The Perfect Affair

Before she could reply, Captain Decker poked his head out of his office and called them in.

“Hernandez, Hunt, I need to have a little chat, please.”

Jessie glanced at Ryan, who had a look of resignation on his face.

“What?” she asked.

“That’s his ‘ream you out’ voice,” he said as he got up. “I can only imagine what the Valley Bureau people told him.”

“Well, I’ve got a little reaming out of my own to do,” Jessie said, her spine stiffening as she led the way to Decker’s office.

“Great,” she heard Ryan mutter quietly behind her. She pretended not to hear him.

They entered the office to find Captain Roy Decker standing behind his desk. He looked a decade older than his sixty years, skinny, mostly bald, and sunken-faced, with more wrinkles than she could count. He was staring at his computer screen with a frown. His beady eyes were intensely focused and his long, sharp nose seemed to point accusatorily in their direction.

“I understand you had a little excitement last night,” he said without looking up.

“We stumbled onto a case with some unusual features,” Ryan volunteered vaguely.

“Well, it seems that your involvement has piqued the interest of some of our friends in Valley Bureau,” he replied, his voice betraying nothing.

Jessie wanted desperately to respond. But from experience, she’d found it best to let Ryan feel things out first. His many years of exemplary service had garnered him some goodwill that Jessie hadn’t earned yet.

“Sir,” Ryan began carefully, “I think their pique might have something to do with how they were caught flat-footed on this. They were violating protocols left and right. Hell, the body was being removed before the assigned detective had even arrived. It wasn’t their finest moment.”

“They neglected to include that in the preliminary report,” Decker acknowledged. “May I ask what you were doing there in the first place? It’s not exactly your jurisdiction.”

“Was in the area after dinner and heard word of a victim who had been stabbed multiple times. I’m like a moth to a flame when it comes to that sort of thing and thought Hunt’s insight could be valuable so I asked her to help out.”

Decker glanced up at him. Jessie could tell he wasn’t fooled by Ryan’s incomplete, pronoun-averse answer. She thought this might be the moment when he pressed them on the nature of their relationship, which they’d been keeping under wraps. But he seemed to think better of it.

“Well, according to the report, it looks pretty open and shut; robbery gone wrong. So I guess we can move on without any unneeded friction between precincts.”

“Actually, Captain,” Jessie said, speaking for the first time, “I’m not sure it’s as simple as that.”

“Of course you’re not,” Decker said, seeming to sink even further into himself. “Go ahead, Hunt. Ruin my day.”

“I don’t mean to do that, sir,” she said, trying to harness all the diplomacy she could muster. “But the scene doesn’t support the theory that this is just a simple robbery gone wrong. Hardly anything was stolen. The SIM card in the phone, which was taken, was completely destroyed. The killer went into the bedroom with the murder weapon, seemingly with intent. The victim was stabbed nine times, hardly the MO of your typical apartment thief. And even after the girl was dead, the place was left largely untouched. I’m not saying definitively that it wasn’t a robbery. But open and shut? I don’t think so.”

She wanted to go on; to say that something about the case stunk to high heaven. But deeming that extra claim to be counterproductive, she left it there.

Decker sat down and closed his eyes. When he opened his mouth, it was twisted into a pained grimace.

“What would you have me do with this information, Ms. Hunt?”

“Captain, I think you should allow us to pursue this case. Detective Hernandez’s role as part of HSS allows him to take over any LAPD case the unit deems within its remit. Let us see where this goes. Give us the day. If we can’t find anything worthwhile, we’ll close up shop.”

Decker sat quietly for a moment, weighing her proposition.

“Unfortunately, that’s not possible,” he said, turning to Ryan. “Detective Hernandez, I just got word that your testimony in the Barton murder case has been moved from tomorrow to today. You need to be at the courthouse at ten a.m.”

Jessie and Ryan exchanged deflated looks.

“Captain,” he pleaded, “it’s only eight thirty now. Let me start the process of taking over the case. Maybe we can conduct an interview with the roommate. At least let us get the ball rolling.”

“I can’t do all that. I’m not going to pull the Valley guys off the case. The politics of that are just too ugly. But I can offer a compromise. I’ll let Valley Bureau know that HSS wants to work in concurrence with them, to information share and pool resources. That will allow you access to witnesses and evidence.”

“But we need to access all that now, sir,” Jessie insisted, “while the trail is hot.”

“Hunt, will you please let me finish before you dictate procedure to me?”

“Sorry, Captain,” Jessie said, silently berating herself for alienating the man who could most help her out now.

“Hernandez, you put in the paperwork and note Hunt as the profiler on the case, which will permit witness interviews at the very least,” he said, then turned to Jessie. “Hunt, that should allow you to re-interview the roommate. Once the door is cracked open, Valley won’t be able to easily close it.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jessie said.

“Just don’t go overboard, Hunt,” Decker implored. “I know that’s not easy for you. But stick to interviews, work that can be justified under the ‘profiler’ job description. You’ll be solo for a while until Hernandez gets out of court. Without a cop to back you up, you need to tread more lightly. Are you familiar with that concept, Hunt?”

“Vaguely, sir,” Jessie said, smiling. “Thank you.”

“Please don’t make me regret this,” he said, almost begging.

Jessie answered as honestly as she could.

“I’ll do my best.”

CHAPTER NINE

Jessie was waiting in her hospital room when Lizzie woke up.

The girl looked around, clearly disoriented. Jessie got up and held a cup with a straw to her lips. She sucked down the water voraciously.

“Can you talk?” Jessie asked when Lizzie was through gulping.

“Where am I?” the girl asked hoarsely. “Who are you?”

“You’re in Valley Presbyterian Hospital,” Jessie told her patiently. “I’m Jessie Hunt with the Los Angeles Police Department. We met last night, though you were pretty drugged up at the time. Do you remember last night?”

At first Lizzie just looked confused. But then the memories seemed to flood back in. In an instant she grimaced and closed her eyes tight.

“I remember enough,” she said quietly.

“Do you remember talking to me?”

“Not really.”

“Okay, then let’s start fresh. I’m sorry, but the questions I have to ask you are going to be difficult. But in order to find out what happened to Michaela…”