The Perfect Neighbor (A Jessie Hunt Psychological Suspense Thriller—Book Nine)

by Blake Pierce

  Cunningham was shorter than Jessie but had at least fifty pounds on her and she got the worst of the impact. They both toppled over, Jessie backward again, this time with Cunningham on top of her. Shaw was somewhere in the mix as well.

  A searing pain cut through Jessie as her raw back landed heavily on the hardwood floor. Through her watery eyes, she saw that Cunningham had apparently lost the golf club in the fall. But that didn’t stop him from wrapping his hands around her throat and squeezing.

  At first she was so stunned, she didn’t even process the fact that she couldn’t breathe. But a half-second later, the reality of the situation kicked in. Without making the conscious choice, she swung the small flashlight, still in her left hand, upward.

  It connected with Cunningham’s right temple but didn’t seem to do much damage. Her left hand was her non-dominant one and weaker than her right. Still she swung again. This time Cunningham was ready and blocked the blow with his raised right elbow. The light flew out of her hand into the corner of the room.

  The only positive was that when he’d lifted his arm to protect himself, Cunningham’s grip on her neck loosened slightly, allowing her to get a gasp of air before he crushed down again. Ignoring her throbbing back, Jessie fixed her blurry vision on Cunningham’s doughy, enraged face and concentrated. Then, with all the strength she could muster, she swung both of her now balled-up fists toward his head, simultaneously smashing them into his ears.

  He howled in pain, again loosening his grip briefly. Jessie used the respite to thrust her head up hard and fast and felt the top of her skull connect with something hard on his face. When she fell back, she saw that blood was already starting to drip from his nose.

  Despite his screechy bawling, Cunningham stared down at her with furious intensity and swung his fist toward her face. Jessie closed her eyes in anticipation of the contact. None came.

  She opened her eyes again to find that Officer Carrie Shaw had managed to crawl onto her knees and grab his fist with both her hands. Cunningham was frantically trying to yank it free while shoving at the cop with his other hand.

  Though her torso was still pinned down by his weight, there was no longer anything constricting her throat. Jessie took another quick breath and swung her fists up again, this time pummeling Cunningham with repeated punches to the nose and eyes. He flailed at her with the arm Officer Shaw wasn’t clutching but couldn’t stop the barrage of strikes she rained up on his face.

  A moment later she heard a deafening crunch and looked over to see Ryan smash through the door like a blitzing linebacker. He rolled to his feet, took stock of the situation, and aimed his weapon at Pierce Cunningham.

  Everyone tangled up on the floor froze.

  “Wait!” Jessie shouted. “He’s unarmed!”

  There was another moment of unmoving silence from the three people on the ground.

  “In that case,” Ryan said as he marched toward them. Without breaking stride, he lifted his right leg and kicked Cunningham, still atop Jessie, sending him careening across the room. The man slammed into the far wall and collapsed into a heap. Ryan moved quickly toward him, pinned his arms behind his back, and cuffed him.

  “Can I borrow your cuffs?” he asked of Officer Shaw.

  She tossed them to him and he used them to attach the man to a bedpost.

  “I think she broke my nose,” Cunningham wailed.

  “Are you two okay?” Ryan asked, ignoring him.

  Shaw nodded. Jessie did the same as she rolled gingerly onto her stomach and slowly got to her feet. Ryan grabbed her arm to steady her. She smiled to let him know there was no permanent damage before turning to Shaw.

  “Thanks for the assist,” she said with a raspy voice.

  “Thank you,” Shaw replied, her voice equally strained. “He caught me by surprise. If you hadn’t shown up, I’d be…thank you.”

  She grew quiet at the realization of what almost happened to her. The sound of sirens fast approaching filled the air.

  “Better call it in,” Jessie advised, hoping to help the young cop snap out of her own head and avoid the kind of emotional spiral she knew all too well. “We don’t want to get accidentally shot when we’ve got the guy in custody.”

  While Shaw did that, Ryan leaned in close and whispered to her.

  “How are you really doing? You look like you want to scream louder than Cunningham is.”

  “Let’s just say I may allow myself an extra pain pill tonight, but not just yet. I need to stay clear-headed when we question this guy. I want to be the one to get him to confess to killing Garland. I owe him that.”

  She wanted to say more but suddenly the full weight of what had just happened—the sprint up the stairs, the feel of her back slamming into the floor, the ache in her throat—all hit her at once.

  “Can you help me to the bathroom?” she asked quietly. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

  Everything throbbed.

  Jessie was still in serious discomfort, but the nausea had passed. As she sat in the MBPD interrogation room, listening to Ryan read Pierce Cunningham his Miranda rights, she felt a renewed sense of purpose and strength. She couldn’t bring Garland Moses back. But she could at least nail his killer so that he might have some measure of peace when he was laid to rest in less than two days.

  She sat quietly as Cunningham agreed to waive his right to counsel and began answering Ryan’s questions about the murders. He was forthright, sounding alternately defeated and proud as he relived the particulars of the attacks on both Priscilla Barton and Kelly Martindale. No question went unanswered. No detail was too small to share.

  When Ryan was satisfied that he had what he needed, he nodded at Jessie. She delicately got to her feet and leaned over the table between her and the suspect, staring at him silently. His broken nose was bandaged but some blood was still seeping through it. He already had dark shadows developing under his eyes, which were red from where Jessie had punched him repeatedly. Ryan had assured him that they’d take him to the hospital to get checked out once he had answered all questions to their satisfaction. It didn’t seem to occur to the man to press the issue.

  “Despite the intimacy of our earlier interaction,” she began, “we haven’t been properly introduced, Mr. Cunningham. My name is Jessie Hunt. I’m a criminal profiler for the LAPD. Do you know what that means?”

  “Serial killers and stuff,” Cunningham said, expressing inappropriate pride in his answer.

  “That’s right, at least partly. My job is to get into the minds of criminals to try to understand why they do what they do in order to better determine how to stop them. And I think I’m pretty good at it. But you know who was better?”

  Cunningham shook his head, clearly perplexed as to where this was heading.

  “Garland Moses,” she said evenly.

  “Who’s that?” he asked disinterestedly.

  Jessie promised herself that she would not lose it, as she had with Hemsley. She had to stay cool, for Garland’s sake.

  “That’s the man you murdered on Tuesday night, Pierce,” she said, switching to his first name.

  “What?”

  “Surely you remember the elderly man you strangled with a belt barely twenty-four hours ago, Pierce,” she said, surprised at how composed she sounded. “My question for you isn’t how, though. We know that. My question is why? I can’t figure it out. Was it just bad timing or does your choking fetish extend to old Jewish men with bifocals and worn-out slacks?”

  Cunningham looked at her, bewildered, before turning to Ryan.

  “Is this some kind of joke?” he asked. “Is she trying to mess with my head?”

  “It’s not a joke,” Ryan said calmly. “Answer her question.”

  Cunningham looked back at Jessie, still apparently befuddled.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, lady. I didn’t kill any old man.”

  Jessie stood up straight, partly to give her back a
break and partly to keep herself from leaping at the guy. The control she’d felt earlier was starting to slip away. When she felt calm enough to continue, she replied in a soft, cold voice.

  “You just gave us every bit of minutiae on the other murders. Why hold back now? Unburden yourself, Pierce, You’ll feel better.”

  “Listen,” Cunningham said, leaning in himself now. “I don’t have any problem getting into the details, obviously. If I had killed this guy you’re talking about, I’d admit to it. But I’ve only killed two people in my life. Trust me. I thought I was going to increase the total tonight. You might remember that.”

  He smiled nastily as he added that last bit. But Jessie was no longer focused on his tone. As her mind raced, she felt a familiar, creeping dread rise in her chest. She leaned back in, boring holes in Cunningham’s eyes.

  “To be clear,” she said, adopting a composed tone she didn’t feel inside, “you’re saying that you did not kill Garland Moses.”

  He stared right back with unblinking eyes.

  “To be clear,” he replied, “I wish I had. This guy obviously meant a lot to you. And I’d love to know that I had ripped him away from you. Nothing would fill me with greater pleasure. But sadly, it wasn’t me.”

  Jessie looked over at Ryan with an urgency he immediately recognized. They hurried out of the room, leaving Cunningham in the care of Officer Shaw, who looked like she wouldn’t mind a few minutes alone with the guy.

  “What is it?” Ryan asked when they were safely alone.

  “I believe him,” Jessie told him. “And if he didn’t kill Garland, that almost certainly means the person who did wasn’t there by chance. It means someone followed him there, stalked him, hunted him. The killer used Priscilla Barton’s murder as a cover to kill Garland, knowing everyone would assume they were committed by the same person.”

  “You can’t know that for sure,” Ryan protested. “It was a murder scene. Maybe some curious local snuck in to check it out and panicked when Garland walked in on him.”

  “Maybe, but I don’t think so. Don’t forget that just this afternoon, you were attacked and almost killed right after we found Kelly Martindale’s body.”

  “Believe me, I remember, Jessie.”

  “Okay. We know that couldn’t have been Cunningham. He fled the scene in pajamas and there was no way he could have changed into black clothes and a ski mask in the intervening time. Besides, you said your attacker was stronger than you. Cunningham clearly isn’t.”

  She saw Ryan started to connect the dots of the picture she was drawing.

  “What’s your point?” he asked.

  “I think the same person who used Priscilla Barton’s murder as cover to kill Garland tried to do the same thing with you. I think he was following you and took advantage of the chaos in the aftermath of the Martindale murder to go after you. I think he did these things so that I wouldn’t catch on to the pattern.”

  Ryan clearly knew the answer but asked anyway.

  “What pattern?”

  “The pattern of going after the people closest to me. This has Kyle’s fingerprints all over it.”

  “But didn’t Dolan say his people never lost sight of Kyle? There’s no way he could be in a Claremont library studying finance and here trying to kill me.”

  “Dolan’s people missed something. I don’t know how but they did. Kyle’s been planning this for two years. I’m sure he anticipated having an FBI tail. Even if it wasn’t him on Tuesday night or this afternoon, that doesn’t mean he didn’t mastermind the thing, get one of the cartel heavies to kill Garland and come after you.”

  Ryan didn’t argue with her. She could tell that he was coming around.

  “Then let’s go get him,” he said. “Call Dolan and get his address in Claremont.”

  Jessie was about to do exactly that when she suddenly gasped as the real truth of the situation hit her.

  “What?” Ryan demanded, concerned.

  “He’s not in Claremont. He’s been going after the people closest to me. He killed Garland. He tried to kill you. There’s only one person left.”

  She was already running to the car as Ryan muttered the name to himself.

  “Hannah.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

  “I’m telling you, I’m fine.”

  Hannah repeated it for the third time, trying to keep from sounding annoyed at her big sister.

  “Put Officer Nettles on again,” Jessie demanded.

  Hannah rolled her eyes as she handed the phone to him.

  “Jessie,” Nettles said calmly, “Beatty and I have been here all night. No one has entered the condo. We just did another search of the building and the floor. We have another car out front and they haven’t seen anything unusual either.”

  Hannah could hear her sister’s raised voice through the phone.

  “You guys will stay put until we get back, right? We’re only fifteen minutes away.”

  “I promise we’re not going anywhere,” Nettles assured her.

  “Kyle Voss is smart,” Jessie barked loudly. “Don’t let your guard down.”

  “We won’t.”

  Jessie hung up and Nettles gave Hannah back her phone, smiling sympathetically.

  “She can be a little intense at times,” he said.

  “That’s an understatement,” she agreed. “But she’s just trying to keep me safe. And from what I’ve heard, her ex-husband is a stone cold psycho. So I’m inclined to cut her some slack.”

  “She’s usually spot on,” Nettles said, “so me too. This isn’t the first time we’ve been at this building protecting her from a killer. She doesn’t tend to cry wolf. In any case, Beatty will be downstairs and I’ll be right outside if you need me, okay?”

  “Thanks.”

  “And remember the confirmation code,” he added. “Don’t answer the door unless you get two knocks, a pause, and then two more knocks. Ask who it is, even if you see me or Beatty through the peephole. If I don’t answer ‘not the pizza guy,’ you don’t open up. Got it?”

  “You’ve told me this three times, Officer Nettles.”

  “I’m just being thorough,” he replied. “I don’t want your sister to kick my ass.”

  Once he’d stepped outside, Hannah sat on the couch and allowed herself a moment to breathe. She closed her eyes and tried to think of something pleasant, like leaves falling gently from a tree in a cool forest. But it was no good. Her eyes popped back open.

  Even though Nettles and Beatty had done multiple searches, as had the other officer before them, she still felt skittish. She resigned herself to the fact that she wouldn’t get a wink of sleep until Jessie and Ryan returned. Considering that was supposed to be in less than fifteen minutes, she turned on the TV and fixed her attention on whether Sophia was going to tease Blanche for telling another anecdote about one of her sexual conquests.

  *

  They parked right in front of the building.

  Jessie ran inside while Ryan reconfirmed with the unit across the street that they’d seen nothing unusual all night. By the time he got to the lobby, Jessie and Officer Beatty were already at the elevator waiting to go up.

  They found Officer Nettles right where he said he’d be, just outside the condo door. He gave the official knock and code phrase and Hannah opened the door to let them all in. Jessie could tell that despite her pretense of nonchalance, her sister was relieved to see them.

  “Thanks so much, guys,” Jessie said to the officers once they got settled. “We’ve got it from here. Y’all can head out for the night.”

  Nettles, the grizzled, graying senior officer, and Beatty, the fresh-faced youngster with curly blond hair who joined the LAPD the same month that Jessie started consulting for it, exchanged glances.

  “That’s okay,” Nettles said. “Jimmy and I talked about it and we’re going to stick around if that’s okay with you. We’ll send the other unit home but one of us will stay in the car and the other in the lobby. We can be up here
in two minutes if you call.”

  “That’s not neces…” Jessie began before Ryan cut her off.

  “Thanks, guys,” he said, giving her a disapproving glare. “We really appreciate it. Make sure to keep the receipts for any snacks you get. They’re on me.”

  They nodded and headed out. Once they left, Jessie looked at Ryan quizzically.

  “Don’t you think they deserve a break after being here all night?” she asked him.

  “Jessie, those guys have been off the clock since seven p.m. Tom Nettles and Jim Beatty volunteered for this duty because they care about you. Remember, they were both here guarding this place when your life was at risk. If they say they want to stick around, just say thank you.”

  Jessie nodded, chastened, and moved to lock the front door and checked that the windows were closed and locked too. Then she turned on the security system. When all that was done, she finally sat down next to Hannah.

  “How are you?” she asked.

  “Oh, you know, I’ve been better.”

  “I hear you. Sorry we were out for so long.”

  “That’s okay,” Hannah replied. “Did you get the guy?”

  “Kind of. We caught the guy who killed the two women. But I don’t think he was responsible for Garland’s death.”

  Hannah didn’t look shocked.

  “You think that was your ex-husband?”

  “I do,” Jessie confirmed. “I also think he tried to kill Ryan this afternoon. That’s why we were in such a rush to get back. You seemed to be the next logical choice.”

  “Why?” Hannah asked.

  “Because he’s going after the people I love,” Jessie said, as if the reason was as clear as day. There was a long pause during which both of them processed the words that had just been said.

  “Oh,” Hannah finally replied, clearly at a loss for a moment. When she regrouped, she changed the subject. “But can’t you just have him arrested?”