Page 59 of The Perfect Betrayal

She definitely understood Monica Silver. Riddell was spot on with his analysis of her, but he hadn’t gone deep enough. Monica hadn’t “just” snapped. Over time, she’d built up a cauldron of hate that simmered and eventually boiled over. She didn’t just want justice for her sister. She wanted to see those who’d hurt her suffer the way she had.

Jessie knew the feeling the well. It had consumed her for the last several months. Her ability to settle for bringing wrongdoers to justice rather than seeking vengeance against them had atrophied to the point that she no longer trusted herself. She truly wondered if, had she been alone with Joel Cisco on that boat, she might have used the knife herself.

One thing she knew for sure—if Monica Silver would have gone a different route, and slit the man’s throat, she wouldn’t have lifted a finger to stop her. Was that any different than killing him herself? It was just luck that she didn’t have to answer that question.

What would happen next time she was in a situation with a perpetrator that she had passed judgment on? She knew she couldn’t count on that medication. She wouldn’t be taking it again. It prevented her from catching those very perpetrators.

So, what recourse did she have to prevent herself from giving in to the darkness? She no longer trusted her self-control when these urges rose up inside her. Therapy didn't seem to be working. Medication wasn't an option. She couldn't go to a rehab facility without being outed.

What was left?

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

Kat followed all of her evasion tactics.

She had to be especially cautious this morning, because she wasn't going to her new office, the one that Ash Pierce knew nothing about. She'd set up a P.O. box as a forwarding address for her business mail. The mail from that box was then forwarded to a second P.O. box, where she was currently collecting it.

She'd been slightly apprehensive about even showing up in person for this, but there had to be a point where she felt she'd taken enough precautions. And taking two different rideshares and one taxi to a flea market and then a metro station before coming to this hole-in-the-wall postal center felt like enough.

Still, she walked around the block once before entering, making sure to watch for any tails. When she entered the place and moved to the back where the mailboxes were, she kept an eye on the large mirror by the entrance, in case anyone came in. No one did.

She opened her box and removed the mail. There wasn't much. That was a good sign. The bulk of her correspondence was now coming to the new office. She hoped that soon, the stuff coming here would turn into a trickle, and she could just stop by once a month or so.

She flipped through the envelopes. Most of the items were easy to identify without even opening them. There were three pieces of junk mail solicitations, one bill that had been sent out before the office address change, and what she knew to be a check from an elderly client who didn’t trust “electronic banking.” Then she came to the last one.

It was a postcard. The front of it showed a man playing jai alai. Kat’s mouth went dry at the sight of it. Jai alai was once ahugely popular sport in Tijuana. For a long time, she just stared at the image.

Finally, she ordered herself to flip the card over. The address of her old office was written on one side. On the other side were two sentences:

Been missing you.

Be seeing you.

There was no signature. None was necessary.

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

Hannah was stalling.

It was 8:55 A.M. and she was standing outside the main entrance to the building where her 9 A.M. class was about to start. But it was such a gorgeous morning, with the sun shining and the cool breeze stoking goosebumps on her skin, that she didn’t feel like going into a drab classroom just yet.

“Aren’t you worried that you’re going to be late?” a familiar voice asked from behind her.

She turned around to find Dallas Henry standing there. Unlike at the café yesterday, when he wore that goofy ensemble of a collared shirt and slacks, he was back to dressing normally this morning. He had on jeans and a t-shirt that read “Don’t F#*k with Mr. Zero.”

“I know that line,” she said with a laugh, pointing at the shirt.

“You do?” Dallas said, looking surprised. “Where from?”

“It’s from the movieWhen Harry Met Sally…” she said. “You didn’t know that?”

“No,” he admitted. “I just found it in a thrift shop and thought it was funny. How do you know that movie? Isn’t it super old?”

“Yeah,” she said, “but my older sister loves it. And she’s made me watch it so many times that now I love it too.”

“Hmm,” Dallas said, “maybe I should check it out to find out what all the fuss is about.”

“You should,” she told him. “It’s got some interesting ideas.”

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