. She hadn’t heard a single word. She also didn’t notice that her palm had grown sweaty over the mouse.
“I said her Internet search history was worth looking at.”
“Oh? Why is that?”
He pointed at the mouse. “Can I?”
“Of course. Just let me close these folders.”
That was an excuse. She simply wanted time to dry off the mouse. With her hand raised slightly, she let the air dissipate her sweat.
“Here,” she said, pulling her palm back. “All yours.”
He grabbed the mouse and opened an Internet browser. “Most of her online activity is also useless. She mainly does legal research, and research on the latest fashion trends.”
“No surprise there.”
“She um… also researches pregnancies. She learns about… about how to carry healthy babies to term.”
Claire again looked at him. Harlan’s pauses weren’t characteristic of him. What was going on?
“But I found something else,” he continued.
“What?” she asked, refocusing on the screen.
“A dating website.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” He opened the site, which already had the username and password entered. He clicked the login option, and Susan’s personal page loaded.
“What the hell? Why would Susan have this? Wait. Maybe it’s old.”
“It’s not. Look at her private messages.”
Harlan opened the messages link and revealed a slew of interactions. The correspondence was between Susan and another person.
“Eric Eagleman?” she asked. “Who the hell is that?” She pointed to the mouse. “Can I?”
“Go ahead.”
She again took over and started clicking through the messages.
“I’ve already looked at them,” Harlan said. “Susan and this person clearly have a romantic connection. They also talk about going away. I don’t know if that means a vacation or something permanent.”
She narrowed her eyes while reading. Harlan was right. Susan and Eric had been speaking for months, and they were planning a getaway. That alone was bad. But worse, Susan said she was almost ready to travel. She just needed to take care of some things.
“Take care of some things?” Claire asked, still looking at the screen. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
She looked at him. “I’m betting it refers to killing Jessie. In fact, I’m sure of this.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe? Susan had a relationship with this person. Plus, they were planning to run off. Why not eliminate Jesse beforehand?”
Harlan kept looking at the screen. “It doesn’t fit.”
“What doesn’t?”
“The murder. Yes, Susan was in a relationship with another person. But I don’t think she carried out the hit. I don’t even think she ordered it.”
“What makes you so sure?”
He didn’t answer. He simply stared at the screen.
“Harlan, what makes you so sure?”
“She was heartbroken.”
“Come again?”
“She was heartbroken. When I was inside her house, I saw how devastated she was. Jessie’s death has ruined her. I believe she truly loved him. I don’t think she would’ve hurt him.”
Claire turned to face him better. “Harlan, don’t take this the wrong way, but you can’t comment on love.”
He finally looked to her.
“That wasn’t an insult,” she followed. “It’s just a fact. And you know it’s true. You don’t think like most people. You don’t experience life like most people. More to the point, you don’t undergo emotions. Love is a powerful emotion. You have to feel it to understand it. But you’re incapable of that.”
He turned back to the screen. “Perhaps you’re right.”
“I know I’m right. And I’m sorry if what I said was hurtful.” She reached out and cupped his arm. “Was it?”
He let a moment pass. “No. I don’t care.”
She gently squeezed. “And that’s okay. Just accept who you are. I certainly accept you.” She squeezed once more and let go. “So what’s next?”
“We need to piece together how the killer pulled this off.”
> “You can actually do that?”
He nodded.
“How?”
“By going to the crime scene.”
“The police already did this. And not just the detectives, but the crime scene technicians.”
“I know. But they’re approaching this from a law enforcement perspective. I’ll be approaching this as someone who kills professionally.” He looked to her. “Isn’t that why you hired me?”
She met his gaze. She also urged to scoot away. She forced herself not to. “Yes. That’s why I hired you.” She cleared her throat. “When are we going?”
“You’re not coming with me.”
“I’m not?”
“No. I need to be alone for this. That way I can concentrate.”
“Okay. If that’s what you need.”
“Thank you for understanding.”
“Absolutely. And in that case, I’ll get going.”
They both stood, and he led them towards the door.
“Once I pin down the shooter’s actions,” he said, “I’ll contact you.” He unlocked the door and opened it.
“That’ll work.” She stepped outside and turned back. “And Harlan, if you ever need to talk with someone, I’m available.”
He stared without expression, like always. She responded with an awkward smile, like always.
“Good luck,” she went on.
She turned and started for the stairs. Behind her, Harlan closed the door.
Shit. Harlan was undergoing changes. That much was obvious. But what kind of changes? And why did he insist on keeping them secret?
Chapter 19
Detective Raven walked into the station, her coffee thermos in hand. She entered the detective’s den and headed for homicide. Adams was already there. He sat at his desk while focused on his computer. For all his faults, the guy was a worker.
“What do you got?” she asked, stopping at her cubicle.
“Good morning,” he responded.
“Oh, yeah. Good morning.” She set down her belongings and leaned into his workspace. “So, what do you got?”