CHAPTER TWO

  When Jessie got home, dinner was waiting on the table.

  “Are you making up for some misdeed?” she asked Ryan, who was leaning against the kitchen sink in a yellow apron, smiling proudly.

  “I just thought you could use a quality, home-cooked meal,” he replied, “so I called up your little sister, who walked me through it over the phone for the last hour.”

  Jessie walked over and planted a kiss on his lips.

  “I’m sure it will be wonderful,” she said. “Thanks so much. Plus you look extra sexy in that apron.”

  Ryan blushed immediately. Jessie was always amazed that someone as attractive as Detective Ryan Hernandez had the capacity for such self-deprecating aw-shucks shyness.

  After all, she’d seen many a woman swoon at his square jaw and the well-muscled frame that strained at his dress shirts, not to mention his warm brown eyes, shy grin, and adorable dimples. He could be hard as nails when taking down a suspect, but under most circumstances, he was a hot teddy bear.

  “Better eat it while it’s warm,” he said, motioning to the dinner table and pointedly not responding to her “sexy” comment.

  “So what have we got here?” she asked.

  "It's citrus-soaked salmon with rosemary fingerling potatoes and lemon broccolini,” he said with a level of delight that was charming in its sincerity. In the description, she could almost hear Hannah’s voice telling him exactly how to describe the meal.

  “Well, it looks delicious, chef,” she said, sitting down at the table.

  “Any credit goes to the real chef,” he replied. “Any blame goes to me.”

  “Did Hannah make you say that?” Jessie asked playfully.

  “No comment,” he answered.

  “How is she, by the way?” Jessie asked before taking a bite.

  “Amazingly, she said she was a little bored,” Ryan told her, shaking his head in disbelief. “She told me the required freshman classes were too easy. I thought she’d try to get me off the phone quickly, but she seemed excited to focus on the dinner prep. As far as the academics went, I told her to get back to me about whether those classes were still such a breeze after her first set of finals. She also asked how you were doing. I said I’d have you call yourself with an update. How are you doing, by the way?”

  “Pretty good,” Jessie said, not wanting to get into specifics, certainly not about baby talk or her meeting with Captain Parker tomorrow. “Speaking of good, this salmon really is fantastic.

  “Thanks,” he replied, refilling the glass of wine she’d only taken two sips from.

  He was clearly committed to doting on her, maybe too much, but she appreciated the gesture anyway. She also appreciated that he didn’t press her on any of the topics that she knew were probably eating at him, most notably the very ones she wanted to avoid: kids and her potential return to work.

  “So how was your day?” she asked, switching the focus before he changed his mind.

  “Not bad,” he answered, “I finished up the paperwork on the Estrada case that we solved over the weekend. So I’ll be able to start fresh tomorrow if anything worthwhile comes in.”

  ‘And you’re getting along with Parker?” Jessie wondered.

  “For the most part,” he replied. “There was bound to be a period of adjustment considering that I had her job and now I report to her. But that’s what I wanted – not to be responsible for everything—so I can’t really complain now.”

  Jessie sensed that he wasn’t sharing the whole story, but considering that he hadn’t pushed her on the issues that she didn’t want to discuss, she decided to give him a pass for now as well.

  “I do have a little potentially unpleasant news,” he volunteered reluctantly. “I was tempted not to say anything because I doubt it’s going to be an issue, but considering how that has backfired on me in the past, I wanted to be completely forthcoming.”

  “That sounds ominous,” Jessie noted.

  “Sorry, he said, “it’ll probably amount to nothing but here goes. You remember Costabile, of course.”

  How could she forget? Former LAPD police sergeant Hank Costabile was once a celebrated officer with Van Nuys Division. That is, until Jessie and Ryan investigated a case that ultimately implicated his former boss, Commander Mike Butters, in an underage prostitution ring. When Jessie got too close, Costabile, who had been covering for Butters, coordinated a hit on her and almost succeeded before she took him down. He was currently serving twenty years to life for his efforts.

  “Of course,” she agreed. “What’s going on with him?”

  “As you know, his lawyers have been challenging his sentence on a variety of procedural grounds, all of which have been rejected up until now. But today, a new hearing was granted to address some issue related to the admission of certain evidence at his trial. Chief Decker called to give me a heads-up. The news will become public tomorrow."

  “When is the hearing?” Jessie asked, trying to keep calm.

  “Wednesday.”

  “That’s only two days from now,” she replied. “Why so soon?”

  “I don’t know,” Ryan admitted. “Decker thought it was a good sign, that it meant the court wanted to dispose of it quickly. He seemed confident that the whole thing will be dismissed without much fanfare. But I thought you should know. It’s possible some reporter might try to get a comment from you, and I didn’t want you blindsided.”

  “I appreciate it,” Jessie said.

  She left it at that, choosing not to focus too much attention on something that was unlikely to happen. If Decker was right, this would be a formality. And even if something went wrong and Costabile was released, he would never be so foolish as to bother her. The guy might be violent and corrupt, but he wasn’t stupid. Surely, he'd want to start over with a clean slate.

  She assured herself there was nothing to worry about as she took a bite of the potatoes. They weren't as good as Hannah's, but still more than respectable.

  “The potatoes are great too,” she half-fibbed.

  She wasn’t quite sure what was lacking, especially since Hannah had coached Ryan through the process. It could be something as simple as her sister using a little more oil, or letting them sit in the oven for a minute longer to amp up the crispiness. Whatever the reason, they were missing a little something, just like this house—and Jessie—were missing something.

  She missed her little sister.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Thanks again for meeting this early,” Ryan said. “I know it’s out of the ordinary for you.”

  “Not a problem,” Dr. Lemmon told him. “I don’t see anywhere near as many patients as I used to, so my schedule is more malleable these days.”

  Ryan wasn’t sure if that was true or if Lemmon was just being polite. Either way, he’d take it. With his schedule, there was no way he could meet for a session during the workday. That’s why they were sitting across from each other at 7:02 a.m. on a Tuesday morning.

  “I noticed that Amy doesn’t work the early shift,” Ryan said, referring to Lemmon’s assistant, who wasn’t in the outer office.

  “No,” Lemmon said, “I insist that she keep regular hours. And after the attack, we’ve reduced them even more.”

  Lemmon was referencing the incident two months ago, when a disturbed young man hoping to improve his romantic life went on a killing spree of psychiatrists he felt had failed to help him achieve that goal. His last intended victim was Dr. Lemmon. Jessie and Ryan managed to save her, but not before he brutally assaulted her assistant, Amy Bland.

  “Anyway,” Lemmon continued, quickly moving on, “I know that you’re short on time so shall we dive right in?”

  “Sure,” he agreed.

  ***

  They began by discussing well-trod ground, including his ongoing concerns about Jessie’s health and his apprehensions about her returning to work before she was ready. After that, they moved on to something he hadn’t addressed before.

  “I’m a little worried about Hannah,” he mentioned. “We spoke last night before Jessie got home. On the surface, she sounded fine, but I got the sense that she was a little agitated.”

  “About what?” Lemmon asked, leaning forward in concern.

  “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “She didn’t say, and I didn’t want to press her. It could have just been in my head, which is why I didn’t mention it to Jessie. I don’t want to create problems where there might not be any.”

  “Hmm,” Lemmon mused. “It could just be general anxiety over being in such a new environment at college. Even though she’s been at school for a few months, the adjustment period can be longer than we’d expect. If you still have concerns after a few more weeks, it might be worth asking her about it directly.”

  “Okay.”

  “What about you?” she asked. “What else is consuming your attention these days?”

  Ryan considered mentioning that he’d brought up the idea of having a kid with Jessie, but ultimately decided that until his wife gave him a more definitive sense of where she was on the issue, there was no reason to address it here.

  “I’m still adapting to no longer being in charge at work,” he conceded.

  “‘Adapting’ is a pretty broad word,” Lemmon noted. “Can you get a little more specific for me?”

  “It’s just been a period of adjustment,” he explained. “For a stretch there, when I was captain, I was the ultimate authority at Central Station. In general, if I wanted to pursue something, I did. I assigned cases. I made personnel decisions. That’s all gone. I still run Homicide Special Section, but now I report to Gaylene Parker, who used to work under me. Sometimes I feel the friction of that changed dynamic.”

  “Do you resent her?” Lemmon asked.

  “No,” he insisted. “I recommended her for the position to Chief Decker, and I think she’s doing a good job, especially considering that she’s still learning the ropes. But I’d be lying if I said that I never bumped up against how things work now. I got used to having near-total autonomy and that’s gone.”

  Just then, his phone buzzed.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, pulling it out, “but that’s actually Parker now, and if she’s calling me at 7:29 in the morning, something big is happening.”

  “Go ahead,” Lemmon told him.

  He answered the phone.

  “This is Hernandez,” he said.

  “Good morning, Detective Hernandez,” Parker said. “I apologize for not waiting until you got to the station to reach out, but I have something pressing for you.”

  “That’s all right,” Ryan said. “What’s going on?”

  “I just got a call from our friends at the West Los Angeles division,” she told him. “They have a case they think is up HSS’s alley and wanted to bring us in before it hits the news. When can you be here?”

  Ryan did a quick calculation in his head. Lemmon’s office, like Central Station, was in downtown L.A.

  “Give me fifteen minutes,” he said.

  “Okay,” she replied. “See you then.”

  He hung up and looked over at Dr. Lemmon, who was already placing her notepad and pen on the coffee table between them.

  “Rain check?” she offered.

  “I’m sorry, but yes,” he said, “duty calls.”

  “You better get to it then,” she said.

  He didn’t need any further coaxing. By the time she said goodbye, he was already halfway out the door.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Jessie could tell something was up.

  She’d come into LAPD’s Central Station fifteen minutes ahead of her scheduled 8 a.m. meeting with Captain Parker, hoping to catch up with the HSS team, but the bullpen was already abuzz with activity. Parker’s door was closed.

  She wandered over to the HSS section of the bullpen, which was essentially six desks in close proximity, divided from the rest of the bullpen by multiple large but wobbly partitions. Detectives Karen Bray and Sam Goodwin weren’t at their desks, but the other two members of the unit, Detectives Susannah Valentine and Jim Nettles were hunched over their computer monitors.

  Susannah Valentine, a voluptuous twenty-nine-year-old brunette with a sharp mind and a propensity to let her temper get the better of her, was still on desk duty, a result of internal injuries she suffered when a bomb went off at an apartment where she was searching for a killer. So was Nettles, who had been slammed into a wall by the force by the same explosion, causing multiple facial fractures that still had him wearing a protective mask that looked mildly terrifying. The elder statesman of HSS at thirty-nine, the injuries he suffered appeared to have aged the guy by about a decade.

  “How’s it going, guys?” Jessie asked.

  Both of them sat upright and offered warm smiles.

  “I didn’t know you were coming in today,” Susannah said, getting up gingerly to give her a hug.

  “Yeah,” Jessie told her. “I’m meeting with Parker to discuss the timetable for my return to work.”

  “When were you hoping to come back?” Nettles wondered as he, too, embraced her.

  “I feel like I’m ready to go now, but it’s not up to me,” she said. “I guess I’ll know more after we chat. Where are Karen and Sam?”

  “They snagged a case yesterday evening,” Nettles told her. “A big time bank exec was killed in a home invasion and they’re looking into it. They’ve been out all night.”

  “Is that what all the hubbub is about?” Jessie wondered.

  “What hubbub?” Susannah asked, perplexed.

  “You didn’t notice?” Jessie said. “Parker’s door is closed. Her assistant has fielded four brief phone calls in the two minutes that I’ve been here, and she looks seriously frazzled. Something’s up.”

  “To be honest,” Susannah admitted, “I’ve been so focused on reviewing potential suspects in this bank exec murder for Karen and Sam that I’ve barely looked up all morning.”

  “Same,” Nettles said.

  “Let me see if I can find out what’s up,” Jessie said. “I’ll check back in with you guys later.”

  She wandered over to the desk of Parker’s assistant, which was situated just outside the captain’s office. That was a change from when Ryan was in charge. He didn't have a formal assistant, and all his calls went through the officer at the front desk. Jessie waited for brief lull in between calls before speaking.

  “Hi,” she said to the petite, young cop, “I’m Jessie Hunt. I have a meeting with Captain Parker at eight. Should I just wait here?”

  “Hi, Ms. Hunt,” the assistant said politely, despite everything going on. “I’m Officer Shaniqua George, Captain Parker’s administrative aide. It’s nice to meet you. Unfortunately, your meeting with the captain may have to be pushed. Something's come up, and I'm not sure if she'll be able to fit you in on time."

  “What’s going on?” Jessie asked innocently.

  “I’m afraid that I’m not at liberty to say,” she replied courteously, “but I’ll do my best not to leave you in limbo for too long.”

  Officer George’s phone rang.

  “Not a problem,” Jessie said. “I’ll be over with the HSS folks whenever she’s ready.”

  Officer George nodded hurriedly and picked up the phone. Jessie turned to head back to Susannah and Nettles when she saw Ryan walk through the bullpen door. He had the same stressed expression as George, which told Jessie that he was somehow involved in what was happening. She walked straight over to him.

  "Morning, honey," she said, giving him a peck on the cheek before she began the interrogation, “what’s going on?”

  “A new case just came in,” he said. “Parker called me in the middle of my session with Lemmon and asked me to come in right away. I don’t know any details other than that it’s based on the West Side and that they thought it was HSS-worthy.”

  Before Jessie could question him further, Parker’s door opened, and the captain stepped out. Gaylene Parker exuded an authority that was at odds with her physical bearing. Though the forty-four-year-old mother of two wasn’t physically imposing, she had presence.

  Rising up from a street officer to an undercover detective who often posed as a prostitute, she’d eventually been promoted to head of the Vice unit, a job she’d held for four years until getting the nod as captain.

  “Detective Hernandez, may I have a word?” she asked before noting Jessie’s presence. “Oh, Ms. Hunt, we were supposed to talk this morning, weren’t we?”

  “That’s all right,” Jessie told her, accompanying Ryan as he walked over. “It sounds like you’re dealing with a more pressing matter.”

  “Unfortunately, yes,” Parker said, “we’re being asked for help with a case out of West L.A. Division. They specifically requested HSS.”

  “Mind if I sit in on the update?” Jessie asked, surprising herself with her boldness. “Maybe I can offer some insight.”

  Parker looked over at Ryan.

  “Detective, do you have a problem with that?”

  Ryan shrugged with faux ambivalence.

  “Always happy to get the analysis of the department’s foremost criminal profiler,” he replied, though Jessie sensed that he didn’t love her insinuating herself into the situation when she was still on medical leave.

  “Come on in then,” Parker said.

  They followed her into her office. It was the first time Jessie had been there since it changed hands from Ryan. While he was captain, he’d left the place just as it had been when the former captain—now chief of police Roy Decker—had run the station.

  But now it looked dramatically different. Gone were the folding metal chairs for visitors and the ratty, decades-old leather couch that once rested against the back wall for as long as Jessie could recall.

  In their place were two hand-crafted wooden chairs with cushioned seats and a new couch with a welcoming gray and beige pattern. The office had also been repainted. Instead of dull white, smudge-stained walls, the color was a pleasantly inviting cream.