The Perfect House

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Oh, I forgot to mention—we’re getting a few new residents at mid-week. We’ll be full up in all ten cells. So we’re checking the surveillance equipment in the empty cells to make sure everything’s working right. We’ve also increased the security staff on each shift from four officers to six during the day, not including me, and from three to four at night.”

“That’s sounds…risky,” Jessie said diplomatically.

“I fought it,” Kat admitted. “But the county had a need and we had available cells. It was a losing battle.”

Jessie nodded as she looked around. The fundamentals of the place seemed the same. The unit was designed like a wheel with a command center in the middle and spokes extending out in every direction, leading to inmate cells. There were currently six officers in the now-cramped space of the command center, which looked like an extremely busy hospital nurses’ station.

A few of the faces were new to her but most were familiar, including Ernie Cortez. Ernie was a massive specimen of a man, about six foot six and 250 well-muscled pounds. He was in his thirties and just starting to show bits of gray in his close-cropped black hair. He gave a big grin when he saw Jessie.

“Vogue chick,” he called out, using the affectionate nickname he’d given her on their first meeting when she’d shown up and he tried to hit on her, suggesting she should be a model. She’d shut him down pretty fast but he didn’t seem to hold a grudge.

“How’s it going, Ernie?” she asked, smiling back.

“You know; same old. Making sure pedophiles, rapists, and murderers mind their P’s and Q’s. You?”

“Mostly the same,” she said, deciding not to get into the particulars of her activities the last few months with so many unfamiliar faces around.

“So now that you’ve had a few months to get over your divorce, you want to spend a little quality time with the Ernster? I’m planning to go to Tijuana this weekend.”

“The Ernster?” Jessie repeated, unable to stop herself from giggling.

“What?” he said, faux-defensively. “It’s a nickname.”

“I’m sorry, Ernster, but I’m pretty sure I’m going to have plans this weekend. But you have fun at the jai alai track. Buy some Chiclets for me, okay?”

“Ouch,” he replied, grabbing at his chest as if she’d shot an arrow in his heart. “You know, big boys have feelings too. We’re also, you know…big boys.”

“All right, Cortez,” Kat interjected, “enough of that. You just made me throw up a little in my mouth. And Jessie has business to attend to.”

“Hurtful,” Ernie muttered under his breath as he returned his attention to the monitor in front of him, Despite his words, his tone suggested he wasn’t all that broken up. Kat motioned for Jessie to follow her to the spoke with Crutchfield’s cell.

“You’ll want this,” she said, holding up the small key fob with the red button in the middle. It was the “in case of emergency, break glass” device. Jessie considered it a kind of digital security blanket.

If Crutchfield was messing with her head and she wanted to leave the room without letting him know the impact he was having, she was to push the button hidden in her hand. That would alert Kat, who could remove her from the room for some official, made-up reason. Jessie was pretty sure Crutchfield was aware of the device but she was glad to have it nonetheless.

She grabbed the key fob, nodded to Kat that she was ready to enter, and took a deep breath. Kat opened the door and Jessie stepped inside.

Apparently Crutchfield had anticipated her arrival. He was standing up, only inches from the glass wall dividing the room in half, smiling broadly at her.

CHAPTER SIX

It took Jessie a second to rip her eyes away from his crooked teeth and evaluate the situation.

On the surface, he didn’t look that different than she remembered. He still had the blond hair, shorn close to his head. He still wore the same mandatory aqua-blue scrubs. He still had the slightly pudgier face than one would expect of a man who was about five foot eight and 150 pounds. It made him look closer to twenty-five than the thirty-five years old he was.

And he still had the probing, almost stalking brown eyes. They were the only hint that the man across from her had killed at nineteen least people and perhaps twice that many.

The cell hadn’t changed either. It was small, with a narrow sheetless bed bolted to the far wall. A small desk with an attached chair sat in the back right corner beside a small metal wash basin. Behind that was a toilet, set off in the back, with a sliding plastic door for a modicum of privacy.

“Miss Jessie,” he purred softly. “What an unexpected surprise running into you here.”

“And yet, you’re standing there as if you expected my imminent arrival,” Jessie countered, not wanting to give Crutchfield even a moment’s advantage. She walked over and sat down in the chair behind a small desk on the other side of the glass. Kat took up her usual position, standing alertly in the corner of the room.

“I sensed a change in the energy of this facility,” he replied, his Louisiana accent as pronounced as ever. “The air seemed sweeter and I thought I could hear a bird chirping outside.”

“You’re not usually this full of flattery,” Jessie noted. “Care to share what has you in such a complimentary mood?”

“Nothing in particular, Miss Jessie. Can’t a man just appreciate the small joy that comes from having an unexpected visitor?”

Something in the way he said that last line made Jessie’s scalp tingle, as if there was more to the comment. She sat quietly for a moment, allowing her mind to work, unconcerned about any time constraints. She knew Kat would let her handle the interview however she chose.

Turning over Crutchfield’s words in her head, she realized they might have more than one meaning.

“When you talk about unexpected visitors, are you referring to me, Mr. Crutchfield?”

He stared at her for several seconds without speaking. Finally, slowly, the wide, forced smile on his face twisted into a more malevolent—and more believable—smirk.

“We haven’t established the ground rules for this visit,” he said, suddenly turning his back on her.

“I think the days of ground rules have long since passed, don’t you, Mr. Crutchfield?” she asked. “We’ve known each other long enough that we can just talk, can’t we?”

He walked back to the bed attached to the back wall of the cell and sat down, his expression slightly hidden in shadow now.

“But how can I be certain that you’ll be as forthcoming as you’d like me to be with you?” he asked.

“After ordering one of your flunkies to break into my friend’s apartment and scaring her to the point that she still can’t sleep, I’m not sure you’ve fully earned my trust or my willingness to be accommodating.”

“You bring up that incident,” he said, “but you neglect to mention the multiple times I’ve assisted you in cases both professional and personal. For every so-called indiscretion on my part, I’ve compensated with information that has proved invaluable to you. All I’m asking for are assurances that this won’t be a one-way street.”

Jessie looked at him hard, trying to determine how accommodating she could be while still keeping a professional distance.

“What is it exactly that you’re looking for?”

“Right now? Just your time, Miss Jessie. I’d prefer you not be such a stranger. It’s been seventy-six days since you last graced me with your presence. A less confident man than myself might take offense at the long absence.”

“Okay,” Jessie said. “I promise to visit you on a more regular basis. In fact, I’ll make sure to stop by at least once more this week. How does that sound?”

“It’s a start,” he replied noncommittally.

“Great. Then let’s get back to my question. You said before that you appreciated the joy that comes from having an unexpected visitor. Were you referring to me?”

“Miss Jessie, while it is always a delight to revel in your company, I must confess that my comment was indeed in reference to another visitor.”

Jessie could sense Kat stiffen in the corner behind her.

“And who are you referring to?” she asked, keeping her voice level.