It was only now, with Holden—still in just his swim trunks—cuffed to a metal chair in interrogation room #2, that they had a chance to talk. Susannah was getting checked out by a medic in the station infirmary, and Grover was waiting outside the observation room, so they were finally alone.

  “You want to tell me what was going on in that alley?” Ryan asked.

  Knowing how much he’d worry, Jessie was tempted to say it was nothing, but knew he wouldn’t buy it. Even if he did, Grover would surely reveal the truth, so she decided to come clean—mostly.

  "I had another headache," she admitted. "It came out of nowhere and I wasn't prepared for it. It literally brought me to my knees. But it only lasted a few seconds, and I'm feeling better now."

  He studied her, seemingly unsure how to respond. When he finally replied, his voice was quiet.

  “I’m not going to say you shouldn’t have been there. I’m not even going to say you should never have left the station at all. But I think we can both agree that headaches that have you falling to your knees are not good. I’m concerned that this might be getting worse. We need to get you back in to see Dr. Varma ASAP.”

  “I agree,” Jessie told him. “Once we nail this killer, we can make that next on our list. If Holden is our guy, we can go today. Sound good?”

  “I’m not sure I’m comfortable waiting,” Ryan countered. “If Holden’s isn’t the person committing these murders, we don’t know how long it will take to catch the killer. I want to get you looked at sooner rather than later.”

  “How about we make a deal?” Jessie offered. “If we haven’t solved this thing by the end of the day, I’ll go in to get checked out first thing tomorrow morning, regardless of the status of the case. We can call ahead to ensure proper security for me. Fair?”

  The look on Ryan’s face suggested he didn’t think that her health choices should be contingent on dealmaking, but he held his tongue on that point.

  “I’ll agree to that, unless you have another headache like the one earlier,” he said. “No case is worth putting you at risk. Please promise me that you won’t hide what’s going on with you.”

  “Who, me?” she said, hoping to lighten the mood. “I would never!”

  “I mean it, Jessie,” he replied. “Promise.”

  She sighed. It was clear that he wouldn’t move on until she consented. The truth was that if he knew the extent of the pain and disorientation she felt earlier, he wouldn’t be agreeing to any deals at all. This was the best she would get.

  “I promise,” she said. “Now can we please go in and talk to Holden to find out if we’ve actually caught the right person?”

  “What do you mean, ‘we’?”

  Jessie tried not to take offense.

  “Susannah’s getting checked out by medical personnel,” she replied. “Why go in there alone when you have a professional criminal profiler at your disposal?”

  “Who is on medical leave,” he noted.

  “I know, but I’m here and I’m available, unless you think that Susannah is walking through that door any second.”

  “I don’t,” he conceded darkly.

  “What happened with her anyway?” Jessie wanted to know.

  “I’m not sure,” he conceded. “We were going down the apartment building stairs after Holden when she pulled up suddenly. And that wasn’t the first time I noticed her favoring her left side. She said it was a cramp, but I think she might have been hurt worse in that bomb explosion than we initially thought.”

  “Then we should definitely check in on her after this,” Jessie said. “But as long as we're waiting to hear an update, let's go at Holden. That's the reason I went to his apartment in the first place, anyway, to be there when you guys questioned him. Now I can help more directly."

  “Fine,” Ryan said reluctantly, “but keep your distance.”

  "He's cuffed to a bolted-down table, Ryan."

  “I don’t care,” he insisted. “Don’t get close to him.”

  “Okay,” she agreed.

  They left the observation room and moved one over to interrogation room #2. Ryan opened the door, and Jessie was about to enter when Grover stepped forward.

  “I’m coming too,” he told them, “just in case.”

  No one argued, and they all entered together. Grover moved to the corner and remained standing. Ryan sat down across from Jeremy Holden. Jessie sat beside him but made a show of moving her chair several feet back from the metal table.

  Holden stared back at them haughtily. His expression was in stark contrast to his appearance. He was still wearing just his red swimsuit and flip-flops. His longish black hair was a mess, plastered to his head in sections, while other parts shot out everywhere. He either didn’t know or didn’t care. His blue eyes were cold, and his mouth was tightly pursed.

  “Mr. Holden, I read you your rights back in that alley,” Ryan began, “but I want to remind you that they still apply. Are you sure you don’t want a lawyer in here?”

  “I’ll tell you what I want is a shirt!” he demanded before they even started asking questions. “It’s frickin’ cold in here.”

  “Sure, “Ryan said, “once we get some answers.”

  “To what?” Holden demanded. “I don’t even know why I’m here.”

  “For starters,” Ryan told him, “evading arrest.”

  "I didn't know you were a cop, man," Holden insisted. "I saw some muscle-bound guy and a super-hottie acting suspiciously outside my apartment door. I thought that maybe you worked for my bookie, and you were here to collect my debt, like forcefully."

  “That was your first assumption?” Ryan asked skeptically. “That we were enforcers for a bookmaker, and you had to run?”

  "I don't know, man," Holden told him. "You looked like you were packing and that chick with you didn't look like any cop I ever saw. I thought she was there to get my guard down, and then you'd pounce."

  Jessie noted that, in some respects, he probably wasn't far off.

  “Let’s set that aside for now,” she said. “We want to talk to you about some recent dates you’ve been on, especially using apps like Crispy and BeBold. Tell us about your date with Noemi Benson.”

  “Who?” Holden asked belligerently.

  Jessie had anticipated his response and held out a picture of Benson's profile picture.

  “Oh, yeah,” he said. “I kind of remember her.”

  “How did your date go?” she asked.

  “Uneventful,” he answered with a smirk.

  “What about Rena Hoffman?”

  “That name sounds more familiar,” he said. “You got a picture of her too?”

  Jessie showed it to him.

  “Right,” he said. “I went out with her once. Didn’t amount to anything.”

  “Why didn’t either date work out?” Jessie wanted to know.

  He snorted and offered a nasty sneer.

  “Because both of them were boring,” he replied, “No fun at all.”

  Jessie was about to nail him on that, but Ryan beat her to it.

  “That’s weird,” he said, “because according to the app data, you kept texting them both for a while after those first dates, asking for a second one, so you must have liked them a little bit. How do you explain that contradiction?”

  Holden looked briefly thrown before an idea seemed to pop into his head.

  “What can I tell you, man?” he relied with a shrug. “It’s been a while. Maybe I was drunk texting or something. I can’t remember. What’s this all about anyway?”

  “And neither woman got back to you at all, much less agreed to a second date,” Jessie noted, ignoring his question. “That must have been annoying.”

  “Whatever,” he said dismissively. “It was their loss.”

  “I don’t know,” Jessie continued. “Based on the tenor of your texts, it seemed like you were pretty put out. Looking at what you sent, I see words like ‘bitch’ and ‘prude’ thrown around pretty loosely. It sounds like you were a little upset with them.”

  “Like I said, I must have been drunk,” he claimed. “If I was sober, I would never have wasted my time."

  “You’re in a police station, Mr. Holden,” Jessie reminded him. “That kind of answer isn’t going to fly. Maybe it’s time to start being honest.”

  He stared at her and for a moment she feared that he might actually invoke his right to an attorney. But he didn’t.

  “What can I say—I thought it was pretty rude not to respond at all. So I guess I was a little harsh. Is that a crime?”

  “Why do you think they didn’t respond?” Jessie pressed.

  “Who knows?” he replied. “You should ask them.”

  Jessie could see him getting agitated but couldn’t tell if he was deflecting from what he might have done or just generally uncomfortable with the direction of the questions.

  “Jeremy,” she said, leaning in. “This isn’t helping you.”

  He looked like he was going to protest his innocence again, but then seemed to change his mind.

  “Okay,” he said, “maybe I wasn’t the most gentlemanly on the dates. To be honest, I just wanted to hook up. But like I said in the texts, they were both such prudes. Neither one of them would let me get even a taste. It was a waste of time.”

  “But you texted them after,” Jessie pushed.

  “So what?” he replied. “I was horny. I thought it was worth a shot to try again. But I got nothing in response, so like I said, I got a little…harsh. But is it really that big a deal? I mean, are they coming to you now saying I offended them so much that it’s a crime? Come on lady. It’s been months since I dated that first one and at least a few weeks with the other. I never forced anyone to do anything. This is crap.”

  Jessie looked over at Ryan, who nodded that he was okay with what he knew she wanted to do. She turned back to Holden and locked eyes with him before lowering the boom.

  “You used the word ‘harsh,’” she noted, “which I think is appropriate, considering that both these women were murdered.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  At first, what Jessie said didn’t seem to register with Holden.

  But after a long beat in which his face was completely blank, she saw his expression turn to panic.

  “Wait!” he shouted, his voice rising uncontrollably, “are you accusing me of killing people?”

  “Nobody’s accusing,” Ryan said, “right now we’re just gathering information. Do you have information to share?”

  “I didn’t do anything,” he insisted quickly. “I swear.”

  “I’m not sure we’re willing to just take your word for it,” Jessie replied calmly. “You’re going to need to convince us. Where were you last night?”

  His eyes, which had been bouncing around like pinballs until now, settled. Clearly, he was relieved to have a question he thought he could answer.

  “I was at a film screening,” he replied.

  “Where?” she demanded.

  “Westwood,” he said.

  That didn’t automatically absolve him. Westwood was less than three miles north of the West L.A. location where Benson’s body had been found.

  “Did you have to check in for the screening?” she asked.

  He nodded vociferously.

  “And I sat with some friends too.”

  “What about Monday night?” Ryan wanted to know. “Where were you then?”

  Holden’s brow furrowed, either in concentration or deception.

  “Oh, yeah, I was at my buddy Calvin’s place. We were watching the football game.”

  “Just the two of you?” Jessie asked.

  “No, there was a group of us. Four total.”

  “Which game?” Ryan demanded, turning the screws. “There were two that night.”

  “Philadelphia and Minnesota,” he answered without hesitation.

  “Who won?” Ryan asked, keeping the pressure on.

  “The Eagles did, 24-7. I remember the score because it cost me money. That’s why I thought you were coming to collect, because I lost the thirteen grand on that game, and I still hadn’t paid up two days later.”

  Jessie's heart sank. Holden might be lying, but it didn't seem likely. Not only was he able to answer every question they threw at him, but he'd also locked himself into alibis that required confirmation from multiple people. If he was full of it, they'd know pretty quick. Ryan pushed a piece of paper and a pencil across the table.

  “Give us the names and contact info for everyone who can vouch for your whereabouts,” he said, unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice as he stood up. “We’ll be back in a minute.”

  Jessie got up to and followed Ryan outside, with Grover in tow. She felt just like her husband looked. They would do their due diligence and make the calls, but she already knew what the results would be: another dead end.

  “I’ll wait for his list and follow up on the phone numbers he gives us,” Ryan said once they were in the hall. “Do you want to see how Susannah is doing?”

  “Sure,” she replied dejectedly.

  Anything was better than stewing over what was clearly a failure. Besides, she really did want to see how her friend was doing. She started down the hall when he called after her.

  “Hey, I know this wasn’t the outcome we wanted, but remember your commitment to me. No matter how this plays out today, you have an appointment tomorrow, right?”

  “Right,” she said, feeling defeated. “I’ll call as soon as I get a chance.”

  She turned and headed back down the hall. Grover fell into step beside her.

  “What appointment?” he asked, his deferential tone indicating he understood how disappointed she was.

  “To see my neurosurgeon,” she muttered. “I told Ryan about what led to the alley falling incident and he insisted.”

  “Hard to blame him,” Grover said.

  “Yes, it is,” she agreed. “Thanks for not tattling.”

  “Don’t thank me,” he said. “I just never got a chance to talk to him privately. I would have sold you out in a second.”

  “Good to know,” she replied.

  “It’s for your own good.”

  She couldn't argue with him. The headaches were coming with greater frequency and intensity lately, as was the nausea and disorientation. That, on top of the stress of worrying about Hannah's safety, as well as her own, was pushing her close to the edge. She wondered if she should just admit herself into the hospital. Half of HSS was already there, as was Dr. Lemmon. It'd be like a reunion. She chuckled bitterly at the thought.

  They reached the infirmary, and she knocked lightly on the door. A nurse opened it cautiously.

  “I wanted to check in on Detective Valentine,” Jessie said. She could see Susannah lying on an elevated exam table at the back of the room.

  “We’d prefer she not have visitors right now, Ms. Hunt,” the nurse said apologetically. “She needs to take it easy.”

  “Let her in, Lydia,” Susannah called out from behind her. “I promise we’ll keep it brief.”

  “Very brief,” Lydia instructed firmly.

  “I’ll be right outside,” Grover said, taking up a position right outside the door.

  Jessie nodded and walked over to the table.

  “This doesn’t look great,” she said. “You can’t even stand up? What a wuss!”

  “Don’t make me laugh,” Susannah said, fighting off a giggle. “It’s just more comfortable like this than standing or sitting right now, at least until the pain meds really kick in.”

  “What’s the deal?”

  “Not sure yet,” Susannah said. “Personally, I think I might have bruised a rib when that bomb went off. The force kind of slammed me into the fire escape. I guess it took a while for it to really start smarting."

  “Ryan told me you almost collapsed going down the stairs at the apartment,” Jessie said, concerned. “Do you think you should go get an X-ray or something? Maybe you broke a rib instead of just bruising it.”

  “Nah,” Susannah scoffed. “We’re shorthanded as it. Besides, what are they going to do, even if I did? There’s no treatment for that. Anyway, I think it’s just a bruise. Like I said, once the meds kick in, I’ll be good to go. Just give me a little while.”

  “Okay,” Jessie said, though she got the distinct impression that the detective was downplaying her situation. Susannah’s attitude felt uncomfortably familiar. It was almost like she was staring into a mirror of denial. “I’m going to Research to see if they’ve uncovered anything. I’ll keep you updated.”

  “You better!” Susannah ordered before wincing. It seemed like just the effort to speak authoritatively was causing discomfort.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Jessie replied, pretending not to notice. But as she left the infirmary, it occurred to her that if Susannah was out of commission, the only working detective left in HSS was Ryan. She didn’t like that one bit.

  Ryan was a great detective and up for almost any physical challenge. But going out alone in search of a serial killer? The idea made her spine tingle with dread.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Things in Research were frustrating.

  First, Jessie got the bad news that Rena Hoffman's phone had been damaged. It still worked, but accessing its data was taking longer than expected. She could tell from Jamil's demeanor that he was even more irritated than she was and decided not to push. He'd figure it out. He always did.

  In the meantime, she decided to return her focus to the dating apps. Kat and Beth had continued to review them during her absence. After all, just because Kat had found one suspect—Jeremy Holden—didn’t preclude there being others. Now Jessie was counting on one of them panning out.

  Unfortunately, so far, no one else seemed to be a match. Jessie could feel the frustration emanating from both women and decided to leave them be as well. Gila Jabarin, apparently uninterested in helping out on this particular assignment, sat in the corner, scrolling through her phone.

  Jessie sat down at a computer and opened the files for the two dating apps, hoping that her fresh eyes might uncover something the others had missed. The first thing she noted was that, technically, there were three apps, not two.