Page 65 of The Perfect People

“Did I hear you mention Andy Gelman?” Ryan said, coming back over.

“Okay, what is the deal with this guy?” Hannah said. “You guys both look super serious all of a sudden.”

Jessie looked at Ryan, unsure how forthright to be, then decided that there was no point in keeping this story from Hannah. She’d heard worse. Hell, she’d been through worse.

“Do you remember eighteen months ago, when we investigated the case of that escort who was killing johns?” Jessie said. “Well, Andy was going to be one of her victims. But he wasn’t actually a john. He was just a sweet guy in his mid-twenties who also happened to be a multi-millionaire app designer. He was in a bar with his friends one night and met this beautiful girl. He thought they hit it off and she went back to his place. But it turned out that she intended to kill him. She drugged him and was about to slice his throat with a shard of glass from a broken tumbler. Luckily, we got there just in time to stop her and convinced her to let him go.”

Jessie stopped talking and Ryan picked up the story but as he spoke she was only half-listening.

“The whole experience really did a number on him,” Ryan said. “He ended up getting a villa in the south of France and sort of checked out of the daily grind completely. I thought he was still there.”

“So did I,” Jessie said, pulling out her phone and calling Jamil. “I think everyone did.”

“It’s only been a few minutes,” Jamil said when he answered the phone. “I haven’t forgotten the survivors’ meeting.”

“When you were reaching out to potential future victims of the Clone Killer,” she asked, ignoring his comment and putting him on speaker, “did you include Andy Gelman on the list?”

After a moment of stunned silence, he responded.

“No. We only contacted locals and he’s living in France.”

“Apparently not anymore,” Jessie said. “According to Hannah, he’s living in a beach house not far from our current location. Can you do a search to see if he’s purchased or renting anything nearby?”

“Hold on,” Jamil said, typing furiously. It took less than fifteen seconds for him to come back on the line. “He moved back here two weeks ago. He bought a beach house just over the border from Santa Monica in Malibu. I’m texting you the address now.”

When it arrived, Ryan pulled it up on the map on his phone.

“That’s less than a quarter of a mile from here,” he said. “I think we should stop by and check in on him.”

Jessie nodded, already heading for the car. She looked back at her sister, who was staring at her with a stunned but unsurprised expression on her face.

“I’m sorry, but it looks like you’re going to be hanging out with your friends a little bit longer.”

“I figured,” Hannah said.

Jessie turned to Ryan and, filled with a combination of anticipation and dread, said, “Let’s hurry.”

EPILOGUE

Mark Haddonfield was furious with himself.

As he sat on his bed in his tiny apartment, he turned the events of the weekend over in his mind for the hundredth time.

The Andy Gelman murder had gone perfectly, just like all the others had, just like The Strategy had dictated. He had used a long shard of glass to slice the man’s neck open, just as the prostitute, Alexis Cutter, would have done if Jessie hadn’t talked her down. He had left a yellow highlighter by the body as a calling card, more proof that he was now the teacher and Jessie was the student. Eventually she would make that connection.

If he had just left it at that, everything would have been fine. But then he had to go and talk to Hannah Dorsey afterwards.

In retrospect, it was a mistake to engage with her at all. At first, it seemed like a happy coincidence that she was staying within walking distance of Gelman’s beach house. And he had told himself that it was actually an unexpected blessing that he would get to watch her this weekend, to learn details about her that could be used later against her sister. He could determine just how much losing Hannah would hurt Jessie.

But then he’d lost sight of the plan. He’d become smitten with Hannah Dorsey. He’d gotten overwhelmed by her beauty and her charm and her tough “don’t give a damn” spirit. Somehow, despite seeing her making out with another guy—anartistno less—he’d convinced himself that he could win her over, that she would somehow see that they were connected to each other and meant to be together.

Instead, she’d not only rejected him, but humiliated him and even injured him, forcing him to hobble away into the night. He’d been defeated by a teenage girl who didn’t even know what she was up against until seconds before the threat revealed itself. It was shameful. And it would not stand.

He hadn’t just lost sight of the plan. For a while there, he’d lost his way entirely. He’d allowed himself to think that he could let her live, that there might be a fairy tale ending for her instead of a box in the dirt.

“I won’t be tempted again,” he whispered quietly to himself.

He wouldn’t be tempted again. It was clear to him what had to happen now. He hadn’t been certain before because the evidence wasn’t all in. But now it was overwhelming. And now The Strategy would play out without any pitstops for silly romanticism.

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