THE PERFECT HOUSE

by Blake Pierce

  “Maybe we should give the border patrol his info,” Ryan suggested, only half-joking. “We could have one suspect leaving Mexico while another tries to make a getaway there.”

  “It’s not a crazy idea, actually,” Brady noted. “When I get off with you, I think I’ll reach out to them.”

  “We’re actually almost back to Central Station now,” Ryan told him. “So we’ll let you go. But keep us apprised, all right?”

  “You got it. Have a good night,” Brady said and hung up.

  They made the final turn before entering the station’s parking garage. Ryan looked over at Jessie.

  “Time’s almost up,” he said. “Have you decided? Are you going to let Decker know what’s going on?”

  Jessie sighed and nodded.

  “What do I have to lose? It’s only my career, right?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

  Decker wasn’t as upset as she’d expected.

  It wasn’t clear whether he totally bought her “I inadvertently took what turned out to be crucial evidence” excuse. But he didn’t call her on it. Once he was assured that Thurman’s face wasn’t visible in the video, his interest waned.

  “You can bring it in tomorrow and we’ll have tech see if they can glean anything you might have missed. You’d be amazed what they can pull from a seemingly useless piece of footage. In the meantime, I want you to take a look at the screen grabs of the guy we identified and see if you think it’s your father.”

  A tech named Nora pulled up the footage. It was of a man exiting the 7th Street Metro Center station this morning at 10:19. He wore a cap and sunglasses and kept his head down most of the time he was on camera. But at one point, someone passing by accidentally bumped into him, causing him to look up briefly.

  It was that moment that had been flagged by the facial recognition program. The clearest frame grab of his face had been isolated and cleaned up and was now staring back at her through the computer monitor. According to the readout on the screen, it matched older photos of Thurman with 82% accuracy. She stared at the man for a long time before answering.

  “I just don’t know, Captain,” she admitted. “It could be him. Clearly the program thinks it might be. And it makes sense. How far is that metro station from where we are now—about a mile? But I haven’t seen the man in anything other than grainy footage in which he’s wearing disguises or masks for two years. The cheekbones look similar. But I can’t honestly say how much of this is objectively judging and how much is me making assumptions.”

  Decker looked frustrated but said nothing.

  “Were you able to track where he went after that?” Ryan asked Nora.

  “No,” she said. “We didn’t get the image alert until about two hours ago so we couldn’t track him in real time. We’ve had folks combing through camera footage from the area ever since. But our coverage has gaps in that sector. I wouldn’t count on getting much back.”

  “So where do we go from here?” Jessie asked.

  “Where you’re going is home,” Decker said firmly. “Nettles and Beatty will accompany you again tonight. Once you send out your e-mail reply to Thurman from the security of your apartment, we’ll have our friendly tech folks here see if they can track down his location when he opens it. We’ll probably increase patrols in your neighborhood overnight as an extra precaution. We may even add a couple more plainclothes officers at your building starting tomorrow. I just need to get authorization on that but I doubt it will be hard. In the meantime, we’ll continue to scrub camera footage to see if he pops up again.”

  Jessie opened her mouth, ready to object, when Ryan, who was watching her closely, jumped in.

  “I think that’s a good plan, Captain,” he said, staring her down as he spoke. “I’m sure Jessie will be a bit frustrated being in lockdown at her place. But she knows it’s the right move at this point. I can knock out the paperwork on our arrest of Jeff Percival so she can head out now.”

  “Then we’re agreed?” Decker said, looking at Jessie to see if she was on board.

  She swallowed hard, telling herself that everything they were suggesting was reasonable. Just because it made her a passive participant in her own life didn’t mean it wasn’t the wisest course of action. She would still set everything in motion with her e-mail. She just wouldn’t control what happened after that.

  “Yes sir,” she finally said, forcing a smile to her lips.

  “Great,” Decker said. “I’ll notify Nettles and Beatty to close up shop here. You can head home in the next ten minutes. And remember to call in before you’re about to hit ‘send’ on that e-mail. When do you plan to do it?”

  “I was thinking seven fifty-nine, just to screw with him.”

  “Always smart to antagonize a serial killer,” Decker replied drily before dismissing them all. Once the meeting broke up, Ryan motioned for Jessie to meet him in the courtyard.

  “I’m sorry I bulldozed you back there,” he said when they were outside. “But Decker’s mind was made up. And I worried that if you balked at his plan, he’d start to wonder why. You don’t want that, especially after you just told him what Thurman wants you to do.”

  “I thought you said no one would believe that I would ever consider accepting my father’s proposition.”

  “I don’t,” Ryan assured her. “But he might think that you’re emotionally compromised, which isn’t a crazy concern. And you demanding to do something foolish, like act as bait, might make him question your judgment.”

  “I wasn’t going to suggest that I serve as bait,” Jessie protested.

  “It never crossed your mind?” Ryan said, his eyebrows raised.

  “Barely at all,” she said, trying to fight off the smile she felt creeping to the edges of her mouth.

  “Well, then, that’s my bad, I guess,” he replied, breaking out into a full-on grin.

  “Yes, it is,” she scolded playfully.

  “Listen,” he said, getting serious again. “I wanted to let you know my plan for the night. After I do this paperwork, I’m going to the gym for a bit. I need a good sparring session to build up my confidence after Percival got the jump on me today. Once I shower and clean up, I thought I might stop by a little later to see how you’re holding up, maybe give one of the other guys a short break. Would that be all right?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I’m happy to have the extra company. Nettles and Beatty are great, but neither is a sparkling conversationalist. Just don’t forget that shower. I don’t need you stinking up my brand new cell, er, I mean, home.”

  He looked like he was going to respond, then seemed to change his mind as his face turned slightly pink. Jessie wondered what he was thinking at that moment but decided not to ask.

  “I’ll see you later then,” he said and walked off, before turning back and adding, “Be safe.”

  Jessie watched him go, confused by what had just happened.

  I wish they’d taught me how to profile that at the FBI

  .

  CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

  Both Nettles and Beatty seemed more comfortable wending their way through the labyrinthine route from the retail center to her apartment building this time around. Beatty only missed the boiler room door once this time, for which Jessie gave him a mocking slow clap. He flipped her off in response. They got to the building lobby just before 7 p.m.

  “I’ll take the first shift down here,” Nettles said. “I’ll check in with security to see if they have any updates. Beatty, you escort Jessie upstairs. Give me the all-clear when you’re safely inside with the doors locked and security reengaged.”

  “Sounds good,” Beatty said. “When do you plan to come up?”

  “I probably won’t hang out down here more than a couple of hours. I want to be in lockdown mode by nine p.m. unless there’s an objection. Maybe I can even FaceTime my kids before bed.”

  “No objection from me,” Jessie said. “Detective Hernandez said he might stop by later on to check in. But other than th
at, I’m happy calling it an early night. Today was a bear.”

  “Okay then,” Nettles said. “See you in a bit.”

  He headed down the small set of stairs to meet Fred the security guard and Jimmy the doorman. They saw him coming, both looking visibly happy to have someone new to interact with. Jessie and Beatty went down the back hall to take the service elevator.

  As it rose from the first floor to the fourth, Beatty removed his gun and held it in the ready position. Jessie stared at him. He saw her expression and smiled.

  “Just precautionary,” he said reassuringly.

  “Hey, I’m not complaining,” Jessie said.

  The doors opened and Beatty stepped out first. They both scanned the long hallway for anything suspicious but it was empty.

  “Let’s go,” Beatty said quietly. “No point in dawdling.”

  They hurried down the hall. When they got to Jessie’s door, she checked the peephole to see if anyone had tried to enter. It was green. She unlocked the door and stepped inside with Beatty right behind her.

  As she locked the door and went through the process of deactivating and reactivating security codes, he moved quickly through the apartment, turning on lights, checking behind doors, the closets, the bathroom.

  “All clear,” he said just as Jessie turned the perimeter alarm back on.

  “Good to know,” she said, peering through the peephole one more time.

  “Nettles,” Beatty said into the radio behind here. “Beatty here, over.”

  “Go ahead, Beatty.”

  “We’re good up here. Unit is clean and we’re back in lockdown mode.”

  “Excellent,” came Nettles’s voice. “All clear down here so far. Security reports nothing unusual. I’m going through footage of today’s deliveries to see if anyone looks familiar. Otherwise it’s quiet.”

  “Okay. We’re going to settle in up here. I’ll let you know when Jessie sends that e-mail.”

  “Roger that,” Nettles said.

  “So,” Beatty said, turning to Jessie. “You got any more of that pizza?”

  *

  Jessie changed her mind at 7:28.

  She knew it altered the original plan, but the idea of waiting another half hour to send an e-mail telling her father to screw himself was making her increasingly anxious. Better to just get it over with. She told Beatty as much and went into the bedroom to write a draft.

  She sat down at her laptop and worked through several iterations before finally coming up with something she was happy with. The version she ended up with was short and to the point. It read:

  Let me be clear. You are a killer who murdered the only real family I’ve ever known. We are nothing alike and I would never join your sick mission. Do the right thing. Turn yourself in.

  She reread it a few times. It wasn’t literature but it got the point across. She called the tech folks at the station to let them know she was about to hit “send.” She did the same with Ryan but got his voicemail. He must have still been sparring.

  “I’m about to send this,” she called out to Beatty in the other room. “You want to give Nettles a heads-up?”

  “Will do,” he called back, coming to the door as he radioed down. “Nettles, Beatty here; over.”

  “Go ahead, Beatty.”

  “Jessie’s tired of waiting around. She’s sending the e-mail now.”

  “Understood.”

  “We’ll let you know if we get a reply,” Beatty said.

  “Got it. Good luck, Jessie.”

  Jessie smiled.

  “She says ‘thanks,’” Beatty said.

  Jessie reviewed the message one last time. Satisfied, she hit “send.”

  “It’s done,” she said, looking up.

  “Want a celebratory slice of pizza?” Beatty asked. “It’s almost ready to come out of the oven.”

  “I’m not super hungry,” she replied. “Part of me wouldn’t mind a celebratory shot of whiskey, but that seems like a bad idea.”

  “Maybe once we catch him,” Beatty suggested. “In the meantime, don’t let me eat alone. At least hang out with me.”

  Jessie got up, bringing the laptop with her to the breakfast table. She sat down as he took the pie out of the oven and started cutting it up. Then he got a plate for his three slices.

  Though she knew there was no point, Jessie kept refreshing her e-mail. Of course there was nothing. It had been two minutes, hardly enough time to even open and read a message, much less reply.

  “I feel bad,” Beatty said as he took a big bite of pizza, trying to suck up a loose strand of ropy cheese. “Poor Nettles is looking at surveillance footage while I’m chowing down. I thought the junior officer always got the raw deal.”

  “Well, invite him up,” Jessie suggested. “If he’s done looking at the footage, there’s no reason he has to stay down there until nine. That time seems arbitrary.”

  “Okay, I’ll suggest it. But he’s kind of a stickler so don’t hold your breath.”

  Jessie nodded, eyeing the pizza even as she told herself she didn’t need any.

  “Nettles,” Beatty said into the radio with a full mouth, “Beatty here; over.”

  There was no response. After waiting a few seconds, Beatty swallowed and tried again.

  “Nettles, Beatty here; over.”

  The only sound on the other end of the radio was static mixed with intermittent crackling.

  “Nettles, this is Beatty. Please respond. Over.”

  Still, there was nothing.

  Beatty looked up at Jessie. His eyes suggested that he didn’t think this was just a radio issue.

  “Try again,” she said urgently.

  “Nettles, this is Beatty. I need you to respond now. Confirm your status, please. Over.”

  They waited a good ten seconds. Nothing.

  Beatty, who had been staring at the radio as if willing it to respond, looked up at Jessie.

  “I’m going down,” he said

  .

  CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

  Jessie didn’t try to talk him out of it. Despite her misgivings, she knew it was useless.

  “I’ll call it in,” she said.

  “It’s probably nothing,” Beatty said unconvincingly. “I bet he just went to the bathroom and forgot the radio.”

  “That doesn’t sound like Nettles.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” he agreed.

  “Be careful,” she said. “If this is Thurman, he’s adept with disguises. Don’t trust anyone you come across, no matter how innocuous they look, okay?”

  “Believe me, I’m not taking any chances. You want to check those cameras for me before I step into the hall? I’d rather not go out there blind.”

  Jessie turned the TV to the channel that had her security feed. According to the various cameras outside, the hallway was clear.

  “You’re good,” she told him.

  “Okay. Lock up again the second I step outside. And call it in ASAP. Better to deal with a false alarm than…something else.”

  He unlocked the door and stepped into the hall as Jessie relocked the doors and punched the code back in. She grabbed her cell phone and dialed the station as she watched Beatty walk down the hall, gun out. He skipped the elevator and went to the stairwell, pushing the door open slowly. As he disappeared behind it, someone came on the line.

  “Central Station,” came a brusque female voice.

  “Yes, this is criminal profiler Jessie Hunt. Please give me Captain Decker. This is an emergency.”

  “Connecting,” the voice said without hesitation. She must have been alerted about the evening’s situation because there was no pushback.

  The call went to straight to Decker’s office voicemail. Apparently the desk officer hadn’t been informed of the nature of the situation after all. Jessie left a quick message explaining her concerns, hoping the call would be forwarded to his cell, as many cops set up their systems to do.

  She tried calling the tech line and got voicemail fo
r them too. Rather than leaving another message, she hung up and decided to just cut to the chase and call 911. She was immediately put into a hold queue. As she waited, she put the call on speaker, slid on her sneakers, and grabbed the nightstick beside the door.

  Suddenly the call went dead. She walked over and looked at the phone screen. There were no signal bars. She glanced over at her laptop and saw that the screen now said “internet connection lost.” She looked over at the TV.

  The hallway images, in four boxes showing different angles, were still up. But as a precaution, that connection was hardwired and independent of the web for this very reason. She switched channels and got a blank screen. The only channel that worked was the one that wasn’t internet-connected.

  She was just starting to question whether this could be a coincidence when she saw movement at the end of the hall on the screen. Looking closely, she saw someone stumble out of the elevator. It was Nettles.

  He was staggering down the hall with both hands clutching his throat. Blood was visibly seeping through his fingers. Jessie started for the door, then forced herself to hold back. She turned her attention back to the screen, looking for any additional movement in the elevator. Was Thurman hiding in there, hoping she’d open the door so he could attack?

  Though it pained her, she waited until Nettles was almost to her door before unlocking it, her eyes on the monitor the whole time. He was just raising his hand to knock when she opened it and pulled him in. She gave one quick glance down both ends of the hall before closing and locking the door and turning the alarm back on.

  Nettles seemed to be trying to speak but his efforts were in vain.

  “Don’t try to talk,” she said as she laid him down on the floor and rushed to the kitchen to grab a roll of paper towels.

  She pulled his hands away from his throat so she could get a better look. It took several seconds to dab away enough of the blood to see what was going on. His throat had been slit by a large, sharp knife. The incision was wide but not especially deep. She was no expert but it didn’t appear that the carotid artery had been cut.