THE PERFECT IMAGE

by Blake Pierce

  “Crystal,” Andy said, beaming. “I will await your decision with bated breath.”

  She hung up without another word, stood, and indicated to the guard that she was ready to return to her cell. As she was escorted from the room, Jessie was left staring at the empty space behind the glass barrier, wondering if she’d just made a terrible mistake.

  She decided to talk to the one person who might know the answer to that.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Kat was already waiting.

  When Jessie walked into the downtown coffeehouse where they so often met, her friend was seated in a back corner table, far from prying ears. She saw Jessie, waved, and held up the drink she’d bought for her.

  Jessie headed in that direction, passing by the mid-morning crowd, which consisted mostly of people sitting alone at tables, hunched over laptops. Kat stood to greet her in her normal work uniform—jeans, a casual shirt, and a brown leather jacket.

  As usual, her dirty blonde hair was in a ponytail. Unless other customers took notice of the IED-induced long, vertical scar under her left eye, other customers wouldn’t have any hint that they were in the presence of a former Army Ranger who had served in Afghanistan.

  As she walked over, Jessie could hardly believe that less than two years ago, back when Kat headed up security at a psychiatric prison for men, the two of them had constantly been at odds. Now they were best friends, despite some recent, very rough spots.

  “What do I owe you for the drink?” Jessie asked as she sat down.

  “It’s on me,” Kat said. “I got a nice retainer this morning so I’m flush.”

  “Thanks,” Jessie said. “What’s the case that got you so freewheeling with your cash?”

  “It’s pretty boring actually. The owner of an accounting firm discovered about thirty-seven grand missing. He thinks one of his employees may be siphoning off small amounts from client payments, but he has no idea who it is so he can’t trust anyone there to investigate. Enter Katherine Gentry, private investigator. He provided me with a mountain of documents that may have the answer in them.”

  “I didn’t know you took on forensic accounting cases,” Jessie said. “When did you start doing that?”

  “This morning when I heard what he was offering as a retainer. I figure I’ll learn as I go along.”

  Jessie couldn’t help but laugh.

  “I hope that works out for you.”

  “I have every confidence,” Kat said without much confidence. “But that’s not why we’re here. You said you wanted to talk to me about Andy Robinson. What has she done now?”

  “Nothing actually,” Jessie replied, taking a sip of her coffee. “She made me an offer I’m not sure I can refuse.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Remember how you told me she called you out of the blue that night to warn you that the Night Hunter would use you to get to me?”

  “Of course,” Kat said, “And that’s exactly what he did when he planted a piece of paper with an address written on it in a vehicle at a car dealership, where he was sure it would eventually be found. He knew I’d go to the address, discover the building across the street with the dead body, and call you. That’s why he planted those listening devices in there. And like an idiot, I did exactly that, which led him to where you guys were hiding.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up over that,” Jessie replied. “Anyone would have fallen for it. I’m more interested in how she knew. She promised she’d tell me if I wrote a letter supporting a transfer to a different facility.”

  “You’re not going to do it, are you?” Kat asked incredulously.

  “I’m thinking about it,” Jessie admitted. “If she has a pipeline to information that could be valuable, I can’t just ignore that. Besides, any facility she goes to will be as secure, if not more so, as Twin Towers.”

  Kat nodded in understanding but it was clear she was skeptical.

  “Do you really want to open yourself back up to communication with this woman? I mean, she did try to kill you. And from the way she talked to me that night, it sounds like she’s fixated on you in a less than healthy way. With everything going on with both Hannah’s and Ryan’s recoveries, it seems like an unnecessary burden.”

  Kat had a point. Kat didn’t even know about Hannah shooting the Night Hunter and she thought the kid was a handful. And even though Ryan was doing better physically, he was still struggling emotionally.

  “It is a lot,” she conceded, “and that doesn’t even include the engageme—”

  She stopped mid-word, realizing that she wasn’t supposed to mention Ryan’s proposal; that she was the one who’d insisted on secrecy. Feeling her face redden and her heart start to pound, she desperately tried to think of some other word to replace the one she’d started to say. Looking at Kat, she knew it was useless. Her friend’s eyes were wide and her jaw was open.

  “You’re engaged?” she demanded.

  “I didn’t say that I was—”

  “You absolutely did,” Kat countered gleefully. “Don’t try to walk it back. You’re a frickin’ engaged person.”

  “Lower your voice,” Jessie whispered, feeling weirdly panicked. “Yes, I’m engaged. But it’s supposed to be a secret. Ryan will lose it if he finds out I told someone and he can’t.”

  “Why can’t he tell anyone?” Kat asked, perplexed.

  Jessie sighed in embarrassed frustration.

  “Because I asked him not to.”

  “Why?” Kat asked, flabbergasted.

  “I…I just wanted some zone of privacy. He proposed the morning after the Night Hunter confrontation. I was worried about Hannah. I was worried about him. And I knew that if I walked into our debriefs and media hits with a ring on my finger, it would be what everyone focused on. So I made him promise not to say anything until all this madness settles down.”

  “Hasn’t it settled down yet?” Kat asked.

  “Yes, somewhat. But you know how it is with us—nothing ever settles down completely. And I’ve started to wonder if it’s such a great idea to pile a wedding on top of all the chaos in our lives right now.”

  “So are you saying you’re having second thoughts?” Kat asked.

  “No. Not about him. Not about us. It’s just that I’m all turned around these days. I wonder if maybe this just isn’t the right time.”

  They both sat quietly for a few moments, sipping their drinks.

  “Is it at least okay for me to offer you congratulations?” Kat asked. “Your stud of a boyfriend—make that fiancé—wants to grow old with you. That seems congratulations-worthy all on its own.”

  “Of course. Yes. Thank you,” Jessie said. “Just please don’t breathe a word of it to anyone; not until I’m ready.”

  “My lips are sealed,” Kat said, miming that action before leaning close and whispering, “Can I at least see the ring?”

  Jessie cracked a smile despite herself. The ring should have been in the safe at home but for whatever reason, she’d been taking it with her everywhere. She pulled the box out of her pocket and opened it.

  “That’s beautiful,” Kat admired. “Considering that he’s on a cop’s salary, it’s pretty impressive. Put it on.”

  Jessie did so with less reluctance than she thought appropriate. She had to admit it looked, and felt, good. Kat fixed her with a stern stare.

  “I hope you two work this out soon,” she said, “because people need to see that rock on your finger. It’d be a disgrace to keep it in the dark.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Jessie said, blushing yet again.

  Before Kat could pepper her with any other questions, Jessie’s phone rang. It was Captain Decker.

  “I thought you were on leave,” Kat said, looking at the screen.

  “It ended today,” Jessie said. “I guess he held off as long as he could.”

  She answered the phone. Before she could even get in a word, Decker started in.

  “Hunt, it’s a good thing you’re back on
the clock,” he said urgently. “We need you.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Jessie was at LAPD’s downtown Central Station ten minutes later.

  Ryan was waiting for her when she pulled into the underground parking lot. As he walked over, she noted that his coma-induced limp from last summer was almost gone. Standing at his full six feet, he had regained some of his imposing stature. And while he wasn’t back to his pre-hospitalization 200 pounds of muscle, with intense daily workouts, he was getting there. Luckily, his familiar black hair and kind, brown eyes had never changed.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked anxiously as soon as she got out of the car.

  “Nothing,” she lied. “Why?”

  “When you texted me asking to meet down here before we talked to Decker, I started to worry.”

  “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to freak you out. I just wanted to go over how we’re handling things on the engagement front before we go up there.”

  “Seems pretty straightforward to me,” he said with a shrug. “We just act like nothing has changed. I don’t see why it would come up.”

  Though he sounded amenable, Jessie got the sense that keeping it a secret was starting to wear on him. As much as she understood, especially now that she’d accidentally let it slip to Kat, she held firm.

  “Okay, sounds good.”

  Ryan tilted his head curiously.

  “You didn’t need me to come down here for that. Secrecy was already standard operating procedure. What’s the real reason I’m down here, Jessie Hunt?”

  She chuckled despite her nervousness. He really did know her well.

  “I’m just not sure if I should accept whatever this case is. Did Decker tell you anything about it?”

  “Nope—just that it’s big. He thinks that it’s an ideal case to jumpstart the bigger, better HSS. Why wouldn’t you accept?”

  Jessie tried to think of the best way to broach what she knew would be an uncomfortable subject.

  “There’s just a lot going on,” she finally said. “I already cancelled one seminar at UCLA because of my leave. I’m really concerned about Hannah. She still hasn’t told Dr. Lemmon about what really happened up in Wildpines. And I realize that you’re on the mend and back on active duty, but we both know you’re still struggling with what happened to Trembley. It’s like you have some invisible anvil on your back that you refuse to throw off.”

  Ryan gave her a bittersweet smile. She could tell he was doing his best to hide how much he still blamed himself for the death of Detective Alan Trembley, who had died at the Night Hunter’s hands while the two men were partnered up.

  “I love that you’re worried about me,” he said soothingly. “But trust me, I’m working through it. I’ll be okay. And I understand your apprehensions about taking a case with Hannah’s situation. But the world can’t just stop because things are hard right now. Of course I’ll support you in whatever you want to do, but I think taking a big case might actually do you some good right now.”

  Jessie knew he really would support whatever decision she made. But she could tell that he was champing at the bit to dive into something big. He was literally bouncing on the balls of his feet as he spoke.

  “I guess we better get up there then,” she said.

  “Great,” he replied, leaning over to give her a kiss. “Just one thing.”

  “What?” she asked.

  “If you want to keep our engagement a secret, you might want to take off that ring.”

  *

  The second Jessie saw Captain Decker, she noticed a change in him.

  When they walked into his office, he was standing up to greet them. His face was still more wrinkled than any sixty-one-year-old man’s should be and his few tufts of white hair still jutted out wildly as if he’d just been in a wind tunnel. But his normally stooped posture seemed slightly straighter and there was a brightness in his eyes, a jauntiness in his step, that was unusual for him. It was obvious why.

  Since the recent run of solved cases, including the murder of a social media star and the end of the decades-long serial-killing spree of the Night Hunter, the world was his oyster. Media attention was glowing. Headquarters had expanded his unit’s budget and his staff.

  The unit—Homicide Special Section—specialized in cases that had high profiles or intense media scrutiny, often involving multiple victims or serial killers. Now HSS had carte blanche to investigate any high-profile case in the city limits that Decker deemed part of their purview, regardless of whether the crime took place in downtown Los Angeles, the San Fernando Valley, or as far away as Pacific Palisades.

  “You seem chipper today, Captain,” Ryan said, noting the same positive energy that Jessie had picked up on.

  “Things have been worse,” Decker conceded, apparently constitutionally unable to actually describe himself as happy. “I’m glad to see you two. As I mentioned, I’ve got a hot case for you.”

  “Do you ever give us any other kind?” Jessie asked.

  “Now that you mention it, I guess not,” Decker replied. “But this one is hotter than most. Do you know who Simon Fahey is?”

  “The name is familiar,” Ryan said.

  “It should be,” Decker told him. “Fahey is one of the wealthiest men in Los Angeles. He started Pacific Advisory, a lobbying firm that advocates for Southern California businesses in D.C. It goes without saying that he’s plugged in politically all over town.”

  “What did he do?” Jessie asked.

  “It’s not him. It’s his wife, Gillian—thirty-one years old; two kids; worked as an executive at a tech firm in Playa Vista. She was murdered last night in their house in Santa Monica; sliced up with one of her own knives. The housekeeper found her this morning in their pantry. Thank god the kids weren’t awake yet.”

  “How old are they?” Jessie asked as pity twisted her insides.

  “I’m not sure,” Decker admitted. “I was only told they’re little.”

  “The husband’s not a suspect?” Ryan asked skeptically.

  “Not based on what we know so far. He was in Washington for a business roundtable with several senators. My understanding is that he caught a private plane back the second he heard. He’ll be landing soon. From what I’ve been told, he’s saying and doing all the right things so far. In fact, he was the one who requested HSS take on the case after it had already been assigned to detectives at Santa Monica PD. They obliged, of course.”

  “Great,” Ryan said, “so we’ll be investigating on someone else’s turf, right after their own detectives were pulled. I’m sure there won’t be any animosity from the folks there.”

  Decker ignored his sarcasm.

  “You’ve dealt with tougher situations,” he said unsympathetically. “Besides, HSS didn’t request the case, the victim’s husband did. You’re in the clear.”

  “Officially, sure,” Jessie agreed. “But why do I suspect that you would have fought for the case even if it hadn’t fallen in your lap?”

  “I might have,” Decker admitted, “but not for the reason you think. Gillian Fahey isn’t the only victim. Another woman was murdered in much the same way about a week and a half ago.”

  “What?” Ryan exclaimed. “Why don’t I know about it?”

  “Because we only made the connection today,” Decker said. “Until now, there was no reason to think the first murder was anything worthy of HSS. Besides, it took place right around the time you guys were up in the mountains and everyone else in the unit was searching for the Night Hunter. It probably would have stayed off our radar if there wasn’t this second murder.”

  “Who’s the other victim?” Jessie wanted to know.

  “Her name is Siobhan Pierson. She’s a bit older than Gillian Fahey, forty-two. She was a socialite, married into money. Her husband, Ian, is an heir to the Pierson Farms fortune.”

  “Never heard of it,” Ryan said.

  “They’re based in the Central Valley,” Decker explained. “They grow something
like one-sixth of the entire country’s almonds.”

  “What makes you think the cases are connected?” Jessie asked.

  “Pierson lived in the same part of town. She was also killed in her home, at night, with one of her own knives. Like Fahey, the attack was precise; no wild stabbing everywhere. There were just a few deep cuts near major arteries. Her husband found her later that night when he got home from visiting Pierson Farms headquarters in Bakersfield.”

  “So that’s another husband off the hook?” Jessie asked.

  “I believe that’s what the initial investigation found but you’ll want to revisit that,” Decker instructed.

  “And she’s from Santa Monica too?” Ryan assumed.

  “Actually, no—they live in Brentwood, but their house is only a few minutes from the Faheys’. Still, that’s one less bureaucratic hassle for you since Brentwood is LAPD territory.”

  “That doesn’t mean they’ll be happy that we’re taking over,” Ryan countered.

  “No, but it smooths things over a little bit,” Decker offered. “Anyway, you two will be primary on the case but feel free to make use of other detectives you might need. Nettles and Valentine are doing required training today but Reid and Bray are in between cases, so they’re available if you need them.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jessie said. “Who’s Valentine?”

  Ryan and Decker exchanged a knowing look.

  “I guess when you’re just a consultant and don’t show up every day like I do, you miss out on the office scuttlebutt,” Ryan teased.

  She was about to reply in kind, but Decker was too quick.

  “Susannah Valentine is my first hire since they upped the budget,” he said without Ryan’s snark. “She worked patrol here for half a decade before taking a detective slot up in Santa Barbara. She was there for two years but her mom got sick and she wanted to move back to L.A. so she put in for the open position.”

  “I gather she’s pretty good, if you picked her over LAPD candidates,” Jessie observed.