“I get that, Garland,” Jessie said, unconvinced. “But like I said, what about six months from now, long after I’ve dropped this case? What if I have an unfortunate fatal accident on the freeway? He could just bide his time and take me out down the line. Am I supposed to live the rest of my life worried that someone in the very department I work for might have me killed when I let my guard down?”
“It’s a risk,” Garland admitted unhelpfully.
“Yeah, well, I’m not sure it’s a risk I’m willing to take. I don’t see why I shouldn’t take the more straightforward route.”
“Which is?”
“Catch the killer. If this guy did it, he goes down. Not even his minions will defend a cop who stabbed an underage girl to death. If he didn’t do it, maybe I can try to find a way to move on—accept that the killer is out of commission and let the lesser crimes go. Then maybe he’ll let it go too.”
Garland’s expression suggested he wasn’t convinced she was capable of that. She wasn’t sure of it either.
“Then I guess you’re right,” he finally said. “The only way to get the upper hand and plot your own course is to catch the murderer, which was your plan all along anyway, correct?”
“Yep,” she agreed. “I’m right back where I started. Solve the case. Then deal with the aftermath.”
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
Jessie tried to be careful.
She had to assume that Commander Butters had people tailing her and any indication that she was still pursuing Michaela’s killer could put her or Hannah at risk. So instead of meeting Ryan directly at their next stop in Culver City, she pulled into the covered parking structure of an outdoor mall down the block, took the elevator down to the first floor, and joined in with the mid-afternoon shopping crowd.
She entered a Japanese grocery store and walked briskly to the back storeroom. One employee gave her a suspicious glance but said nothing. Feigning confidence, she moved to the back exit, which opened onto an alley next to Washington Boulevard. She waited at the edge of the alley for a crowd to assemble at the crosswalk, and then joined them when the pedestrian sign turned green.
After quick stops into both a coffee shop and a bakery, she felt fairly confident that she’d evaded anyone following her. Even if she hadn’t, there was nothing other than the Post-it linking the person she was about to see to the Penn case.
That person was Aaron Rose, a married corporate lawyer who worked out of a gleaming office tower in Culver City. The name matched the initials “A.R” from the Post-it. Of the two remaining photos in Michaela’s envelope, his was the one FBI agent Jack Dolan had been able to identify.
The third man’s photo wasn’t in the system at all, which Dolan found odd, because, at the very least, his driver’s license photo should have popped up. He couldn’t explain it.
While he tried to solve that discrepancy, Jessie told Ryan to take a circuitous route and meet her at Rose’s office to question him. She entered the office tower and headed straight for the service elevator. A security guard chased after her.
“Ma’am, you have to check in at the front desk,” he ordered forcefully.
Jessie didn’t stop until she was at the elevator door.
“I’m here to conduct an LAPD interview,” she said, flashing her badge at him. “I’m trying to stay low profile so as to not cause a scene for your building’s tenants. But if you prefer, I’ll return to the lobby and sign in. Of course, I’ll have to properly identify myself as a criminal profiler and ask for backup in case our person of interest tries to sneak out.”
“Ma’am,” the guard said, suddenly far less forceful, “we have our procedures.”
“I was just trying to avoid a hassle for me and an embarrassment for you. But it’s your call.”
While the guard weighed whether it was worth it to stick to the letter of the law, Jessie waited. She preferred to go in this way and avoid being seen by any potential tail. But her gambit was already a partial success. If one of Butters’s people had managed to stick with her and walked by or even entered the building, she was nowhere to be seen. The longer she could drag this encounter out, the better off she was, even if she did eventually have to sign in back in the lobby.
The guard opened his mouth, apparently having come to a decision. But before he could speak, Ryan rounded the corner.
“What’s going on back here?” he demanded.
“Sir?” the guard said, now thoroughly flummoxed.
“Are you preventing my partner from entering the elevator?”
“Your partner?”
“Detective Hernandez, Homicide Special Section,” Ryan said, holding out his badge uncomfortably close to the guard’s face. “We’re about to conduct an interview and it looks like you’re interfering. Didn’t you fill him in on this already, Hunt?”
“I did,” Jessie said, adopting her best frustrated, impatient tone. “I told him I was trying to do this quietly to avoid a fuss for us or the building. But this gentleman was more interested in getting my John Hancock on his sign-in sheet. I told him I’d have to get way more official then—backup, squad car, sirens—the whole thing. But he doesn’t seem to mind. So I guess we’re lobby-bound.”
“Hold on,” the guard said desperately, clearly at a loss. His eyes were darting around like pinballs. “We can skip standard procedure this one time. But in the future, please at least consult with security before barreling down the hall.”
Jessie and Ryan exchanged amused looks.
“You got it, pal,” Ryan finally said. “Now may we please resume police business?”
The guard nodded. He turned his security key and hit the “up” button.
“What floor?” he asked.
“Seven,” Jessie said.
“May I ask who you’re visiting at least?”
“You can ask,” Ryan said as the doors began to close. “But we can’t tell you.”
Once the doors shut completely and the elevator began moving, Jessie turned to him.
“You were a real jerk to that guy,” she said, smiling.
“Are you kidding?” Ryan retorted, also grinning. “I could hear you yelling at him from the lobby. How do you think I knew where to find you?”
Jessie felt a strong urge to kiss him but fought it valiantly.
“Did anyone else seem interested?” she asked instead.
“You mean, could I tell if anyone had followed either of us? The answer is no. Of course, if they’re really good I might have missed them. But I don’t think I did.”
The elevator pinged and the doors opened. They stepped out into the long hallway and made their way to the main entrance of the firm Conway, French & Sykes, where Aaron Rose worked. When they got to the door, they exchanged an excited glance.
“This could be our guy,” Jessie whispered.
“Let’s hope so,” Ryan said. “I’d really rather our killer not be a department commander.”
“We can dream,” Jessie said, opening the door.
They walked up to the reception desk, where Jessie let Ryan do his thing. He was very good at it. He stood tall and square-shouldered in front of the harried girl hanging up the phone and flashed his badge as he spoke.