The Perfect Veneer Page 3

  For a second, it looked to Jessie like Ryan might try to squirm out of it.

  Then his whole body slumped, and he leaned back against the glass window of the conference room.

  “That call you got from Zoe wasn’t the first time she made a threat like that,” he muttered under his breath.

  “When was the first time?” Jessie asked, trying to control the volume of her voice.

  “The night we stopped Operation Z, when I arrested her at the movie theater,” he said, his eyes focused on a spot on the carpet between them. “She said something very similar as I was cuffing her.”

  Jessie swallowed hard before responding, again trying to fight off the urge to yell.

  “Why didn’t you think to mention that?”

  “In part, for the same reason I mentioned earlier. I thought she was blowing smoke after getting caught, trying to puff herself up. Also, after everything you’d been through, I didn’t want to worry you. I thought that after the kidnapping, along with the concussion you suffered and Callum’s death, it was one more thing you didn’t need.”

  Jessie felt her whole body tense up. The only thing that prevented her from blowing up completely was the sight of two uniformed officers rounding the corner and walking down the hall past them. Once they had gone by, she leaned in and spoke through gritted teeth.

  “That wasn’t your call, Ryan! A woman who just tried to kill thousands of people tells you her next order of business is to go after you, my sister, and my best friend as a way to make me suffer and you make the command decision not to share that with me?”

  “In the moment, it seemed like the right decision,” he protested. “You were struggling with headaches, dizziness, memory issues. You were consumed by guilt over the circumstances of Andy’s death. I didn’t want to pile on.”

  “But that was almost two months ago,” she countered, not having any of it. “You’ve had ample time to tell me at any point since then. And Zoe’s call to me was two weeks ago. You could have come clean after that, when it was obvious that it wasn’t just a one-time threat. But even then, you said nothing. You kept me in the dark all this time, when the three of you were in danger and I could have been doing something. I cannot fathom why you kept this from me.”

  “That’s why,” he said, struggling to keep his own voice under control, “that mentality. Because ‘we’re in danger’ and you could have been doing something. That’s what I was trying to avoid. And it’s not like I haven’t been looking into it. I have people keeping tabs on Zoe as a precaution. But I’m still not convinced that we are in danger. It could all be talk. And even if we are, what could you be doing, Jessie? You already demanded that Decker put units on us 24/7. Were you going to hire private bodyguards? Were you going to have someone go undercover at the Western Regional Women’s Psychiatric Detention Center to win Zoe’s trust and get her to reveal her secret plan? Were you going to ask your FBI friends to run a forensic analysis on Andy Robinson’s offshore bank accounts? What? Where does it end? You would never get a good night’s sleep again.”

  Jessie listened to his arguments, waiting for the one that might convince her that she was overreacting. But none did. In fact, they only hardened her resolve.

  “Actually,” she replied, “every single one of those sounds like a great plan. I’ve got the financial resources so why not hire a bodyguard for each of you? Maybe you wouldn’t go for it, but I could have hired them for Hannah and Kat and they wouldn’t have even needed to know. You don’t think Jack Dolan at the FBI would have run Andy’s accounts for me after learning that a woman who killed over two dozen people had threatened the lives of my husband, sister, and best friend? He wouldn’t have batted an eye. Getting someone into Western Regional PDC might have been harder but it’s a damn good idea. If I’d have known about Zoe’s intentions two months ago, I could probably have someone in there by now. The point is, underestimating crazy is almost always a mistake. We need to be prepared to defeat it. And that requires sacrifice. So what if that means losing sleep? I’ve dealt with sleepless nights before. I’ve dealt with stalkers and serial killers and sociopathic ex-husbands. I can deal with a lot. What I can’t deal with is the man I married keeping things from me to ‘protect’ me from myself. That’s not love, Ryan. That’s control.”

  He opened his mouth to respond but before he could, a loud knock on the glass made them both jump. It was Beth Ryerson, the unit’s junior researcher. The anxious expression on her face told them that whatever she needed to say couldn’t wait.

  Jessie unlocked the door and opened it.

  “Sorry to bother you,” Beth said quietly, “but Chief Decker is on the phone. He says he’s been trying to reach both of you.”

  “Oh damn,” Ryan said. “I put my cell phone on silent when I came in here.”

  Jessie realized she’d never taken hers off silent after her session with Dr. Lemmon ended.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” Beth said. “But he said to get you and tell you he’s waiting on line one. He also said it’s urgent.”

  ***

  Thirty seconds later, after they both sprinted to the office marked “Captain Hernandez” and locked the door, Jessie gasped for air as Ryan hit the button to put the call on speaker.

  “Hi Chief,” he said, clearly trying to hide his shortness of breath, “sorry to keep you waiting.”

  “I hope I’m not being too much of a pain,” Decker said drily, ‘but I was eager to have a word with you and Ms. Hunt, if you could spare a minute or two.”

  Jessie was glad that she wasn’t the one who had to reply to that. She might be pissed at Ryan, but she didn’t envy his position right now.

  “Of course, Chief,” Ryan said, sitting down at his desk as Jessie took a seat in a chair opposite him. “Jessie is here with me now. What can we do for you?”

  “First of all, briefly before I get to the point of my call, I understand that you requested that the protective detail I approved for yourself, Ms. Dorsey, and Ms. Gentry be suspended as of today. Care to tell me why?”

  “Yes, Chief,” Ryan replied, visibly wincing. “At this point, I just don’t think we can justify the departmental resources when there’s no tangible evidence to suggest that Zoe Bradway’s threats are anything more than bluster.”

  “Do you agree with that assessment, Ms. Hunt?” Decker asked.

  Ryan looked over at Jessie nervously. She was at a genuine loss. Until two minutes ago, she would have reluctantly agreed with his assessment. Now she didn’t know what to think.

  But she didn’t want to throw her own husband under the bus, not under any circumstances, and especially not when she had no credible evidence that he was wrong. Plus, she didn’t want to put Decker in the vulnerable political position of continuing to pay for officers to protect them.

  “I defer to Captain Hernandez’s judgement in this matter, Chief,” she said.

  There was a long silence on the other end of the line, after which Decker finally responded.

  “Very well then, let me get to the point of my call. We received notification on our private alert line about five minutes ago about a death at the Booth Estate in the Hollywood Hills. Are you familiar with Lowden Booth?”

  “The pharma billionaire?” Ryan asked.

  “That’s correct,” Decker replied. “Details are scarce so far but what we know is this: he was found dead by a member of his security team in a panic room on his estate just before 7:30. His wife was apparently also assaulted, though she seems to have survived. It appears that the murder occurred only minutes earlier.”

  “Are units on the scene yet?” Ryan asked.

  “As I said, the call came in through our private alert line via their security team rather than over the traditional 911 channel. Units are en route, as are the crime scene unit and the medical examiner. But this case was called in literally six minutes ago now. My first call was to the captain of Hollywood Community Station to have him send units to the estate and to tell him that Homicide Special Section would be handling the case. My next call was to your cell phone. And then to Ms. Hunt’s. And when those were unsuccessful, finally to the Central Station detective line. So we’re pretty fresh here.”

  “Apologies again for that, Chief,” Ryan said.

  “Regardless,” Decker told him, “this obviously fits HSS’s case profile, but not just because this guy is well-known. Booth isn’t just a celebrity. He’s the CEO of a massive corporation. His murder could move economic markets and have national implications. I’d like Hunt and a detective of your choosing to be there in the next twenty minutes. We have a rare chance to get on this from the get-go. Let’s not waste it.”

  “Yes sir,” Ryan said, before hearing the dial tone that indicated that Decker had hung up on them.

  “Well I guess we know where he stands,” Jessie said, standing up. “Who are you pairing me with?”

  “That may be a problem,” Ryan said, punching at his keyboard as he stared at his computer screen. “As you know, Nettles is in Cabo. Valentine and Goodwin are working a case that came in late last night. And Karen Bray is scheduled to testify in court at ten. I could pull someone from another unit, but I don’t think Decker would approve of that on something this big.”

  “Maybe just pair me with a detective from Hollywood Station until Karen is done in court,” Jessie suggested. “Then she can join me when she’s through.”

  Ryan shook his head.

  “With possible delays, we don’t know how long she’ll be stuck there. It could be all day. I have another idea.”

  Jessie didn’t love his tone.

  “What?”

  “I’m going to work the case with you.”

  Her jaw dropped.

  “Yo
u’re going into the field?” she asked. “What about all your captaining responsibilities?”

  “I can multi-task,” he said. “Besides, I don’t want my investigative skills to atrophy. It’s important that I get out there every once in a while. Plus there’s an added bonus for you.”

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “It will give you an opportunity to ream me out some more. I got the sense that you weren’t done yet.”

  He was right. She wasn’t done.

  “Are you sure you’re not just coming so you can be my secret protector without telling me about it?”

  “I can tell this day is going to be fun,” he said, throwing on his sports jacket. “We should head out.”

  Jessie had a comeback in mind but bit her tongue. After all, if they were going to solve this crime, her focus needed to be on the job at hand. Her personal life would have to wait.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Hannah was in the corner of the downtown coffeehouse, stirring sugar into her coffee, when the cop walked up to her.

  She tried not to act surprised, but it was hard. This was the first time in the two weeks since patrol units had been following her and Kat that an officer had directly approached her other than to drive her home at night. That could only mean something bad had happened.

  Was he coming to tell her that Ryan had been attacked? That Kat, supposedly up in her detective agency office a half block away, had met some awful end? That it had all been a ruse and Jessie was Zoe Bradway’s real target all along?

  “Hey,” the young, brown-haired officer with the nametag reading Cormier said.

  “What happened?” Hannah asked quickly. “Is someone hurt?”

  “Oh God, no,” he said, seeming to realize that his presence had given the wrong impression. “I’m sorry. Everything’s okay. I’m just supposed to let you know that your protective detail has been pulled as of this morning. My partner is informing Ms. Gentry right now. I’m to escort you back up to the office, but after that, I guess you’re on your own again.”

  “Do you know why?” Hannah asked. “Has the threat been neutralized?”

  Officer Cormier shrugged helplessly.

  “They don’t really tell me stuff like that,” he answered sheepishly. “All they said was that we were being pulled, that I should inform you, and escort you to your place of business for the day. That’s the detective agency, so that’s what I’m doing.”

  “Well, okay then,” she replied, realizing she wasn’t going to get any more details from the guy.

  Hannah grabbed her coffee in one hand and Kat’s in the other and headed for the door. She caught her reflection in it just before Officer Cormier opened it for her and was surprised by how much she looked like every other downtown office worker. No one would have guessed that she was just two weeks removed from her high school graduation.

  Part of that was intentional. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was done up in a casually professional bun. She had even invested in a pair of unnecessary glasses, which currently dangled from the top button of her shirt, but could be worn in a pinch to add a little bookishness to her bright green eyes—the same shade as her sister’s—when she needed it.

  She wore tan slacks and a baby blue button-up shirt. Her shoes, black sneakers that looked like loafers at first glance, added an extra inch to her already respectable five-foot-nine height. The entire ensemble gave the impression that she was closer to her mid-twenties than eighteen, which proved extremely useful when working as an intern at a detective agency.

  They made the short trip down the block to the building that housed Kat’s office. Hannah noticed that Officer Cormier, despite almost being off bodyguard duty, was still on high alert. His eyes darted around constantly, and he made sure to keep his body between hers and anyone else walking by.

  She guessed that he was in his mid-twenties and silently wondered where he’d be in his career twenty years from now. Would he be married, with children, and on the verge of retirement, like her friend Detective Callum Reid had been at that age? Would he even make it that long? Would he, like Callum, leave his family to fend for themselves, sacrificing himself to save another family who would carry the guilt of that sacrifice every day afterward?

  “Are you okay?” Cormier asked, snapping her out of her thoughts as they took the elevator to Kat’s office.

  “Yeah, sorry,” Hannah said, as the elevator dinged, and the door opened. “Just daydreaming, I guess.”

  They walked down the hall and stopped at the door with the frosted glass window reading “Gentry Investigations.” Hannah pushed the button on the retro speaker box beside it and a moment later Kat’s voice could be heard.

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s me and your coffee,” Hannah said.

  The door buzzed. Cormier opened it and they stepped in. Hannah was startled to find that they weren’t alone. In one of the two chairs in the tiny waiting room was a petite woman who seemed to be hugging herself for comfort.

  She looked to be in her mid to late-thirties. She was wearing blue jeans and a gray sweatshirt that read simply “Reba,” with a photo of the iconic country singer below the word. Her pale face was thin and angular, and she had an arched nose that had clearly been broken at some point. Her eyes were brown but currently flecked with red, as if she’d been crying recently.

  She had a bruise under her left eye and another one on her right cheekbone. Her black hair was loosely tied back in a bun. It had clearly been done in a rush and multiple strands hung dejectedly around her neck, which was exposed and vulnerable looking. She looked like she’d been borderline pretty about a decade ago, before whatever unpleasantness she’d clearly gotten involved in had started to take its toll on her.

  Kat came out of the back office with Officer Cormier’s partner, an older man with a slight paunch, in tow. She took the coffee from Hannah and smiled at the two cops without acknowledging the presence of the other woman in their midst.

  “Well thanks, gentlemen,” she said. “It’s been interesting. I hope your next assignment offers you a little more action.”

  “You take care,” the older officer said and started for the door.

  Cormier glanced at the apprehensive woman in the chair, clearly wondering if perhaps her situation required their intervention. But then, seeming to sense that if she wanted the help of the police, she would be at a police station and not a detective agency, he gave his patented shrug and followed his partner out the door. Once they were gone, Kat turned to the woman.

  “I’m sorry about that, Violet,” she said. “I know it had to be a bit of a shock to have so many unexpected visitors show up.”

  “A little bit,” the woman said meekly, her voice barely audible.

  “Why don’t you come into the back office, and we’ll continue our conversation there?”

  Hannah stood by silently as Violet got up and followed Kat into the back. The woman even walked timidly, like a dog who’d been beaten by its owner so often that it was afraid to take a wrong step. That impression wasn’t altered by the fact that she topped out at about five-foot-four and 120 pounds.

  She was the antithesis of Katherine Gentry, whose bearing and build exuded sturdiness. About five-foot-seven and 140 pounds, she was powerfully built, with arm muscles that bulged without even flexing. She was attractive, in a casual “I don’t give a crap” way, which was reinforced by her lack of makeup and the loose ponytail in which she tied her dirty blonde hair.

  She and Violet were similar in one way however: their scars, though Hannah doubted that the terrified woman standing before her got hers the way Kat had. Back when she was an Army Ranger in Afghanistan, Kat’s encounter with an IED had left her with multiple facial burn marks and a long scar that ran vertically down her left cheek from just below her eye.

  Once Kat was behind her desk and Violet was seated across from her, Hannah chose to take a spot leaning against a wall. She still wasn’t sure what this was all about and wanted to have a bit of distance to get a read on the situation. Kat looked over at her, then back at Violet.

  “Violet, please allow me to introduce Hannah Dorsey,” she said, using a warmer tone than she ever did when the two of them were alone together. “She’s interning with me over the summer and has been an invaluable resource in a number of cases. I’m sure that she’ll prove very helpful in yours as well.”