Dr. Lemmon took a deep breath as she considered the proposal.
Im not sure playing mind games with a notorious serial killer is the best next step for your emotional well-being, Jessie.
You know what would be great for my emotional well-being, Doctor? Jessie said, feeling her frustration rise despite her best efforts. Not fearing that my psycho dad is going to jump out from around a corner and get all stabby on me.
Jessie, if just talking to me about this gets you so riled up, whats going to happen when Crutchfield starts pushing your buttons?
Its not the same. I dont have to censor myself around you. With him Im a different person. Im professional, Jessie said, making sure her tone was more measured now. Im tired of being a victim and this is something tangible I can do to change the dynamic. Will you just consider it? I know that your recommendation is pretty much a golden ticket in this town.
Dr. Lemmon stared at her for a few seconds from behind her thick glasses, her eyes boring into her.
Ill see what I can do, she finally said. Speaking of golden tickets, have you formally accepted the FBIs National Academy invitation yet?
Not yet. Im still weighing my options.
I think you could learn a lot there, Jessie. And it wouldnt hurt to have it on your résumé when youre trying to get work out here. I worry that passing on it might be a form of self-sabotage.
Its not that, Jessie assured her. I know its a great opportunity. Im just not sure this is the ideal time for me to up and move across the country for almost three months. My whole world is in flux right now.
She tried to keep the agitation out of her voice but could hear it creeping in. Clearly Dr. Lemmon did too because she shifted gears.
Okay. Now that weve gotten a big picture view of how things are going, Id like to dig a little deeper on a few subjects. If I recall, your adoptive father came out here recently to help get you squared away. I want to get into how that went momentarily. But first, lets discuss how youre recovering physically. I understand you just had your last physical therapy session. How was that?
The next forty-five minutes made Jessie feel like a tree having its bark peeled back. When it was over, she was happy to leave, even if it meant her next stop was getting checked to reconfirm she could have kids in the future. After nearly an hour of Dr. Lemmon poking and prodding her psyche, she figured getting her body poked and prodded would be a breeze. She was wrong.
*It wasnt so much the poking that set her off. It was the aftermath. The appointment itself was pretty uneventful. Jessies doctor confirmed that she hadnt suffered any permanent damage and assured her that she should be able to conceive in the future. She also gave the all-clear to resume sexual activity, a notion that had genuinely not crossed Jessies mind since Kyle attacked her. The doctor said that barring something unexpected, she should return for a follow-up in six months.
It was only when she was in the elevator on the way down to the parking garage that she lost it. She wasnt completely sure why but she felt like she was falling into a dark hole in the ground. She ran to the car and sat in the drivers seat, letting the heaving sobs wrack her body.
And then, in the middle of the tears, she got it. Something about the finality of the appointment had hit her hard. She didnt have to come back for six months. It would be a normal visit. The pregnancy stage of her life was, for the foreseeable future, over.
She could almost feel the emotional door slam shut and it was jarring. On top of her marriage ending in the most shocking way possible and learning that the murderous father she thought shed put in the past was back in her present, the realization that shed had a living being inside her and now she didnt was too much to bear.
She peeled out of the parking garage, her vision blurred by tear-stained eyes. She didnt care. She found herself pressing down hard on the accelerator as she roared south on Robertson. It was early afternoon and there wasnt much traffic. Still, she weaved wildly in and out of lanes.
Ahead of her, at a stoplight, she saw a large moving truck. She hit the gas hard and felt her neck snap back as she accelerated. The speed limit was thirty-five, but she was at forty-five, fifty-five, passing sixty. She was sure that if she hit that truck hard enough, all her pain would vanish in an instant.
She glanced to her left and as she whizzed by, she saw a mother walking along the sidewalk with her toddler son. The thought of that little boy being witness to a mass of crumpled metal, blistering fire, and charred remains snapped her out of it.
Jessie hit the brakes hard, squealing to a stop only feet from the back of the truck. She pulled into the gas station parking lot to her right, parked, and turned off the car. She was breathing heavily and adrenaline coursed through her body, making her fingers and toes tingle to the point of discomfort.
After about five minutes sitting there motionless with her eyes closed, her chest stopped heaving and her breathing returned to normal. She heard a buzzing and opened her eyes. It was her phone. The caller ID said it was Detective Ryan Hernandez of the LAPD. Hed spoken to her criminology class last semester, where shed impressed him with how shed solved a sample case he presented to the class. Hed also visited her in the hospital after Kyle tried to kill her.
Hello, hello, Jessie said out loud to herself, making sure her voice sounded normal. Close enough. She answered the call.
This is Jessie.
Hi, Ms. Hunt. This is Detective Ryan Hernandez calling. Do you remember me?
Of course, she said, pleased that she sounded like her usual self. Whats up?
I know you graduated recently, he said, his voice sounding more hesitant than she remembered. Have you secured a position yet?
Not yet, she answered. Im weighing my options right now.
In that case, Id like to talk to you about a job.
CHAPTER FOUR
An hour later, Jessie was sitting in the reception area of the Central Community Police Station of the Los Angeles Police Department, or as it was more commonly called, Downtown Division, where she was waiting for Detective Hernandez to come out to meet her. She expressly refused to think about what happened with the near crash. It was too much to process at the moment. Instead, she focused on what was about to happen.
Hernandez had been cagey on the call, telling her he couldnt go into detailjust that a junior position was opening up and hed thought of her. He asked her to come in to discuss it in person as he wanted to gauge her interest before mentioning her to the higher-ups.
While Jessie waited, she tried to recall what she knew about Hernandez. She had met him earlier that fall when hed visited her masters program forensic psychology class to discuss the practical applications of profiling. It turned out that when he was a beat cop, hed been instrumental in catching Bolton Crutchfield.
In the class, hed presented an elaborate murder case to the students and asked if anyone could determine the perpetrator and the motive. Only Jessie had figured it out. In fact, Hernandez had said she was only the second student ever to solve the case.
The next time she saw him was in the hospital when she was recovering from Kyles attack. She was still a bit drugged up at the time, so her memory was a little hazy.
He had only been there in the first place because shed called him, suspicious about Kyles background before shed met him at age eighteen, hoping to get any leads he could offer. Shed left a voicemail with the detective and when he couldnt reach her after multiple calls backprimarily because her husband had tied her up in their househed tracked her cell and found she was in the hospital.
The next time she saw him was in the hospital when she was recovering from Kyles attack. She was still a bit drugged up at the time, so her memory was a little hazy.
He had only been there in the first place because shed called him, suspicious about Kyles background before shed met him at age eighteen, hoping to get any leads he could offer. Shed left a voicemail with the detective and when he couldnt reach her after multiple calls backprimarily because her husband had tied her up in their househed tracked her cell and found she was in the hospital.
When he visited, hed been helpful, walking her through the state of the pending case against Kyle. But hed also quite clearly been suspicious (with good reason) that Jessie hadnt done all she could to come clean after Kyle killed Natalia Urgova.
It was true. After Kyle had persuaded Jessie that she had killed Natalia herself in a drunken rage that she couldnt remember, hed offered to cover up the crime by dumping the womans body at sea. Despite her misgivings at the time, Jessie hadnt been forceful about going to the police to confess. It was something she regretted to this day.
Hernandez had sussed that out but as far as she knew, never said anything about it to anyone after that. Some small part of her feared that was the real reason hed called her here today and that the job was just a pretense to get her in the station. She figured that if he took her to an interrogation room, shed know which way things were headed.
After a few minutes, he came out to greet her. He was much as she remembered him, about thirty, well-built but not overly imposing. At about six feet tall and a little under 200 pounds, he was clearly in good shape. It was only as he got closer that she remembered how ripped he was.
He had short black hair, brown eyes, and a wide, warm smile that probably even made suspects feel at ease. She wondered if he cultivated it for that very reason. She saw the wedding band on his left hand and remembered that he was married but had no kids.
Thanks for coming in, Ms. Hunt, he said, extending his hand.
Please call me Jessie, she said.
Okay, Jessie. Lets go to my desk and Ill fill you in on what I had in mind.
Jessie felt a stronger than expected surge of relief when he didnt suggest the interrogation room but managed to avoid making it obvious. As she followed him back to the bullpen, he talked softly.
Ive been keeping up with your case, he admitted. Or more accurately, your husbands case.
Soon to be ex, she noted.
Right. I heard that too. No plans to stick it out with the guy who tried to frame you for murder and then kill you, huh? No loyalty these days.
He grinned to let her know he was kidding. Jessie couldnt help but be impressed by a guy willing to make a crack about a murder to the person who was almost murdered.
The guilt is overwhelming, she said, playing along.
Ill bet. Ive got to say, its not looking good for your soon-to-be former hubby. Even if prosecutors dont seek the death penalty, I doubt hes ever getting out.
From your lips Jessie muttered, not needing to finish the sentence.
Lets move to a happier subject, shall we? Hernandez suggested. As you may or may not recall from my visit to your classroom, I work for a special unit in Robbery-Homicide. Its called Homicide Special Section, or HSS for short. We specialize in high-profile casesthe kinds that generate lots of media interest or public scrutiny. That might include arsons, murders with multiple victims, murders of notable individuals, and of course, serial killers.
Like Bolton Crutchfield, the guy you helped capture.
Exactly, he said. Our unit also employs profilers. Theyre not exclusive to us. The whole department has access to them but we have priority. You may have heard of our senior profiler, Garland Moses.
Jessie nodded. Moses was a legend in the profiling community. A former FBI agent, hed relocated to the West Coast to retire in the late 1990s after spending decades bouncing around the country hunting serial killers. But the LAPD had made him an offer and he agreed to work as a consultant. He was paid by the department but wasnt an official employee, so he could come and go as he chose.
He was over seventy years old now but still showed up to work just about every day. And at least three or four times a year, Jessie read a story of him cracking a case no one else could nail down. He supposedly had an office on the second floor of this building in what was said to be a converted broom closet.
Am I going to meet him? Jessie asked, trying to keep her enthusiasm in check.
Not today, Hernandez said. Maybe if you take the job and have settled in for a while, Ill introduce you. Hes a little on the crusty side.
Jessie knew Hernandez was being diplomatic. Garland Moses had a reputation for being a taciturn, short-tempered asshole. If he wasnt great at catching murderers, hed probably be unemployable.
So Moses is kind of the departments profiler emeritus, Hernandez continued. He only shows his face for really big cases. The department has a number of other staff and freelance profilers it uses for less celebrated cases. Unfortunately, our junior profiler, Josh Caster, tendered his resignation yesterday.
Why?
Officially? Hernandez said. He wanted to relocate to a more family-friendly area. He has a wife and two kids he never got to see. So he accepted a position up in Santa Barbara.
And unofficially?
He couldnt hack it anymore. He worked robbery-homicide a half dozen years, went to the FBIs training program, came back all gung ho and really pushed hard as a profiler for two years after that. Then he just hit a wall.
What do you mean? Jessie asked.
This is an ugly business, Jessie. I feel like I dont need to tell you that, with what happened with your husband. But its one thing to have a brush with violence or death. Its another to face it every day, to see the foul things human beings can do to each other. Its hard to keep your humanity under the onslaught of that stuff. It grinds you down. If you dont have somewhere to put it at the end of the day, it can really mess you up. Thats something to think about as you consider my proposal.
Jessie decided now wasnt the time to tell Detective Hernandez that her experience with Kyle wasnt the first time shed seen death close up. She wasnt sure if watching her father murder multiple people as a child, including her own mother, might hurt her job prospects.
What exactly is your proposal? she asked, steering clear of the topic entirely.
They had reached Hernandezs desk. He motioned for her to sit down across from him as he continued.
Replacing Caster, at least on an interim basis. The department isnt ready to hire a new full-time profiler just yet. They put a lot of resources into Caster and they feel burned. They want to do a big candidate search before hiring his permanent replacement. In the meantime, theyre looking for someone junior, who wont mind not being a full-time hire and wont mind being underpaid.
Thats sure to reel in top applicants, Jessie said.
Agreed. Thats my fearthat in the interest of keeping costs low, theyll go with someone who doesnt have the chops. Me? Id rather try someone who might be green but has talent rather than a hack who cant profile worth a damn.
You think I have talent? Jessie asked, hoping she didnt sound like she was fishing for a compliment.