“No, that’s not the right word; more like detached, as if she wouldn’t allow herself to have any emotions. She never cried, even if I yelled at her or did worse, which sometimes happened. She seemed to shut off, not just with me, but with everyone. To this day, I still remember a comment from one of her teachers on her report card. She got straight A’s but the teacher said she was ‘disconnected from the school community and seemed unable to form meaningful bonds.’ They sent her to the school counselor but it didn’t seem to do much good. I can’t help but think I did that to her.”
He looked up at Jessie as if seeking absolution. But she had none to offer. He was almost certainly right. It was quite likely that he had done this to her. Maybe Michaela had anti-social tendencies already, but having an abusive, alcoholic, absentee father would have greatly exacerbated it.
She got the sense that he didn’t know just how far his daughter had gone to achieve any semblance of feeling in her life. He seemed not to know that his dead daughter was a porn actress. And though he probably didn’t deserve to be protected from knowing the full extent of the harm he’d caused, Jessie decided not to tell. He was pathetic enough as it was, lying limp and forlorn on the apartment carpet. She didn’t need to kick him while he was down.
“You should go, Mr. Penn,” she finally said. “You could get in trouble for being here and you don’t need any more trouble.”
“Okay,” he said, getting slowly to his feet. “Why are you here?”
Jessie felt a brief moment of anxiety as she realized it wouldn’t do for him to go around talking about her presence here. But it faded quickly.
“I’m investigating Michaela’s murder,” she said, not mentioning that she was ignoring the niceties of proper police procedure. “I’m looking for evidence to catch her killer.”
Penn seemed satisfied with that answer and trudged out toward the front door without further prodding. Jessie followed him, not holstering her weapon but now keeping it at her side. She locked the door from the inside and they stepped outside.
“How did you get here?” she asked.
“My truck is impounded so I took a cab from the motel.”
Jessie looked at the time. It was 2:24 a.m. She sighed heavily.
“Tell me where it is and I’ll give you a ride,” she said.
“You’d do that?” he asked, taken aback.
“I just want to go home and get some sleep,” she told him. “That’s what I recommend you do too.”
He nodded and they made their way to her car. Both were weighed down, he by guilt and grief and she by unresolved questions. Neither spoke again, even when they parted ways.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Hannah had to wake her up.
Through a mix of physical and mental exhaustion, Jessie had slept through both her main and backup alarms. When Hannah shook her gently and noted that it was almost 8 a.m., the time Jessie usually got to work, she nearly pulled a muscle bounding out of bed.
“Whoa,” Hannah said. “Slow down there, slugger. I think you’ve earned the right to go in an hour late. When did you finally crash?”
“I think around three,” Jessie said, not certain herself.
Her eyes darted over to the dresser, where she could see the edge of the manila envelope under the jacket she’d sloppily draped across it. Then she quickly returned her attention to her half-sister, who was already dressed and had her backpack slung over her shoulder.
“You were going to tell me where you were going,” Hannah reminded her. “That is, assuming you won’t have to kill me afterward.”
“Yeah,” Jessie said, motioning for the girl to follow her into the bathroom, where she grabbed a brush and began dragging it through the bird’s nest that was her hair. “I went to Mick’s apartment, looking for a journal or something similar. I didn’t find one but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a good idea. I did find some other potential leads that I missed the first time around. So thanks for the suggestion.”
“Sure,” Hannah said, trying to hide the slight smile forming at the corners of her mouth.
“Give me ten minutes and I’ll be ready to take you to school,” Jessie promised before swigging some mouthwash and gargling.
“Don’t worry about it,” Hannah told her. “I was going to take a Lyft anyway. Not to be rude, but it looks like you could use a few minutes to regroup a little. That’ll be easier without me up in your business.”
“Are you sure?” Jessie asked after spitting out the mouthwash, wondering who this thoughtful, understanding young woman was but keeping that question to herself.
“No problem. Just keep in touch to let me know how the day shakes out for you.”
Jessie stared at her, unable to hide her amazement.
“Do we have some kind of Freaky Friday situation going on here? I feel like you’ve suddenly become the guardian around here.”
Hannah offered something close to a genuine smile.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” she warned as she walked out of the bedroom. “All I’m saying is that a person who goes to bed at three ought to be able to sleep until at least eight. Hopefully you’ll return the favor.”
“Are you planning to be up until three sometime soon?” Jessie asked.
“Gotta go,” Hannah replied chipperly as she headed toward the front door.
Before Jessie could follow up, the door slammed shut.
*
After a quick shower and text to Ryan saying she’d be in a bit late, Jessie sat down on her bed and studied the manila envelope. She’d wanted to look at it last night but she was so bleary-eyed, she worried that she’d inadvertently miss something important.
She snapped on a pair of gloves and looked inside the envelope again. Then she took out one wad of bills and counted them. There were a hundred of them, most of which were twenties, though there were a few fifties and hundreds sprinkled in. They totaled $3,250.
She dumped out all the other bundles out on the bed and realized she’d vastly underestimated how many there were last night. She’d thought there were a dozen but all told, there were twenty-eight. Assuming all of them were in the $3,000 range, that meant that Michaela had collected in the neighborhood of $85,000.
That was quite a chunk of change to have amassed in less than six months, especially considering that the films she’d done were mostly low budget, bottom of the barrel stuff. More suspicious, despite the sketchy nature of the business Michaela was in, even Lenny Lander wouldn’t pay his staff, porn actors or not, in cash. He might want to, but after meeting his mother, Jessie was sure payment was made via check or direct deposit.
In that case, why did Michaela have nearly $100,000 in cash hidden in an envelope behind a painting in her apartment? Even in her shady world, something about the decision felt off. It didn’t take a massive deductive leap to guess the reason.
Clearly the girl didn’t want to answer questions about where the money came from. And while the bank might not ask, it could still conceivably come to the attention of some other law enforcement or regulatory agency.
Jessie remembered what Hannah had said last night about girls from her school doing private dates in addition to the actual films. The likelihood that Michaela had done the same thing seemed high. Also plausible: the chance that a date had gone badly, ending in her death.