Page 18 of The Perfect Illusion

“I would have thought that between you and Brady, you’d have closed this case already,” he teased, squeezing her hip to let her know he was messing with her.

“We had a pretty good suspect there for a while,” Jessie told him, unfazed by the playful dig. “He was a pageant coordinator with a record of harassment. But he has an ironclad alibi. So first thing tomorrow, we’re going to go through the victim’s other contacts. Jamil and Beth have reams of names for us, maybe too many.”

“I’m happy to help once Nettles and I wrap up tomorrow,” he offered.

“I’ll let Brady know that,” she said. “I’m sure he’d be happy to have you on board.”

“That is if he doesn’t consider three to be a crowd,” Ryan said, though neither of them thought he’d object.

“Speaking of three being a crowd, I’m going to head to my bedroom,” Kat said. “Could I please hitch a ride with someone tomorrow morning?”

“I’ll take you in,” Ryan said. “Where am I dropping you this time—street market, train station, mall?”

“Let’s play it by ear,” Kat told him as she headed down the hallway. “It’s more exciting that way.”

After she closed the door, Ryan turned to Jessie.

“You want to change into your jammies?” he asked. “I’d be happy to accompany you.”

“That would be lovely,” she said as he took her hand and led her back to their room. Maybe this would be their romantic moment.

She hadn’t expected one, with the tension that had been hovering over them of late. There was the ongoing issue of whether they would have a child, whether via birth or adoption. It was already on the back burner even before Ryan had put a formal pause on the process.

He’d initially been the one pushing for them to become parents, but of late his attitude had changed. He’d told her flat out that until she got a handle on the churning ball of rage inside her—the one that seemed on the verge of exploding any time she encountered a truly objectionable perpetrator—he wasn’t comfortable bringing a child into their lives.

Some small part of her was relieved that it wasn’t a constant discussion point for them. But that was overwhelmed by the shame she felt at knowing that her life partner didn’t think she was a safe person for a child to be around. But in this moment, when Ryan was tenderly holding her hand as they stepped into the bedroom, she decided to push her concerns to the mental back burner.

She moved into the closet to pick her jammies for the night and was just sliding off her shoes when a thought occurred to her: she was supposed to check out the pendant necklace in Mark Haddonfield’s box of personal effects to see if it might actually be a thumb drive like the one Marcus Sullivan used.

But doing that would upset the mood, and she wasn’t sure the next time one might come around. Haddonfield would have to wait. Instead of jammies, Jessie grabbed a slinky satin nightgown she thought better fit the occasion. She was just sliding her pants off when her phone rang. She glanced at it and groaned.

“Who is it?” Ryan asked from the bedroom.

“Brady,” she told him.

“I thought you guys weren’t picking up again until tomorrow.”

“We weren’t. That’s what worries me. He wouldn’t call unless it was important,” she said as she answered the call. “What’s up Brady?”

“Sorry to bug you at this hour,” he said. “but there’s been another murder and it looks connected to the Hollinger killing. I was going to head there now. Are you able to meet me?”

“Of course,” Jessie said with a sigh she tried to hide. “Send me the address and I’ll be there ASAP.”

She hung up, then proceeded to pull her pants back up again.

“Rain check?” she asked of Ryan, who was now standing in the closet doorway with a hangdog expression.

“Absolutely,” he said, forcing a smile onto his face. “Looking forward to it.”

Jessie was too. In the meantime, she turned her attention from the potential merging of bodies to the investigation into a dead one.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Jessie made good time.

It was 11:19 P.M. and at this late hour travelling from Mid-Wilshire to Cheviot Hills only took less than fifteen minutes. Brady was already waiting for her outside the mega-mansion. Unlike her, he hadn’t made the effort to change back into his work clothes. He had on jeans, a Chico State University sweatshirt, and sneakers.

“What do we know so far?” she asked when she joined him.

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