The Perfect Deceit (A Jessie Hunt Psychological Suspense Thriller—Book Fourteen)

by Blake Pierce

  “You’re half right,” Jessie told him. “I absolutely want to talk to a significant other, but not that one just yet. We’re going back to the Bender Mansion.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Ryan didn’t like being sneaky.

  But he knew that if he said anything to Jamil about where he was going, the kid would pepper him with questions, maybe even demand to join him or send a uniformed officer along with him. So he lied.

  “I just need a lunch break to clear my head,” he’d told him before leaving the station.

  It was partly true. He did need a break. For the last hour, they’d been looking for connections between the Night Hunter victims beyond their initials and come up dry. His brain was fried.

  But it was more than that. He couldn’t get away from the feeling that if the man killed again, the victim’s blood would be on his hands. He flashed again to last night, to seeing the elderly murderer walk out of that hostel with blood on him, look over at Ryan, and smile. He couldn’t forget how he’d frozen in that moment and let the killer get away. Nor could he escape the other fact eating at him: if he’d been healthy enough to go up to that hostel bedroom, Alan Trembley would likely be alive today. He had to atone for all of that.

  Yeah, I definitely need a break. Otherwise I may lose it completely.

  Besides, Brady hadn’t returned any of his texts about Hannah and he was starting to worry. Jessie’s sarcastic crack about him getting his throat slit was starting to seem more credible every second and he wanted to check in again.

  But there was another reason he needed solitude: one he wasn’t ready to share. He was so apprehensive about it that he couldn’t stop himself from glancing back guiltily at the Central Station entrance as he waited for his rideshare to arrive. Once it did, he hobbled over as quickly as his cane would allow, hoping to be gone before anyone saw him and got curious about his destination.

  Even as the vehicle pulled out, he was dialing Brady’s number. His friend picked up after three interminable rings.

  “Hey buddy,” Brady said in a tone that immediately suggested he was hiding something, “how’s it going?”

  “Don’t screw with me,” Ryan told him, cutting straight to the chase. “What’s wrong? Why haven’t I heard from you?”

  “Okay, man,” Brady said, still trying to sound casual and failing. “I’ll fill you in. I just don’t want you to overreact.”

  “I won’t overreact if you stop stalling. Update me now, Brady.”

  There was a brief pause during which Ryan suspected his friend was deciding how best to couch what was obviously bad news.

  “So I kind of lost her,” he finally said.

  “You what?”

  “Yeah, everything was cool for a while. She took a rideshare from your house about two hours ago. I followed her until she got dropped off outside an office building downtown just after ten. She stood outside for a few seconds, looked a little freaked out actually. But then she went in. So I went in too. She got in an elevator and I tried to catch it but the doors closed just as I got there.”

  “Was she alone?” Ryan pressed.

  “There was an old lady in there with her,” he said. “She looked pretty harmless.”

  “Are you sure it was an old lady and not an old man disguised as an old lady? Remember, the Night Hunter is elderly.”

  Brady’s hesitation before answering was not reassuring.

  “I only caught a glimpse of her, but it definitely looked like a female to me. Besides, you told me you warned the girl to be on the lookout for suspicious old guys, so I assume she had her guard up. She didn’t look concerned. In fact, I thought maybe she even knew the lady. Anyway, I saw what floor they went to and I took the next elevator up.”

  “Did you find her?”

  There was another long pause.

  “No,” he admitted. “The hall was empty by the time I got up there. But I checked the bathrooms to make sure no one suspicious was hiding in them. I also took photos of the names on every door. I’ve been researching them while I wait.”

  “Wait for what?” Ryan wanted to know.

  “For her to come out of the building.”

  “She’s still in some random office building after an hour and a half?”

  “Actually, I’m not sure about that,” Brady conceded. “After about an hour of waiting in my car, I went back inside and saw that there was an alternate exit to the street on the other side of the building. If she left that way, I would have missed her. I probably should have waited in the lobby.”

  “Ya think? Jeez, Brady. You are killing me here. What am I supposed to tell Jessie?”

  “Why do you have to tell her anything yet? I found everyone from attorneys to therapists to accountants to importer/exporters with offices on that floor. Why assume that some elderly serial killer somehow forced her into one of them? The girl could just be talking to some lawyer about becoming emancipated. That takes time. Why jump to conclusions?”

  “Brady,” Ryan said slowly, trying to keep calm as he watched streets whiz by. “Hannah will be eighteen in a few months. She’s not talking to a lawyer about emancipation. I’m in a car running an errand right now. Tell me where you are, and I’ll come by.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Brady retorted, sounding upset for the first time. “There’s no reason for that. If she’s gone, you showing up won’t do any good. I’m returning to the lobby now. If she’s still up there, I’ll see her when she comes down and let you know. Continue with your day. You asked me to do this. Let me.”

  Ryan sighed, unsure how to respond.

  “For how long? What if Jessie calls? She’s not speaking to her best friend because she held out on her. What do you think she’ll do to me?”

  “Nothing,” Brady insisted, “because you’ll blame me. Give me another half hour. If I don’t see her by then, we’ll go to the next step. But I don’t want you stressing out your already massively frazzled girlfriend if it can be avoided.”

  Ryan rubbed his temples as he thought.

  “Thirty minutes,” he finally said. “Good news, bad news, no news, you call me. Got it?”

  “You can count on me, buddy.”

  Ryan waited until he had hung up to cuss his friend out. He’d barely had a minute to process everything before the car pulled over at the designated address.

  “Thanks,” he said, easing himself out the back door and shuffling over to the sidewalk. The car pulled away and Ryan allowed himself a moment to take in his surroundings.

  Even though Central Station was located only a few miles from here, he was only slightly familiar with this district. He knew it was probably foolish to come to this place alone, without support, based only on a tip from one person. But he worried that if anyone else came along, word of his plan might get out and that couldn’t happen.

  He reconfirmed that he was at the correct address, which he’d hurriedly scrawled on a piece of paper earlier during his clandestine conversation about this place. It matched. As instructed, he limped down the adjoining alley along the building, past two dumpsters until he came to an unmarked door below a small, black awning. He rang the doorbell and waited.

  After nearly a minute, a large, pale man with a shaved head wearing a too-tight sports jacket, a dress shirt, and slacks opened the door. Easily six-foot-five and 250 pounds, the guy looked like a retired professional wrestler who was just starting to let himself go. Ryan could see that the man had a handgun in a shoulder holster under his coat.

  “You got appointment?” the man asked in a thick, Eastern European accent.

  “Yes, for 11:30, with Johann.”

  “You early,” the man said accusatorily, looking at his watch. It was 11:22.

  “Light traffic,” Ryan replied, not sure what else to say.

  “Must search you,” the man growled.

  Ryan had been expecting that.

  “I’m a cop,” he warned, “so I’m carrying.”

  The former wrestler seemed un
fazed by the admission.

  “Have to take,” he said, “will leave in lockbox.”

  Ryan nodded and handed over his service weapon.

  “Ankle too?” the guy asked.

  “Yeah,” Ryan said, removing the small, extra pistol in his ankle holster and delicately placing it in the guard’s massive hand.

  The man handed the weapons to another, only slightly smaller man who appeared behind him with a metal box. That guard placed both guns in the box, locked it, and handed Ryan the key which was attached to a small bracelet. He put it on his wrist.

  “Must still pat down,” the larger guard said.

  Ryan placed his cane against the wall and spread his arms out to his sides. The guard did a quick but thorough search that suggested he might actually have previously worked in a capacity other than professional wrestling. When he was done, he stood back and looked Ryan over.

  “Must check stick too,” he said, pointing at the cane.

  Ryan gave it to him and waited while the guy tapped it in various places. He even pulled off the rubberized base to make sure there was nothing hidden inside. When he was satisfied, he returned the cane and moved aside.

  Ryan stepped through the door, as well as the metal detector that was just inside. The space was tight and dimly lit, with deep wood paneling. Once he’d passed through the detector and the door was locked behind him, he was directed to a small counter where a third man stood. This one was much older, well into his seventies, and looked like he’d spent way too many hours in the sun. When he squinted at Ryan, his face looked like it might actually crack.

  “Mr. Hernandez?” the man confirmed.

  “Yes.”

  “You were referred by Ray Vessey, correct?”

  “That’s right,” Ryan said. He could feel both of the guards standing uncomfortably close behind him and did his best not to look unsettled.

  “And you are consulting with Johann today, hoping to take advantage of his expertise?”

  “That’s what was discussed.”

  “Very well,” the old man said and reached under the counter.

  Ryan felt his muscles tense up even more than they already were, and tried to remind himself that, at least according to Ray, the likelihood of being assaulted in here was negligible. He heard a soft buzz and saw one of the wall panels to the right of the man slowly slide open.

  Though it looked like wood, the hidden door was made of some kind of heavy metal. It took several, grindingly slow seconds for the thing to come to a stop. Behind it was another room. The old man gave a flourish of a wave, indicating for Ryan to pass through.

  Once he did, everything changed. He was now in a much larger, brightly lit room, with three display cases, all of which held diamond rings. He imagined that the contents of this room alone were worth well over nine figures.

  His anxiety level immediately ratcheted up a few notches. Was he actually doing this? Was he really considering buying an engagement ring? A shuffling sound to his right snapped him out of his thoughts.

  “Hello, Detective Hernandez,” said a man emerging from a small room behind the center display case. “So glad to meet you. I’m Johann Glitz.”

  Ryan made sure to keep a straight face despite the absurdity of a jeweler with the last name Glitz. The man was almost as ostentatious looking as his name. His black hair was slicked back and tied in a short ponytail. He had an immaculately groomed goatee. His face was unnaturally tan, and he wore a black turtleneck sweater that looked like it was about to choke him.

  “Nice to meet you as well,” he managed to say neutrally.

  “I hear that we were recommended to you by Ray Vessey,” Johann replied in a thick accent that Ryan guessed was South African. “What an interesting world we live in where a respected police detective can get a jeweler recommendation from a sports bookie.”

  “Well, before he was a bookie, he was a neighborhood friend. I’m not sure our professions played much of a role in me being here. How do you know him?”

  “Would you believe we go to the same synagogue?” Johann asked.

  “I actually would,” Ryan said. “Ray mentioned that his temple attracted an eclectic mix of folks. Anyway, he tells me that you are a rare breed.”

  “How so?”

  “He said that you have impeccable taste, ethically resourced merchandise, and that you rarely try to up-sell.”

  Johann smiled.

  “The first two are unquestionably true,” he said. “There might be some debate on that last claim. But seeing as how you are a dedicated civil servant rather than a twenty-something music producer, I’m less inclined to push on that front. My hope is if that you leave here satisfied, you’ll mention me to some of your law enforcement friends. It never hurts to be well liked by the police.”

  Ryan didn’t want the guy to get too far ahead of himself.

  “I should warn you,” he said. “For this visit, I’m really here just to look. I’m not sure I’m ready to pull the trigger just yet.”

  “Of course not,” Johann replied. “I assume we’re considering an engagement ring, yes?”

  Ryan nodded. He couldn’t bring himself to say “yes” out loud. He could still barely believe that he was actually in a place like this, considering looking for a ring. He knew he wanted to take the next step. But until today, he’d always told him himself that they should wait.

  They should wait until he was healthier, until Jessie was more settled at the university, until Hannah had graduated and was on an independent path. That’s what his head told him. But after last night, with Hannah running away and Trembley’s murder, he’d come to a realization: there would always be something, some obstacle he could use as an excuse for waiting, for delaying the life he dreamed of. But life was short, and he was tired of waiting. So he was here.

  “Not sure about the young woman, is it?” Johann asked, pulling him out of his thoughts.

  “Why do you say that?” he asked.

  “You said you were just looking, that you’re not ready to pull the trigger. Are you having doubts?”

  Ryan knew he was being worked but didn’t mind.

  “About the girl? No. I’d give my life for her, so a proposal doesn’t feel like a big leap. It’s just that we’ve just had a rough year and I didn’t want to add to the stress. Plus, I’m just not sure I’m quite ready to make the financial commitment that comes with a purchase like this.”

  He looked at the array of rings in the glass display case and tried not to choke on the prices marked in tiny print beside each one. Most went for at least five figures. A few cost more than he made in a year. At least one was more expensive than Jessie’s house.

  “I understand,” Johann said soothingly. “The sticker shock can be daunting, especially for a trinket. Though you’re not really paying for the trinket itself so much as what it represents, don’t you agree?”

  “I guess,” Ryan said, shrugging.

  “Detective Hernandez, may I try something unusual with you?”

  Okay,” Ryan said warily.

  “Could you describe your beloved in one brief sentence for me? Take your time.”

  Ryan responded immediately.

  “She’s the toughest, bravest, smartest, most stubborn, beautiful, devoted person I’ve ever met.”

  Johann nodded, and then closed his eyes. He stood silently for twenty seconds. When he opened his eyes again, he moved over to the far end of the display case on the left and glanced down. He grinned slightly, and then motioned for Ryan to join him.

  Ryan walked over and looked at the ring. The first thing he noticed was that he wouldn’t have to sell a kidney to buy it. The diamond was a little smaller than some of the others, with an unfussy but still delicate, sparkly cut.

  The ring itself, with a narrow, solid silver band, gleamed up at him. It was lovely in an understated way, the ring of a woman who was gorgeous but no frills, who appreciated romance and good sense in equal measure. It looked as if it had been designed sp
ecifically for Jessie’s finger. It was perfect.

  He looked up at Johann, who seemed to know what he was going to say.

  “I’ll take it.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  There would be no return trip to the Bender Mansion.

  Apparently, Jack had gone home to collect a few clothes before he returned to his mother’s place. He’d agreed to meet Jessie and Reid there.

  As they pulled up to his impressive house in the hills just south of the famed Greek Theater, just a three-minute drive up from where Jax and Titus had been living, Jessie was glad for the change of venue for this second interview. Without his mother lingering at his side, maybe the guy would be a little more forthcoming.

  Jack came out to meet them, along with a short, muscular man that Jessie assumed was another member of Lisanne’s security squad. As they walked up, Jessie took in the home. It was some kind of modernist cube concoction, with four levels that looked like large blocks stacked unevenly on top of each other. It was like a real-life version of a Jenga tower.

  “Thanks for meeting me here,” Jack said, shaking both their hands. “I was just packing up the last of my essentials.”

  “So you’re planning to stay at your mom’s for a while?” Reid asked.

  “At least until I find a new place, yes.”

  “You’re not moving back here?” Jessie asked, though she wasn’t really surprised. She too had moved more than once because of the bad, violent memories associated with where she lived.

  “I could never,” he said. “Knowing what Claire went through in this house, I wouldn’t get a single night’s sleep. I’ll sell it as soon as possible, probably at a loss, though you never know what the jackals in this town will find to be valuable.”

  Jessie wasn’t going to argue the point.

  “Shall we go in then and talk?” she asked.

  He nodded and led them inside, seemingly oblivious to the expensive art on the walls or the elaborate sculptures on display tables throughout. They joined him in a decked out living room that, despite a large-screen TV, a pool table, and a wet bar, somehow seemed allergic to casual interaction.