Page 24 of The Perfect Appearance

“I’ll keep my eyes open,” Chris said, “And I’m really sorry. This situation truly sucks.”

Hannah sighed heavily.

“It does,” she agreed, “but I’m trying to be positive about it. This is better than the alternative. Isolating myself like this doesn’t just keep me safer, it also protects the people I love. No one but the bodyguards know where I am. Not Jessie. Not Ryan. Not Kat. So they can’t be used to get to me. Just like with you, there’s no point in her going after them if they can’t help her find me. She’s a cold-blooded professional in that way.”

“You almost sound like you admire her,” Chris noted.

“I can appreciate her ability to turn off her emotions to get a job done,” Hannah corrected. “Sometimes I tend to run a little hot. I wish I had better control over that.”

She didn’t mention that “running hot” was quite a euphemism for committing murder. Just last winter, she’d killed that serial killer who had been hunting her, Jessie and Ryan when he found them in Wildpines. That might have been defensible in theory, but she shot the man, an elderly killer known as the Night Hunter, in the chest after Jessie and Ryan had already subdued him.

At the time, she'd claimed it was so that he couldn't ever threaten them again. But the truth was that she wanted to know what it felt like to kill a person, and a brutal serial killer seemed a safe place to start. That single act led to months of growing bloodlust, where she was tempted to violently punish anyone she deemed a wrongdoer.

Only voluntarily checking into a psychological rehab facility, where she spent weeks under the care of Dr. Lemmon, helped her temper those instincts. But even now, they bubbled to the surface occasionally. It had taken every ounce of restraint not to bash Ash Pierce’s skull in when she got the upper hand on her three months ago.

“But isn’t Pierce coming after you a form of revenge?” Chris asked, pulling her back into the present.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you said that she’s a cold-blooded professional who can turn her emotions off,” he said, “but choosing to come after you—the teenage girl who outsmarted her— rather than just sneak out of the country to safety? That doesn’t sound emotionless. It sounds like someone with a vendetta.”

He made a fair point, but Hannah thought there might be something else at the root of Pierce’s enmity for her.

"You could be right," she conceded. "That might be part of it. But I also think it's about professional honor. She was bested, and she wants her reputation back. That means taking me out."

Chris was quiet for a moment, but Hannah could tell he wanted to say something.

“What is it?” she asked.

“It’s just…that may be a distinction without a difference.”

“The truth is, a little part of me almost hopes she finds me,” Hannah said, more to herself than to Chris.

“What?” he asked disbelievingly.

“If she comes for me directly, then she’s not hurting anyone else,” Hannah tried to explain. "And then, at least, it would be done. Either she kills me, or I find a way to stop her. I'm tired of running. I'm tired of hiding. I'm tired of being scared."

“You’re not being serious,” he pleaded. “You can’t really want her to find you.”

She heard the concern in his voice and realized that what she said must have sounded like some sort of death wish.

“No,” she replied quickly. “It’s just a thought that flashed through my head. Obviously, she'd crush me in seconds. I got lucky last time."

“Please, Hannah,” Chris begged, “promise me you’ll leave all this to the professionals.”

“Of course,” she answered, hoping she sounded convincing. “I’m sure the FBI will find her soon. In the meantime, I’ll play some cards with my bodyguard. Either that or I’ll finally crack open that copy ofAnna KareninaI’ve been meaning to read for the last three years.”

As she said the words, she meant them. But she knew that she wouldn't be able to keep her frustration at bay forever. At some point, she was going to have to take proactive action against Ash Pierce.

As much as she tried to deny it, she knew herself: waiting around wasn’t in her nature.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Stop trying to wriggle free!” Grover barked, making Jessie wince almost as much as Quentin Benes did.

The man, who Grover was pressing against the side of his own car, looked beyond stressed. After getting him upright and giving him the impression that trying to leave might lead to his arrest, they’d managed to prevent him from dashing off again. But Jessie sensed that would only work for so long, so she tried something else.

“Quentin, do you know why we’re here?” she asked, trying to engage him without outright making an accusation.

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