Page 45 of The Perfect Illusion
“Did you know that Thompson is Rachel’s maiden name?” he asked, looking at Jamil’s text.
“No. Why?”
“Her married name was Calloway,” Jessie explained. “For nine years, she was married to a man named James Calloway. I guess he’s a big-time film producer. Does that name mean anything to you?”
For the first time, Jessie saw Victoria Sterling’s façade of cool professionalism crack. Her jaw dropped open.
“James is a client of mine,” she said, sounding stunned at her own words. “He’s one of my great success stories. I paired him with a young actress named Amanda. They just got married six months ago.”
“We’re going to need his address,” Jessie said.
“Why?” Sterling asked. “You really think my assistant killed two people?”
"Potentially three," Jessie told her. "Another woman was murdered just this afternoon around the time Rachel was at the doctor.'"
“Who?” Sterling asked in a hushed voice.
“Caroline Walters,” Brady told her.
“Oh no,” Sterling said, putting her hands over her mouth. “Carrie is the sweetest girl I’ve met since doing this. Are you sure?”
“We are,” Jessie told her. “Please get us Calloway’s address now. And while you’re at it, we’ll need Rachel’s too—ASAP!”
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
Jessie checked her gun holster for the third time.
The drive from Victoria Sterling’s Westwood office to the Calloway home in tony Westgate Heights only took seven minutes but Jessie was champing at the bit the whole time. She’d insisted that they be the ones to go there, as the risk to Amanda Calloway was their top priority. Brady had ordered a squad car to go to Thompson’s apartment in case she’d gone there instead.
“You don’t think now that Thompson knows we’re close, she maybe went straight home to grab a bag and then bailed?” Brady asked as they pulled onto Calloway’s street.
Jessie shook her head.
“I think that all these other murders were just prelude to the main event,” she said. “She’s been gearing herself up to take out Amanda, the woman who replaced her. And now that she feels the pressure, that’s only going to make her more focused on finishing her mission.”
Brady pulled up in front of the giant plantation-style mansion, which was partially hidden from the street by enormous hedges. An ornate wrought iron fence protected the property, but the entry gate was slightly ajar. Across the street, Jessie noticed the black Mercedes that Jamil had told them Rachel Thompson Calloway drove. They were in the right place.
“Let’s get in there,” Jessie said, hopping out of the passenger seat. “And remember, Thompson used to live in this house, so she’ll know it well. Stay alert.”
As they passed through the open gate, Jessie noticed a numbered panel just to the right of it. Was it really possible that after the divorce, James Calloway didn’t think to change the code? When they reached the front door, they saw that it was already open too. Both of them unholstered their weapons. Brady counted to three, then pushed it open. He stepped inside, and Jessie followed quickly after him.
Three different hallways split off from the grand foyer. The two of them looked at each other. Jessie could see that her partner was as uncertain as she was. Which way should they go? The unspoken question was answered a moment later when a weak, plaintive voice broke the silence.
“Please stop!”
It sounded like it was coming from the central hallway. They both dashed in that direction. Brady, who was in front of her, was making quite a racket as his heavy footfalls landed on the hardwood floor. Jessie worried that he might tip off Thompson, but right now, getting to her was more important than being stealthy.
They emerged into a massive living room with vaulted ceilings. At the far end of the room, they saw a young woman in a high-backed leather chair. She was wearing yoga gear and had long brown hair that cascaded over her shoulders down to her elbows. But that wasn’t what caught Jessie’s eye.
The woman was tied to the chair with what looked like bungee cords wrapped around her arms and legs. She was also bleeding—profusely. She was still alive, but apparently only because she'd been stabbed in areas that didn't immediately lead to death.
Blood was seeping through her yoga top on the right side of her waist. Her left upper arm, just below the shoulder, had a deep gash. So did her right thigh. And both cheeks had cuts running from near her ears almost to her mouth. Her eyes were cloudy and unfocused, likely from the loss of blood.
Standing a couple of feet from her, tightly gripping what looked like a hunting knife, was Rachel Thompson. Only instead of what she'd worn at the Elite Introductions office, she was now dressed all in black. She was wearing gloves but no mask. Apparently, she wanted Amanda to know who was doing this to her. She must not have heard them arrive because her back was to them. But she seemed to sense eyes on her and spun around. She didn't look surprised to see them.
“Took you long enough,” she said. “But you’re too late. This stuck pig has been bleeding out for ten minutes now. I doubt she has that much time left before she fades away. Or I could end things quick for her.”
Next to Jessie, Brady quickly raised his gun and pointed it at Thompson.
