Page 3 of The Perfect Betrayal

"He's getting there," Jessie said. "That dustup with the killer we caught who poisoned him set him back more than he expected. He's on desk duty for the rest of this week. Assuming all goes well, Captain Parker said he can return to the field on Monday."

“That’s great news,” Lemmon said, “but I was thinking more about how things were going between you two, especially in light of the adoption situation.”

Jessie sighed as she tried to think of the best way to explain things. “The adoption situation,” as Lemmon described it, was complicated. A while back, Ryan had expressed his desire to have kids. Jessie had balked, worried about her career, about how her battered body would handle childbirth, and whether she might pass down whatever vengeful gene she seemed to have inherited from her father.

She floated adoption as an alternative, hoping that taking in a child of toddler age or older would still meet Ryan’s needs while not upending her life quite as much as an infant might. But after she’d recently missed an important meeting with an adoption counselor because of a case, he’d put a halt to the process.

“We’re not really discussing it much these days,” she admitted to Lemmon.

“Why is that?”

“He thinks I’m not serious about kids,” Jessie conceded. “And truthfully, I’m not entirely sure that sure I am either. So we’ve set it aside for a while.”

“How’s he taking that?” Lemmon asked.

“Mostly by being quietly resentful.”

“And how are you reacting to that?”

“Mostly by trying not to think about it.”

“That sounds healthy,” Lemmon noted wryly.

“Hannah’s doing really well,” Jessie said, suddenly and quite awkwardly changing the subject to her nineteen-year-old half-sister, Hannah Dorsey, who she’d become the guardian of after the murder of her parents three years ago.

“Okay,” Lemmon replied. “That’s wasn’t the smoothest transition, but clearly you no longer want to talk about your marriage, so I’ll let it go for now. Tell me more about Hannah.”

“There’s not much to tell, which I consider a good thing,” Jessie said. “She’s in her spring quarter at UC Irvine after rocking the fall and winter. She gets along with her roommate. She was kind of, sort of, maybe dating a guy there for a while, but I think she put a pause on that. She’s pretty tight-lipped about it.”

“No recurrences with her?” Lemmon asked.

“Recurrences” was a diplomatic reference to how Hannah, who shared the same serial killer father as Jessie, had gone through her own bout with bloodthirsty desire. In her case, it had escalated to the point where she actually killed a man. Her action had been officially deemed self-defense, but those who’d been there, including Jessie, knew different.

And yet Hannah had managed to get a grip on her urges. She had gone to a treatment facility for several months, where no one recognized her, and had found tools that allowed her to stay in control. Of course, unlike Jessie, she wasn’t exposed tothe worst of humanity on a regular basis, which probably helped. Still, it was an impressive achievement.

“No recurrences,” Jessie answered flatly.

“And Kat is doing well?” Lemmon wondered.

“You would know better than me,” Jessie said of her best friend, private detective Katherine Gentry. “You’re the one treating her.”

“I see her twice a week in a structured environment,” Lemmon pointed out. “You see her every day, in your own home. It’s a slightly more revealing environment.”

It was true. Kat had temporarily moved into Jessie and Ryan’s Mid-Wilshire neighborhood house. They had taken her in after she’d suffered a mini-breakdown, which was lucky to be “mini.” Kat had fallen apart after the hired killer who had kidnapped, tortured, and nearly murdered her escaped from custody right before she was to go on trial.

The killer, a former government assassin named Ash Pierce, was supposedly on the lam in Mexico or points further south. But that was no comfort to Kat, who feared Pierce would sneak back into the country to finish the job she’d started. Jessie didn’t think it was a completely outlandish concern and invited her to stay in Hannah’s old room for a while.

It wasn’t just a gesture. Jessie had dealt with multiple folks—fans, stalkers, and even a few killers—who tried to make things personal. As a result, she had used some of her independent wealth to turn her home into a veritable fortress.

“I can’t speak to how she’s doing emotionally,” Jessie said. “She doesn’t talk a ton about her feelings. I think she feels like she’s putting us out already by living with us and doesn’t want to burden us with the state of her psyche too. I’ve tried to tell her that I’ll talk anytime, but so far she hasn’t taken me up on it.”

“Do you know if she at least feels safe?” Lemmon asked.

“I know that sheissafe,” Jessie answered. “As to whether she feels safe, that’s a question you’d have to ask her, Doc.”

CHAPTER TWO

Jessie had barely pulled out of the parking lot of Lemmon’s building when she got the call.

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