The Perfect Mistress (A Jessie Hunt Psychological Suspense Thriller—Book Fifteen)

by Blake Pierce

  As she slogged through the calf-high snow she looked up. It was completely dark now and there wasn’t a cloud in the clear night sky, only countless shiny stars, almost none of which she could have seen back in L.A. By the time she reached the bench, she was panting and she could feel beads of sweat running down her back.

  She sat down and sighed heavily, watching her breath appear briefly before fading into the darkness. She couldn’t help but think that, even though they were only getting two nights up here, it had been worth it just to get away. Like Hannah had said, she could breathe here.

  She pulled out her phone, curious to check what the rental rates were on cabins in the area. She immediately noticed multiple missed calls from Kat. In that moment, she felt as if an invisible vice was squeezing her chest. She checked and saw that the phone had accidentally been turned to silent.

  Ignoring the sense of dread that suddenly consumed her, she was just starting to call her friend back when the phone rang. She looked down and saw that it was Kat. The invisible vice spread its grip down to her stomach as she answered.

  “Hey,” she said, struggling to keep her tone level.

  “Jessie,” Kat said, her voice tight with anxiety. “We’ve got a problem.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY NINE

  Jessie mentally ordered herself to stay calm.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “I’m at Garland Hunt Medical Supply. You were right. The crime scene team didn’t find anything. No prints, no DNA. But something felt off. The Night Hunter wouldn’t have sent us on that sick treasure hunt for no reason. And then I started wondering how he could have known I found the crumpled note in the Toyota Civic in that used car lot. I figured he had to have set up some kind of camera to keep an eye on the place. That got me thinking that maybe he did that here too. So I asked Jamil to do another check. He just finished. There are no cameras but he found something else.”

  “What?” Jessie asked, though she already knew the answer.

  “There are multiple listening devices hidden throughout the building,” Kat told her. “Jamil’s still looking but so far he’s found three, including one close to where I stood when I was talking to you. Jamil says they’re extremely sophisticated, sensitive enough to pick up the other end of the conversation, even if you weren’t on speaker. So the Night Hunter probably heard our entire conversation. The problem is, I don’t remember exactly what we said.”

  The pit in Jessie’s stomach now seemed to swallow her entire body.

  “I do,” she managed to whisper. “We talked about helping out on a case that that was about to blow up and get major media attention.”

  “Oh, that’s not so bad,” Kat said relieved. “That could be any case. He’d have a half dozen to choose from. How would he possibly know which one you meant?”

  “What’s the biggest case you’ve heard about in the last twelve hours?” Jessie asked.

  “There’s always something,” Kat replied. “Actually the one that got the most attention today wasn’t even here. It was some quadruple murder up in the San Bernardino Mount—.”

  She stopped mid-word. Her subsequent gulp was audible.

  “If you know about it, he knows about it,” Jessie said under her breath. “How long ago did you first learn about the story?”

  “Let me check,” Kat said. After a few seconds she replied. “I got an alert on my phone. That was at 3:31 p.m. That’s barely over four hours ago. How long does it take to get there?”

  “Even with traffic, probably not four hours. I’ve got to go.”

  “Should I call anyone?” Kat asked quickly.

  “Call everyone,” she said and hung up.

  She stood up, unsure what to do next. Part of her wanted to just scream for Ryan and Hannah to come out on the porch now. But there was no way to know for certain if the Night Hunter was already here and she couldn’t risk tipping him off if he was.

  She sat back down and forced herself to think. He had to know they were in Wildpines. It would be foolish to assume otherwise. But even as small as the town was, it was paranoia to think he could know about Rich’s cabin. Or was it?

  The man knew about Decker. That meant he could probably discover the relationship between him and Rich McClane. And if he found that, it wouldn’t hard to search for McClane’s link to the town and learn that he owned a cabin here. Even if he didn’t make that connection yet, he’d know to tail Rich, in the hopes of getting him alone and forcing information out of him.

  Trying to act casual, she pulled off her gloves and texted Rich: The Night Hunter knows we’re in Wildpines. He may be here now. He probably knows that you know Decker. That puts you in danger. Have Garrett watch your back.

  She was about to add the line, “send the cavalry” but then stopped. If the Night Hunter was here at the cabin, he might already have Ryan and Hannah incapacitated. If he heard sirens coming, it was possible that he might run, but she doubted it. After coming so close to killing her, Ryan, and Hannah just a week ago, it was unthinkable that he would back out now. If he came all the way up here, he was committed. He wanted to finish the job. He’d kill them and face capture before he’d run.

  She sent the text without the request for help, then briefly considered texting Ryan or Hannah to warn them. But that led to the same concern. If the Night Hunter was already in the cabin with control of Ryan and Hannah, he’d be the one to see the text. He’d know she knew and he might just kill them.

  The only advantage she had at this moment was that he didn’t know that she suspected he was here now. Her seeming ignorance of the situation was her disguise. Until she knew her family was safe, she had to maintain the illusion.

  Jessie put her phone back on silent, stood up again, and walked toward the cabin. As she moved, she stuffed her gloves in a pocket, unzipped her jacket and surreptitiously released the clasp on her gun holster. She swallowed hard, though her mouth was dry from the cold and the apprehension. Her legs felt wobbly and she knew it wasn’t just because of the deep snow.

  She walked slowly, listening for any unusual sound or voice. But the snow deadened everything, a natural silencer. She got to the porch and stood there for a moment, pretending to catch her breath. She couldn’t see any movement inside through the window. She opened the door, looking around while trying not to seem like she was looking around. Nothing appeared out of place. She took off the jacket and hung it on the rack by the front door, which she then locked.

  As she stepped from the hall into the living room, she saw that the TV was on, though the volume was low. The large lamp in the corner of the room was off so the TV offered the only source of light in the room. Ryan was slumped on the couch. She couldn’t tell if he was sleeping, unconscious, or worse. She inhaled deeply, prepared to call out to him, but forced herself not to. Hannah was nowhere to be found.

  She wandered nonchalantly into the living room, pretending not to notice Ryan’s status as she looked at the screen.

  “What are you watching?” she asked casually.

  He startled awake, his eyes cloudy with sleep.

  “Sorry, he mumbled. “I guess I drifted off. Inception was on.”

  “That’s a good one,” Jessie said, hiding her relief that he was alive as she moved over behind him, “maybe we should see if Hannah wants to watch too. Do you know where she is?”

  “I think she’s in her room,” he said, sitting up straight with a perplexed look and rubbing his face. She knew why. They had just watched the same movie a few days ago on the safe house couch. He continued, “But she—.”

  Before he could finish, she leaned over the couch, wrapped her arms around his neck, and gave him a kiss on the lips. Holding him tight so his body wouldn’t move suddenly, she whispered “Don’t react. He’s here.”

  Impressively, Ryan gave no indication that he’d heard her. Instead he called out to the other room.

  “Hey Hannah, come in here for a minute,” he said. “We want to show you something cool.”
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  “Can it wait?” came the annoyed reply. “I’m FaceTiming someone.” Jessie had never been so happy to get an irritated response from her sister.

  “Just come out for a minute,” Jessie insisted. “I promise you can go right back. We just want you to check this out.”

  After a long pause that made Jessie worry that something had happened, they heard her say, “Hold on; I’m coming.”

  Hannah trudged out of her room and joined them, standing at the entrance to the room.

  “Come over here and look at this,” Jessie said, pointing at the TV. “You’ve never seen this movie.”

  Hannah looked at the screen, and then stared at her sister incredulously. She started to say something but Jessie spoke first.

  “You really should check it out,” she said with a fake smile plastered across her face. “It’s very cool. The whole premise is that people can sneak into your dreams, into your world without you knowing. You can’t be sure if the reality around you is what you think it is.”

  Hannah studied Jessie’s unblinking eyes and her forced grin. For another second she seemed confused. And then, all at once, she didn’t.

  “Sounds cool,” she said, before slowly walking over and sitting down next to Ryan.

  “Why don’t you guys get under the blankets and I’ll be right back,” Jessie said, handing Ryan the thick cover resting on the arm of the couch. “I think the fire needs stoking.”

  She walked over to the fireplace, knelt down, and began poking at the logs, sending sparks everywhere as she tried to think. If the Night Hunter hadn’t already gotten to Ryan and Hannah, then maybe he wasn’t in the house. Maybe he had gotten stuck in traffic and wasn’t even in town yet. She wanted to believe it. But she couldn’t. She had to proceed as if he’d already set his plan in motion.

  After having thoroughly battered the logs, she left the poker tip lying among the embers and stood upright again, looking around the room. He was here, somewhere in this house. He could have attacked when Jessie was outside but he hadn’t; because that wasn’t his plan. He wanted this to last. He wanted to savor it.

  If she was going to beat him, she had to change the dynamic. She had to convince him to play by her rules, not his. And as counterintuitive as it was, the best way to do that was to let him know she was in on the game. Ignoring the thumping of her heart, she cleared her throat and spoke.

  “Are you going to hide all night?” she called out loud enough that her voice echoed throughout the house, “or are you going to show yourself so we can finish this thing like equals? Don’t you want to know once and for all if I’m better than Garland? Or are you too scared to find out?”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Ryan and Hannah both gasped, shocked at her decision. There were several seconds of silence before she heard a static-y, crackling sound. It was coming from the back of the cabin. She peered down the dark hall in that direction. Suddenly a voice cut the through the static.

  “Haven’t you ever heard of foreplay, Jessie?” a familiar voice asked playfully.

  She turned on the hall light. In the distance she saw a small device on the floor just inside the wooden back door, which had a window up top and a small doggy door at the base. The device looked like the receiver unit of a baby monitor. The Night Hunter must have placed it there.

  “When you say that,” she yelled down the hall, hoping her voice sounded more confident than she felt, “it makes me think that in addition to your inability to appreciate the value of human life, you’re probably not great boyfriend material either.”

  There was another long silence. When he finally responded, the Night Hunter sounded less amused.

  “There’s no point in stalling with pathetic attempts to goad me, Jessie. No one can help you anymore. Not the LAPD. Not your private eye friend, your bleating sister, or your cowardly, enfeebled boyfriend. You’re finally going to learn what you’re made of. Did Garland Moses train you well enough? Are you his equal or just a sad facsimile of the original? I know that question has been eating at you ever since he died. Now you can find out once and for all. But for that to happen, you have to do as I say.”

  “Why would I do that?” she demanded.

  Without warning, something slammed up against the back door window. It took a second to process that it was a person, an older woman with curly gray hair. Her glasses made a clinking sound as her face was smushed up against the glass. There was a gag in her mouth. Behind her, with a gun to her head, was the Night Hunter.

  “Because if you don’t,” he said, his already cold voice made almost otherworldly by the buzz of the baby monitor, “this lovely old lady’s brains are going to end up all over the back porch. Do you understand?”

  Jessie, her blood running cold, nodded that she did.

  “Good. So here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to toss your gun into the kitchen; same with your phone. Your sister and boyfriend will follow suit. Then you will come open this door and return to where you’re standing now. If you do anything else, this woman dies. If either Ryan or Hannah moves from the couch, this woman dies. If anyone makes a sudden move, this woman dies. Got it?”

  “Got it,” Jessie said. She didn’t have much choice so she slid her gun and phone into the other room. Ryan and Hannah did the same with their phones.

  “Your gun too, Detective Hernandez.”

  “I don’t have it,” Ryan yelled back. “It was taken after it was used to stop a killer earlier this afternoon.”

  “Ah yes, that story about the brave, local yokel deputy seemed too good to be true to me,” the Night Hunter said. “Still, if I find that you’re lying, this woman…well, you get the idea. Now come here and unlock and open the door, Jessie.”

  She walked slowly toward him, trying to think of a way out of this. Nothing came to mind. As she approached the window, she saw the terrified look in the older woman’s face. Her glasses, whose frames had little flowers on them, fogged up with her own panicked breath. Jessie feared she might have a heart attack before he got a chance to shoot her. She opened the door and took a step back.

  “Now facing me, walk backward to where you were before,” the Night Hunter said, shoving the older woman into the house and placing the baby monitor transmitter on the floor next to the receiver.

  As she took small slow, backward steps, Jessie got a good look at him for the first time. Until now, she’d seen him mostly in fuzzy surveillance camera screenshots and composite drawings. She had glimpsed him once in person, the night he murdered and scalped a neighbor and used her hair as a disguise to get into her house.

  Physically, he was unimposing. He was clearly well into his seventies and he moved like it, shuffling more than walking, and with a pronounced limp. Jessie gathered it was a result of falling from Garland Moses’ two-story apartment balcony during their altercation all those years ago. He wore glasses and his gray hair was neatly parted to the side and appeared to be held down by a thick hair cream. His face was wrinkled and his back was hunched. Other than an angry, horizontal scar that cut almost four inches across his forehead, he looked like any other, frail elderly man. But as broken as his body seemed, his eyes were alive with energy.

  She could see the glee in them. He’d been waiting for this for months, possibly longer. And yet, she doubted this moment was just about her. Yes, he wanted to test Garland Moses’ protégé. But this was about more than that.

  Over twenty years ago, Garland had nearly caught him and almost killed him. Though he survived their encounter, the Night Hunter was forced into hiding, injured and unable to resume his murderous vocation for fear of re-igniting the interest of multiple law enforcement agencies. She suspected he always harbored the desire to come for Garland, to pay him back. But when Garland was murdered by Jessie’s ex-husband, he was deprived of that payback.

  This was the closest he would ever get. By not just killing Jessie, but besting her too, he believed he would finally get vengeance on her mentor. He could snuff out the per
son that Garland thought worthy of teaching, the woman who could take his place. She wondered if she could use that belief against him.

  “It feels weird to call you Night Hunter,” she said as conversationally as she could. “Is there a name I can use? I mean, we’ll learn it eventually, when the forensic people work over your corpse. But until then, what should I call you?”

  He laughed with malevolent sincerity.

  “I love your confidence, Jessie,” he said. “Unfortunately, should the day ever come when my body is tested, it will be very disappointing. My fingerprints have been burned off. All my teeth have been replaced. Most of my crimes took place before DNA testing was in regular use and even back in the old days, I was very careful. I’m not dead yet but I’m already a ghost. Nonetheless, a name seems appropriate in such an informal setting. So you can call me Wally.”

  “Okay, Wally,” Jessie said, now back in the living room. “So how do you see this playing out?”

  Wally came out of the hall into the living room and Jessie saw him eyeing Hannah and Ryan to make sure they weren’t hiding anything. She heard Hannah gasp slightly when she saw the old man and his equally elderly hostage but she wasn’t sure why.

  “Stand up,” he instructed both of them. “All of you turn around and lift your shirts above your waist. Jessie and Detective Hernandez, do the same with your pant legs. I hope you’re not hiding any surprises attached to your ankle.”

  They did as he said. When he was satisfied, Wally turned his attention back to Jessie and picked up like they’d never been interrupted.

  “How do I see this playing out? That’s an excellent question. Unfortunately, despite all my machinations, my plans were complicated by your notorious Southern California traffic. You can understand how excited I was when I learned that despite being in hiding, you were involved in some case that was about to break in the media. When I heard about the Wildpines murder spree, it wasn’t hard to confirm it was you. Your Captain Decker went to the police academy with Undersheriff McClane, who has a cabin here. Any doubt I had was erased when I looked at the local paper’s website with its story referencing two mysterious investigators—a man and a woman—interrogating locals. So I hopped right in the car. Little did I know that leaving mid-afternoon on a Wednesday, a 110 mile trip would take three and a half hours.”