Page 21 of The Perfect Poise

Jessie had hoped that Parker’s supervisory intensity would dissipate once she got more comfortable in the job, but so far that hadn’t happened. That created constant tension with those who were used to a more relaxed person in charge. Ryan chafed against it most intensely, but Jessie wasn’t immune. And she knew that at least some of the other members of HSS felt similarly.

“You can go in now,” Officer George said, snapping Jessie out of her thoughts.

They stepped into the office, which had undergone a complete, and to Jessie's eye, welcome redesign. The walls, which had until recently been covered in forty-year-old peeling wallpaper, had been re-painted. The hard-backed metal chairs for visitors had been replaced with cushioned ones, and the ratty couch along the back wall was gone in favor of a new, plush replacement. Jessie continued to hope that eventually Parker would settle into being captain—as nicely as the physical office had adjusted to the change—and cut them some slack. But the second the captain spoke, Jessie knew that day wouldn’t be today.

“I checked in with your Research team while you two were out and about,” she said, motioning for them to take seats across from her desk. “Unless something has changed in the last ten minutes, I assume we’re still treading water in the Chloe Baptiste case?”

“For the most part, yes,” Ryan conceded, keeping any annoyance he felt out of his voice for now. “We’re still checking into the finances of Baptiste’s husband, Laurent. They’re complicated, but we haven’t eliminated the possibility that he hired someone to take his wife out. Still, at this point, I’d call that a longshot.”

Jessie jumped in to put a more positive spin on the situation.

“We asked Jamil to play out that string, just in case,” she said. “But if he doesn’t find a smoking gun in the next few hours, we’ll have him switch over to Chloe’s personal finances. She has a few accounts independent of his, but they’re hard to access.”

“Why can’t Ryerson do that?” Parker asked.

“In theory, she could,” Jessie agreed, “although Jamil usually handles the financial deep dives. That’s one of his gifts. Besides, Beth is still tracking possible personal connections with Chloe that might pop as being acrimonious. It’s all moot for now anyway. We’re waiting on a court order to access her accounts since not even Laurent can grant that to us.”

Parker sighed as she leaned back in her chair. Jessie sensed what was coming and dreaded it.

“I know you don’t want to hear this,” the captain said, her own voice rough with exhaustion and frustration, “but the pressure from on high is building. Our old captain and current police chief is really feeling the heat from the media. It used to be his job to protect you from that scrutiny, and I guess that, at least in theory, that’s my job now.”

“Thanks, Captain,” Ryan said even though he knew as well as Jessie that Parker wasn’t done.

“But,” Parker continued, undeterred, “I don’t really see the point of that mindset. You’re already well aware that this is a huge story locally, and maybe beyond. I’m not going to pretend that any of us are shielded from that knowledge. It’s my belief that we’re all better off when we steer into the skid rather than try to avoid it.”

“So what’s the skid?” Ryan asked, an undesirable edge in his voice.

“The skid is Chief Decker,” she answered, unfazed by his tone. “I got my second call from him this morning just fifteen minutes ago. I had to tell him we didn’t have anything new. He asked what you guys were pursuing. I said I’d check in with you and get back to him ASAP, as in, steer into the skid. He seems to think you’re miracle workers. So tell me, do you see any miracles on the horizon?”

As she processed the question, Jessie felt her own frustration and fatigue getting the best of her. She could see that Ryan felt the same way. He looked like his next remark might cross the line from edgy to insubordinate.

She wanted to stop him but simultaneously felt herself itching to react the same way. She knew HSS’s mission was often to manage the highest profile cases involving the best known and wealthiest people in Los Angeles.

But in this moment, she couldn’t overcome her anger that the richest, most famous denizens of this town got so much attention at the expense of the downtrodden, those without loved ones, or just everyday, middle-class folks. She’d signed on for this gig, but occasionally she hated it.

Maybe that was because she’d experienced this sort of thing personally. She thought back to her mother, Madeline Thurman, who was murdered by her father right in front of her when she was just six years old. The story had gotten some tabloid attention when it was revealed that Jessie was left alone with her mother’s body, tied up in an isolated, snowy Ozark Mountains cabin for three days until hunters happened to find her.

But then interest waned, at least until it was revealed that Jessie’s father, Xander Thurman, was the notorious serial killer known as the Ozarks Executioner. Even then, it was his name that lingered in the public consciousness. No one, save for Jessie, remembered Maddie Thurman.

She felt an angry response to the question about forthcoming miracles rising in her throat and feared she could no longer shut it down. She opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, the intercom buzzed.

“Captain,” Officer George said, “I’m sorry to bother you but you have a call.”

“I’m in a meeting, Shaniqua,” Parker said, irritated.

“You’re going to want to take this,” George said ominously.

The captain picked up the phone immediately.

“This is Parker,” she said gruffly.

She listened silently for several seconds. Jessie watched as her expression quickly morphed from exasperated to horrified to resigned.

“I see,” she said. “We’re on it.”

She hung up and looked at them across the desk. Jessie knew what was coming before a word was spoken.

“There’s been another murder,” she said. “This time in Beverly Grove. They think it’s connected to Baptiste.”

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