Page 48 of The Perfect Betrayal

"According to the officer who filed the report," Jamil said, his usually detached voice betraying a hint of emotion, "he told her that without anyone to interview out here or any indication of foul play, there was nothing they could do. He took a photothat Monica gave him for the file but closed the case less than 48 hours later. His notes suggest that she likely left town or that she possibly overdosed, theorizing that perhaps the folks with her when she OD'd dumped the body to avoid questions. But he apparently didn't base those conclusions on actual evidence or ever share them with Monica."

Jessie was quiet for a moment before saying aloud what she suspected was in all their heads.

“One has to wonder if maybe Monica Silver wasn’t satisfied with the answers she got and started poking around on her own. Maybe she unearthed some of the same secrets we’ve recently discovered.”

“Where is Silver living now?” Riddell asked, nodding in agreement with her theory.

“It looks like she established residency here just weeks after reporting her sister’s disappearance. She was working on her master’s in Environmental Science at Loyola Marymount University just up the coast about ten miles from where you are now. She moved around for a while but for the last year she’s lived in a condo in Hermosa Beach. I’m sending you the address, as well as her DMV photo and the picture of her sister from her case file.”

As Jessie waited for the messages to arrive, she noted an anticipatory tingle in her gut. Something about Monica moving here only weeks after her sister went missing felt crucial to everything that was going on. She sensed that they were on the verge of something big.

Jessie's phone pinged, and she quickly opened the attachments in Jamil's texts. She had to blink when she stared at the photos of the two women.

“You said that Monica is the younger sister?” she double-checked.

“Yes,” Jamil assured her, “by three years.”

“They look like they could be twins,” Riddell marveled.

“That might explain the ghost that Oliver Stanton saw,” Jessie said quietly, before squinting at some numbers scrawled below the photo of Heather from the case file. “What are those numbers under Heather’s photo? I can’t read them.”

"It looks like a date," Beth said. "It's a little hard to read, but I think it says4/25/99. I assume it was her birthdate.”

“It was,” Jamil confirmed.

A shot of adrenaline shot through Jessie’s body as the truth fell into place for her.

“April 25th isn’t just Heather’s birthdate,” she said, barely able to get the words out fast enough. “It’s also her birthday. And the first victim, Daran Peterson, was killed four days ago, on April 25th.”

Over the phone, she heard Beth gasp.

“I can’t believe I didn’t pick that up right away,” Jamil muttered.

“She’s been living here for years,” Jessie told them all, “setting everything up in order to start delivering payback on her sister’s birthday. She’s way ahead of us.”

The rest of the group was quiet for a while. It was Riddell who managed to find his voice first.

"Well, maybe we can catch up," he said. "Her place is close."

“Let’s go say hi,” Jessie told him.

CHAPTER THIRTY

It only took six minutes to get from the station to Monica Silver’s Hermosa Beach condo.

Still, Jessie could barely contain herself as her legs bounced up and down in the passenger seat of Riddell’s car. When they pulled up on the street in front of the place, it was 4:30 and the sky was still dark.

The complex, about a half mile inland from the beach, was modest but well-maintained. They entered the vestibule and used the Knox Box to let themselves in. The building was only two stories tall, but Jessie took the elevator and Riddell the stairs so they wouldn’t miss her if she saw them and tried to slip by.

When the elevator doors opened, Jessie found Riddell waiting for her. They walked down to Silver’s unit at the end of the hall. It was facing away from the street, meaning the woman wouldn’t have seen them pull up. That was good news. At least they had the element of surprise.

“Are we announcing ourselves?” Jessie whispered.

“Briefly, before I kick open the door,” Riddell said. “I’m not taking any chances with a three-time murderer.”

Jessie couldn’t argue with his logic. They both unholstered their weapons. Riddell counted down from three with his leg cocked, ready to kick.

“Monica Silver, this is the Los Angeles Sheriff’s department,” he barked. “We’re coming in. Put your hands above your head.”

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