by Blake Pierce
She and Dolan had worked together on a case last year and kept in touch since. He was the one who’d told her that an informant in prison had reported that Kyle had expressed a desire to “gut her like a pig and bathe in her warm blood.” If anyone could find out if her ex had been somehow messing with her life, it was him.
“Hope I didn’t catch you at the beach,” Jessie teased when he picked up. Dolan was notorious for showing up to meetings with wet hair and salty skin after sneaking in a few weekday waves.
“Nah,” he answered chuckling. “I get my time in early. That gives me a chance to shower the sand out of my crotch before hitting the office.”
“Still staying classy, I see,” she jibed good-naturedly. “So the surfing’s good. How about the sobriety?”
“Just got my seven-month chip,” he said proudly. “I thought I’d get a cash prize too but no luck. Speaking of, I hear your luck hasn’t been great lately.”
“Are you referring to the social media hacks that make me look like a racist, anti-Semitic xenophobe? Or the visit from Social Services investigating whether I beat the sister I only discovered I had a few months ago?”
“I didn’t even know about the second one,” Dolan said. “At least there aren’t any serial killers out to get you.”
“The day is young,” Jessie countered. “But I’m hoping you can turn it around for me.”
“I’ll do my best. How can I help?”
Jessie wasn’t sure he could but launched in all the same.
“I have a strong suspicion that my recent run of bad luck isn’t pure chance,” she said. “It’s looking increasingly likely that someone has it in for me and is trying to make my life hell in all kinds of ways, both big and little. There are lots of contenders. We’re looking at all of them. But right near the top is my dear ex-husband. I was hoping you could help me determine if he’s the mastermind behind this whole thing.”
There was long silence on the other end of the line that didn’t fill Jessie with confidence.
“Why do I suddenly have a sinking feeling?” she asked.
“Am I that obvious?” he wondered.
“You are,” she told him. “Whatever it is, just tell me. I’m starting to become numb to bad news so there’s no better time.”
“The truth is I haven’t heard anything about him secretly plotting to ruin your life. But I do have bad news. I was actually planning to call you but was holding out hope I wouldn’t need to.”
“What is it?” she demanded.
“Your ex-husband may be getting released,” he said reluctantly.
“What! How is that possible?” Jessie said, feeling her heart pounding against her chest.
“It’s not a sure thing,” Dolan said. “Right now it’s not confirmed. But I’m hearing rumors that the prosecutor in his case may be about to file paperwork admitting improper prosecutorial conduct.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It’s all hazy right now. But supposedly he’s planning to confess to withholding evidence or something along those lines.”
Jessie was silent for a few seconds as she tried to regroup.
“Are you okay, Jessie?” Dolan asked when she didn’t speak.
“I don’t get it,” she finally said. “Even if that were true—and color me skeptical—I’m a direct eyewitness to his attempt to, you know, murder me. Shouldn’t that be enough, regardless of anything else related to evidentiary issues?”
“One would hope,” Dolan said. “But criminals have been released on technicalities before, even when the evidence was overwhelming.”
“Dolan, he killed his mistress, framed me for it, and then tried to kill me when I found out. None of that is in doubt.”
“I’m not saying it is,” he said, sounding as frustrated as she felt. “But he still might get out. It’s not a done deal though. Nothing has been filed with the court yet.”
Jessie thought for a moment, circling an idea that had just occurred to her.
“What about your informant, the one who heard Kyle threaten me in prison?” she asked. “That’s a separate crime that happened independent of the prosecutor. Charge him on that.”
“We can’t.”
“Why not?” she asked, trying to prevent her voice from filling the entire station bullpen.
“Because he’s dead,” Dolan said quietly. “His body was found in his cell yesterday.”
Again Jessie needed a few seconds before responding.
“How convenient is that?” she said bitterly. “The one guy who can attest to my ex-husband’s ongoing malice toward me dies in prison.”
“It is suspicious,” Dolan acknowledged. “But there’s no way to prove it had anything to do with what your ex said to him. That was just a lucky, unexpected moment of revelation. The informant was already in deep, trying to get details on the Monzon cartel and how the leadership at their headquarters in Monterrey, Mexico, communicates north of the border. It’s entirely possible he was taken out by them because they learned what he was doing.”
“Okay,” Jessie said, her mind racing. “You can still submit an affidavit attesting to what the informant told you about Kyle’s threat. A formal declaration from an FBI agent should hold some weight with the court, right?”
More silence on the other end of the line. Jessie waited for the inevitable bad news.
“It’s not as simple as that,” Dolan finally said. “First, the judge in the case has longstanding animosity toward the Bureau. It’s very likely that he’ll throw my statement out as hearsay and claim it’s a desperate attempt to manipulate the system. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s said something like that.”
“Can you at least try?” Jessie pleaded.
“I would. You know I would, even if there was only a one percent chance of it working. But I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because we have another informant in the gang,” Dolan said. “And acknowledging the first one puts the second one at risk. I can’t do that.”
Jessie was tempted to press the issue but knew it was out of Dolan’s hands. The Bureau wasn’t going to put a major investigation of a drug cartel at risk to, possibly futilely, keep her ex-husband in prison. She tried another tack.
“Is it possible that the prosecutor was threatened to confess to misconduct? Maybe the cartel got to him on Kyle’s behalf.”
“It’s certainly possible,” Dolan said. “We don’t have any proof of it and the prosecutor denies any pressure, of course. But that may be why Voss cozied up to them in the first place. He was in finance before prison, right? Maybe he offered to help them if they could get him out. Does that sound like something he would do?”
“Frankly, knowing Kyle, I’m surprised he didn’t come up with this idea months ago,” Jessie said.
She heard Dolan sigh through the phone.
“Listen, Jessie,” he said, sounding beleaguered, “whether or not your ex-husband has been trying to screw up your life from behind bars or not, I don’t know. But the reality is that he is almost certainly going to be a free man in a matter of days. That means that if he wasn’t already a threat to you, he’s about to be. You need to prepare yourself for that, fast.”
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Jessie was nervous.
Despite the litany of disturbing news she’d already gotten today, the idea of having a video discussion with Andrea Robinson filled her with dread. She hadn’t seen the woman since her trial. The whole time Jessie testified, Robinson stared at her with a half-smile, as if she was secretly amused that her old gal pal would accuse her of such atrocities.
Camille Guadino, the rookie from the tech unit who had quickly become Jessie’s go-to expert on all things beyond her technological knowledge set, was helping her set up the meeting in a private interrogation room. She apparently sensed Jessie’s apprehension.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Great,” Jessie said sarcastically. “Just having a challenging day. I
guess I was being selfish, thinking I’d get more than a few months without having to look over my shoulder to see if a psycho who’d already tried to kill me was about to make another go at it.”
“But I thought Andrea Robinson was convicted to a life sentence,” Camille said, confused.
Jessie realized the tech had no idea what she was talking about. Though she’d informed Ryan and Decker about Kyle’s potential release, no one else knew.
“She is,” Jessie said. “I’m just being dramatic. Are we good to go?”
“Yep,” Camille said. “Your conference starts at ten. She should already be waiting. Just hit the green button when you’re ready. Remember, she’ll be able to see you so, you know…”
“Don’t look freaked out?” Jessie finished for her.
“Something like that,” Camille said. “I’ll give you some privacy.”
She left and Jessie looked at the clock on the wall. It read 9:59 a.m. She tried to clear her head of all the muddled and conflicting concerns. A corrupt cop might be trying to destroy her life. Or her ex-husband might be. Even if he wasn’t, he was on the verge of walking the streets again.
And even though Eliza Longworth and Richard Kallas seemed to have been eliminated as likely culprits in this campaign against her, that still left two strong contenders, not including Andrea Robinson or others Jessie might not even be considering.
Meanwhile, this entire pursuit was taking valuable time away from the actual murder investigation she’d been assigned to, one in which two women’s lives were still very much at risk. Finally, she was apparently not on speaking terms with either her sister or her best friend.
So a pretty crap day all around.
The clock struck ten and she closed her eyes, aggressively shaking her head as if her troubles were cobwebs that could be physically dislodged. She couldn’t go into an interrogation of someone as wily as Andrea Robinson without a clear head. Her goal was to find out if Andy was behind the campaign to undermine her credibility and she’d need all her faculties working to make that assessment.
Deciding punctuality was secondary to clarity, she allowed herself a minute to just breathe, doing her best to, if not relax, and least unclench. When she opened her eyes again, it was 10:01. She hit “call” and waited.
After several seconds, an image popped on the screen. It was of what looked to be an empty visiting room. After a moment, a voice spoke, though no one appeared on camera.
“This is Assistant Warden Kimberly Stephens at the Twin Towers Correctional Facility. To whom am I speaking?”
“This is Jessie Hunt, forensic profiler with the LAPD, Central Station.”
“Hello, Ms. Hunt,” Stephens said. “We’ve coordinated this video on your behalf at the request of Dr. Janice Lemmon. I have to admit that it’s highly unusual. Were it not for Dr. Lemmon’s personal entreaty, we wouldn’t be doing this.”
“I appreciate the consideration,” Jessie said. “I don’t anticipate this taking too long. And if Ms. Robinson is uncooperative we can just shut it down. Is there anything special I should be aware of before I speak with her?”
“Yes. Andrea has a regimented schedule, as do all our residents. This break in the pattern of the day has her very excited, even though she doesn’t know why she’s here. She’s currently in the adjoining room and I can see her grinning enthusiastically. I know of your history interviewing mentally ill offenders and your reputation, which until recently was quite stellar. So I’m sure I don’t need to go over all our procedures. They’re standard in a facility like this.”
Jessie tried to push past the reference to her sullied reputation, almost certainly related to the news about her faked social media posts.
“Understood,” she said, leaving that topic untouched. “Is she currently medicated?”
“No. We’re holding off on her first daily dose until she talks to you,” Stephens said. “I’ll bring her in now.”
A few seconds later Jessie was greeted by the giddy face of Andrea Robinson. Despite being incarcerated, without any access to makeup or her hairdresser, she still cut a stylish figure.
She looked much as Jessie remembered her. Her blonde hair was cut shorter than it had been before. But Andy had never gone in for heavy makeup in her country club days, so the total lack of it now didn’t make much difference. In fact, the fresh-faced look made her appear even younger than her thirty-three years.
She was still attractive in that nondescript way that had made her seem so unthreatening when they’d first met. The only features that jumped out now, as they had back then, were her eyes. Bright blue, they twinkled with what Jessie had originally misjudged as amiable playfulness. In truth, that gleam suggested darker mischief.
At first glance at least, Andy seemed to have adjusted to life behind bars. Even in her assigned yellow uniform, she looked more like a gal enjoying a lazy stay-at-home weekend than a woman behind bars for murder.
“Is that Jessie Hunt?” she asked, sounding genuinely enthused at the sight of the woman she’d tried to poison. “Of all the people I thought I might see on that screen, you were definitely not at the top of the list. How’s it going, girlfriend?”
“Hi, Andy,” Jessie said evenly. “You’re looking well.”
Andy grinned broadly.
“Well, I’ve found that if I look at this place less as a prison and more as a spa with really good security, it helps me keep a positive attitude.”
“That’s great to hear,” Jessie said, not entirely sure how to broach the subject she’d called about.
Andy sensed that her enthusiasm for their chat wasn’t mutual and reined in her zeal a fraction.
“Enough about me though. How are you doing? I hear you’ve really made a name for yourself since…our time together.”
“How did you hear that?” Jessie asked, wondering if this was an admission that she’d been tracking her.
“You’re kidding, right?” Andy asked incredulously. “We are allowed to watch TV in here, assuming we behave. And you’ve been on the news a lot. If you’re not catching serial killers, you’re taking down corrupt cops or catching killer hookers. Kudos.”
“Thanks,” Jessie said, trying not to look surprised that residents were allowed to watch the news. That was a no-no at most other facilities she’d visited.
“Of course,” Andy continued, “it sounds like it’s not all peaches and cream. I saw a report just last night suggesting that you’d posted some really awful things, the sort of comments I’d only hear people mutter under their breaths back in my country club days. I have to say I was shocked. It didn’t sound like the Jessie Hunt I know.”
“It’s not,” Jessie assured her, deciding this was her best chance to get a real reaction. “It turns out someone hacked my social media accounts. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
Andy kept grinning, giving no indication that she found the question accusatory.
“No. I was lucky enough never to have that happen to me,” she said without any obvious hint of deception. “And of course, it’s not an issue for me in here. It’s not like they let me scroll through my Insta during yard time. But I’m glad to hear it wasn’t you. Otherwise my perception of you would have really taken a hit. Did they catch the bastards yet?”
“Not yet,” Jessie said, deciding not to press too hard. She wasn’t certain whether Andy really misunderstood the question or was being purposefully dense. Her gut told her it was the latter but since she couldn’t be sure, she didn’t want to tip her hand.
“You get many visitors these days, Andy?” she asked.
Robinson’s face darkened and she looked at the screen curiously.
“I thought that kind of information was confidential,” she said coolly.
“It is,” Jessie answered. “That’s why I’m asking—because I don’t know.”
“Are you trying to make me feel bad, Jessie?”
“Why do you ask that?”
“Because other than t
his ‘visit’ with you, no one has come to see me but psychiatrists and lawyers. It’s actually been very hurtful.”
“To be fair, you are a murderer and a sociopath,” Jessie reminded her. “You’re not exactly a fun hang.”
“But you know that’s not true. I am a fun hang. I was already a murderer and a sociopath when you met me and we had a great time together. If it hadn’t been for the messiness at the end, I think we’d be thick as thieves right now.”
“By the messiness,” Jessie noted, “I assume you’re referring to your attempt to poison and then stab me?”
“You really hold a grudge, don’t you?”
“That’s actually what I was wondering about you,” Jessie replied. “Is there any chance you’re nursing a secret resentment toward me, one that you’d like to act on?”
Andy stared at her silently for several seconds as the grin on her face slowly disappeared, replaced by a cold, tight-lipped grimace. Jessie thought she might end the interview right then. But eventually she answered.
“Jessie, sweetie, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think of you every day and wonder what my life would be like if things had gone differently that night at my house. And I can’t honestly say that I’ve never had a sour feeling toward you in the time since. But if you’re suggesting that little old me, trapped in a psychiatric prison under constant surveillance, would somehow be capable of doing you harm out there in the real world, maybe you’re the one who needs the straitjacket.”
The smile had returned but not the warmth.
“That’s not a denial,” Jessie pointed out.
“Isn’t it?” Andy asked before looking off-camera and speaking to someone out of sight. “I think we’re done here.”
Two seconds later the connection ended and Andy disappeared from the screen, if not from Jessie’s mind.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
“Can I talk to you?”
Jessie was just returning to her desk when Ryan approached her with the question. Something about his tone made her nervous but she nodded and followed him to the station’s courtyard. They sat on a bench next to a thick-trunked tree.