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

by Blake Pierce

  This time the pause was briefer.

  “She’s at a cake tasting with clients at the Hillhurst Bakery,” she said sullenly.

  Reid immediately moved into the left lane.

  “Thank you, Yasmine,” Jessie replied, still maintaining her faux chipper tone. “Assuming your information is accurate, you won’t have to be strip searched today.”

  She had barely hung up when Reid spoke.

  “That’s only about five minutes from here,” he said as he made a U-turn.

  “You really lit a fire under her,” Kat marveled from the backseat. “But aren’t you worried that she’ll tip Jeanie Court off?”

  Jessie shrugged.

  “I’d be surprised,” she said. “But so what if she does? If the wedding planner decides to make a run for it, it will reflect pretty poorly on her.”

  “Still,” Reid added. “I think we’ll go without sirens, just in case.”

  “That’s fine,” Jessie agreed. “I need a little quiet. I was hoping to call Hannah. I don’t know when I’ll get another chance anytime soon. You mind?”

  Reid shook his head. Kat didn’t say anything, but simply sat back in her seat uncomfortably. Jessie knew this might be awkward for her, but right now she didn’t care. She needed to talk to her sister. Hannah was trying to turn over a new leaf; now it was her big sister’s turn to come clean.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  Hannah almost didn’t take the call.

  Getting dragged out of class (again) was embarrassing enough. But having to spend the day with a portly, sweaty detective was even worse. Now Jessie was calling, almost certainly to make sure she wasn’t causing the guy trouble.

  No. This is a fresh start. Give her the benefit of the doubt.

  She repeated the mantra in her head as she picked up.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Hey,” Jessie replied. “You home safe now?”

  “I am,” she answered, unable to totally eliminate the sarcasm. “I’m just hanging here with my best bud Brady Bowen. We’re getting set to play tiddlywinks.”

  In truth she was in her room with the door closed. Brady was in the kitchen, rifling through their cupboards in the hopes of finding an unhealthy snack.

  “Sounds fun,” Jessie said, not taking the bait. “So you’re probably wondering what’s going on.”

  “I think I get it,’ Hannah assured her. “Elderly serial killer, may go after investigators’ families, must take precautions.”

  She heard a little hesitation in her sister’s voice and knew something bigger was coming.

  “That’s true but it’s more than that,” Jessie said. “He’s not just going after investigators’ families. He’s going after our family.”

  Hannah sat, numbly holding the phone as Jessie gave her a primer on the Night Hunter’s history.

  “He used to cut people up with machetes,” she concluded. “But Garland found him; this was twenty years ago. They fought. Both men almost died. Then the Night Hunter disappeared for decades.”

  Her sister described how he-remerged with a new method of murder, immobilizing victims with an injected drug, then cutting their flesh into ribbons with an exacto knife. But only when Jessie got to the kicker did her numbness begin to make way for a creeping sense of horror.

  “Both victims had the initials J.H.,” she explained. “It was clear that these were messages intended for me. Then Jamil Winslow, our police researcher, discovered that he’s been staking out our house. And finally, last night, he killed someone else. Only this time the victim had the initials H.D., and she looked like you.”

  “Are you sure?” Hannah muttered, more to make certain her voice was working than because she doubted what she was being told.

  “I saw pictures of her,” Jessie said. “She’s a little older than you, blonde hair just past her shoulders, green eyes, same height and weight. I wouldn’t have been able to tell you apart from a distance. Ryan learned all that just after he dropped you off at school. That’s why he had Brady pick you up. That’s why there’s a patrol car parked down the block and a second one circling the neighborhood. This man is playing games with us. But we’re worried that he’s decided games aren’t enough anymore.”

  Now it all made sense. Jessie wasn’t just furious that she had been lying about her whereabouts and what she was doing. She was terrified that her little sister was about to be abducted and skinned alive. That’s why learning that Hannah had gotten into the car of an old man the other night had freaked her out so much. She wasn’t angry as much as worried. Still, she’d kept this from her.

  “How long have you known all this?” Hannah demanded. “How long have you been keeping me in the dark?”

  The delay in getting a response told her that her sister was trying to stay calm before answering.

  “We’ve suspected for a while that it wasn’t a coincidence that he showed up here in L.A., where his long-time nemesis lived and recently died. But it was only in the last couple of days that we began to suspect that he might be starting up a new cat and mouse game with me, Garland’s protégé.”

  “But you knew something unusual was up,” Hannah challenged.

  “Yes,” Jessie conceded. “But the idea that all this was personally directed at me, and apparently at you, is new. Until we realized that, we thought that standard safety precautions would be enough. We didn’t want to upend your world again. We really wanted you to finally have something like a normal life. But now that we understand the magnitude of this, we had to take action. That’s why we have to lock everything down. No running off, no going anywhere unsupervised, and no attending school in person until we nail him. I know that sounds Draconian, but we don’t have much choice.”

  Hannah ignored the bitterness bubbling in her gut and did her best to focus on the bigger picture.

  “I understand,” she said, trying to put herself in her sister’s shoes. “I don’t like it, but I understand.”

  “Thank you.”

  Another thought popped into Hannah’s head.

  “What about you and Ryan? This guy killed his partner the other night. Are you safe?”

  “We are,” Jessie said reassuringly. “Ryan is operating out of the station. He’s hunting everywhere for this guy, but he’s still confined to desk work. I’m working the Jax case with Detective Reid and we’ve brought on an additional team member to help us out and serve as an extra set of eyes.”

  “Who?” Hannah asked, noting that her sister had pointedly avoided mentioning a name.

  “Kat.”

  The name sent a cascade of emotions coursing through her system. She’d been so intent on resenting Jessie that she’d barely made time for her sister’s best friend. But it was too hard to wade through her feelings about Kat—a jumble of animosity, affection, and guilt— right now. She decided not to address it.

  “How’s the investigation going?” she asked.

  “Not sure yet,” Jessie confessed. “But we’re following up on a lead right now. I know you really want us to solve this one.”

  “Not just me,” Hannah reminded her. “She meant a lot to a bunch of people. I always told myself that if some girl from Podunk, Louisiana, could go from barely scraping by to influencing fashion around the country in half a dozen years, I could make my dreams real too. There are hundreds of thousands of girls who feel the same way.”

  “I know,” Jessie said quietly. “I promise that I’m doing everything I can. In fact, we’re pulling up to talk to someone of interest now. I’ve got to go.”

  “Good luck,” Hannah said, “and be safe.”

  “I will,” Jessie said before hanging up.

  She sat quietly in her room, thinking. Her sister was trying to catch the person who killed one of her heroes. Meanwhile she was stuck in this house, at risk from an old man who still somehow managed to murder three people much younger than him.

  She knew better than to underestimate the guy, especially after learning what people in their la
ter years were capable of. Edward Wexler had taught her that. He’d spent his final years selflessly dedicating himself to helping people. If the Night Hunter was half as driven, he could do as much harm as Wexler had done good.

  As much as that frightened her, it also unearthed another feeling, one she was all too familiar with: excitement. Despite everything she’d told Dr. Lemmon and all her pledges to herself to rise above her urges, she couldn’t help but acknowledge the truth: she felt a little thrill at the possibility of coming face to face with the Night Hunter. How would he try to ensnare her? How would she react? Yes, the prospect was scary, but at least it wasn’t something else: boring.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  The car screeched to a stop.

  Despite the lack of sirens, Reid had pulled up to the bakery hard and fast and his under-pumped tires let everyone around know. That wasn’t a big deal to the average person. But if someone in that bakery heard it and was already on edge, it would almost certainly set off their internal alarm.

  With that concern in mind, Jessie leapt out of the car the second it came to a stop and dashed to the front door. Hillhurst Bakery was an unassuming storefront situated along a stretch of funky, eclectic businesses. To the left of the bakery was an Ethiopian café. To the right was a hookah shop called The Suck.

  Under other circumstances, Jessie would have loved to window shop, but right now her focus was on what was happening behind the window directly in front of her. There was a sizable group of people inside, hard to tell apart because of the sun’s glare.

  She stepped inside, sensing that Kat was right behind her. It took a second to orient herself. At least a dozen cakes, some as much as five tiers high, sat on tall tables scattered through the room. Many more decorated the counters closer to the walls. She thought she might get a sugar high just from the scent of the place.

  Everyone in the group looked up when she entered. Four of them were standing around a smaller table, where they appeared to be partaking of a much more modest cake. Three other people—two women and a man—stood slightly off to the side, observing. One woman was holding a camera. Another held a pen and notepad.

  One of the people eating the cake, a woman in her forties wearing a gray pantsuit, appeared to be slowly separating herself from the others. With her elaborate updo, fully made-up face and panicky eyes, Jessie knew it was Jeanie Court. Everyone else in the store looked confused by the two harried women who’d just burst in, now joined by an older man, breathing heavily.

  “I’m afraid the bakery is appointment only,” the woman who was clearly the cake baker said in a polite but firm tone. “I’m busy right now but you can call and I’m happy to schedule something with you for later in the week.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Jessie said, watching Court inch toward the short hallway that led to the back of the establishment. We’re here on other business. We just need to steal Jeanie Court for a few moments.”

  That seemed to set the pant-suited planner over the edge. Without a word, she turned and scurried toward the back, kicking off her heels as she ran. She inadvertently bumped into a three-tiered cake with a figurine couple on top. It teetered for a few seconds, and then toppled over, splattering the floor with icing. Jessie and Kat shared a disbelieving look. Was this woman really trying to make a run for it?

  “You follow her,” Kat said quickly. “I’ll go back outside and cut her off in the alley.”

  She was gone before Jessie could reply. Reid looked slightly taken aback but got over it quickly.

  “Go ahead,” he said. “I’ll catch up.”

  Jessie nodded and darted after Court, still astonished that the woman thought this was her best course of action. The wedding planner had just exited the back door and, despite her desire to barrel after her, Jessie moved with caution, dodging the sweet mess on the carpet. Her heart was pounding harder than she thought the situation deserved. She unholstered her gun and peeked out into the alley.

  Court was running down the alley as fast as she could in her confining business slacks. Jessie gave chase but lost sight of her as she rounded the corner from the back alley to the driveway that connected to the main street. She slowed when she reached the driveway, preparing to take another cautious look.

  But before she could peer around the building, she heard a grunt, followed by heavy thud. She carefully stepped out to find Jeanie Court sprawled out on her stomach, with Kat straddling her, pinning her wrists behind her with zip ties.

  Jessie walked toward them, holstering her gun as her breathing returned to normal and the tingling in her fingers started to subside.

  “Jeanie Court?” she asked, after stopping and staring down at the woman, who still looked winded from Kat’s takedown.

  “Lawyer,” she managed to grunt before resting her cheek on the asphalt.

  “Really?” Jessie asked, hoping to get her to reconsider. “All we wanted to do was talk. But first you decide to go on the lam and now you’re clamming up? This feels a little extra for a wedding planner, no?”

  “Lawyer,” Court said more forcefully.

  “Hunt, shut it down,” Reid said from behind her. He’d finally managed to join them in the driveway. He looked pale and winded but mumbled his objection anyway. “I know you’re not LAPD. But the rules still apply to me. We’ve got a suspect who ran away at the sight of us rather than be questioned. That’s pretty damning. Let’s not screw this up by fudging procedure.”

  Jessie was frustrated but knew he had a point. There was no point in forcing an interrogation when it might jeopardize a conviction, especially when it appeared not to be necessary.

  “Okay, okay,” she relented, raising her hands in surrender.

  “Why don’t you two go back inside, see what you can glean from the others?” Reid said. “I’ll call for a patrol car to take her down to the station.”

  Jessie was happy to let him handle the bureaucratic work and walked back around to the front. Kat fell into step beside her.

  “I wish I could have seen that tackle,” Jessie said. “It sounded like you really laid her out.”

  Kat smiled.

  “Most people don’t know this, but I was drafted as a strong safety in the second round by the Bears.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” Jessie said, enjoying the moment despite the chasm that still remained between them. Kat knew not to push and said nothing more. When they returned to the bakery, everyone was still inside. Most looked as confused as they had before. No one was eating cake anymore.

  “What the hell just happened?” the woman with the camera asked.

  “That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Jessie said non-responsively. “We’re hoping you can help with that. My name is Jessie Hunt. I’m a consultant for the LAPD and this is my associate, Katherine Gentry. The man outside with Ms. Court is Detective Callum Reid. Can everyone please identify themselves and explain your connection to her?”

  Everyone was briefly silent before the camera lady, an unassuming thirty-something in a long, modest skirt, finally spoke up.

  “I’m Sloane Baker,” she said. “I’m a wedding photographer. I work with Jeanie a lot. I was here to take photos of the cake tasting for the Wyatts.”

  “I assume you’re the Wyatts?” Jessie said, looking at the couple wiping their faces with linen napkins.

  “Yes,” the guy said. “I’m Gary and this is Hilly.”

  “Congratulations,” Jessie said before her turning attention to the woman in the apron. “And you’re the baker?”

  “Uh-huh,” she muttered, apparently still shell-shocked. She looked over at the remnants of the cake that Court had knocked over and shook her head. “I’m Stacy Barrett. I work with Jeanie all the time.”

  “We all do,” said the woman with the notepad next to the photographer. She was older, likely in her forties, and gave off a mom vibe. “I’m the caterer, Deb Carl.”

  “And I’m Chet Hamilton, the deejay,” said the tall skinny guy next to her. He lo
oked like he was barely out of college.

  “Why is the deejay at the cake tasting?” Kat asked, voicing the very question Jessie had.

  “Jeanie’s big on that,” he answered. “She likes the whole team working as one collective unit, so everyone is on the same page. She doesn’t like when a wedding seems disjointed.”

  “When a couple wants live music, I’ve seen her bring in the bandleaders to tastings,” Sloane the photographer offered. “She once had the lead singer of a heavy metal band come to a wedding shower so he could get a sense of the energy of the bride’s friends.”

  “So you work with her on all her weddings?” Jessie asked.

  “Not all,” Deb the caterer volunteered. “It depends on what the couple is after. Jeanie has a small stable of vendors she works with regularly, including us. We all know each other pretty well.”

  “Can you please tell us what this is about now?” Hilly Wyatt asked, understandably disconcerted. “We’re supposed to be getting married in six weeks and you just chased our wedding planner out the back door. What did she do?”

  “I’m afraid we can’t get into the details of that at this time,” Jessie said. “But we’d appreciate it if you could all give us your contact information. We’ll be in touch if we have additional questions.”

  As the others wrote down their details, Chet the deejay shimmied up to Jessie.

  “If I give you my contact information,” he whispered to her, “do you promise to get in touch even if you don’t have questions?”

  “What?”

  “I love older women,” he said by way of explanation.

  Jessie turned to Kat, not sure whether to laugh or ask for help. Without even blinking, Kat stepped over and wrapped her arm around Jessie’s waist.

  “Sorry,” she said with utter seriousness. “She’s taken.”

  Jessie barely managed to keep a straight face as the guy skulked off. She didn’t say it, but Kat was making it increasingly difficult to hold a grudge. Then she reminded herself why she was upset in the first place.