Page 43 of The Perfect Appearance

“Sorry Captain,” Susannah Valentine told him. “The most recent sighting of him is still walking out the front door of his housing complex that day. As you are well aware, he limped to a residential street without any camera coverage. We don’t know if he had a car waiting there, if he got a cab using cash, got a rideshare using an alternate ID, or caught a bus. He could have stashed some kind of disguise along that route without us knowing.”

“What we know for sure is that no form of payment with his name on it has popped anywhere in the system since then,” Sam Goodwin had added. “We still think he’s using cash since it would be hard for an inexperienced, twenty-one-year-old college student to secure decent false identification. Plus, we show him removing cash from his checking account for multiple days leading up to his disappearance, totaling over $3000. Folks in neighboring apartments say he also sold them various small appliances in the leadup to going on the run. We think he’s operating on cash only and frequenting places that are fine with that.”

“Right,” Valentine had agreed. “And there’s no footage of him at any airport, train, bus, or metro station. That doesn’t preclude him buying a junk car and driving out of town. But we don’t find any evidence of that so far. Personally, I think he’s still in L.A. After all, that’s where Jessie is.”

Ryan left that conversation feeling lower than he thought possible. It wasn’t just the lack of progress. It was also the reminder via Susannah Valentine, who would never be called a professional diplomat, that Haddonfield’s strongest reason for staying in town was to harm his wife.

He tried not to blame the detective for inadvertently shoving that reality in his face. If he got upset every time Susannah said or did something indelicate, he'd be mad all the time. Susannah was blunt to a fault and seemingly always ready to confront anyone who had an issue with that.

He understood where the attitude came from. Valentine was a former street officer, which had toughened her up. She was also stunning, withhazel eyes, deeply tanned skin and long, black hair, along with a curvy figure that suggested swimsuit model more than cop. The whistles, catcalls, and aggressive come-ons she got nonstop may have hardened her even more than the criminals she faced down. As a defense mechanism, the detective chose to lean into both her brashness and her looks, wearing form-fitting outfits and daring anyone to judge her for it.

Despite her rough exterior, Ryan was glad to have her on the team. She was a relentless, fearless investigator who would go to any lengths to solve a case. It was that dedication that had helped smooth over some initial conflicts between her and Jessie, who were now surprising friends. That dedication is also what had Ryan concerned. He knew Susannah Valentine wasn’t a slacker. If she was coming up empty in the search for Haddonfield, it meant there wasn’t much to be found.

But at least in his most recent conversation with Jessie, she’d given no indication that she was feeling similarly concerned. Whether it was an act or not, she seemed less focused on Haddonfield and more fixated on helping solve the murder of Gemma Britton and now Isabel Shea. She was apparently working with Jamil and Beth to find connections between the two that, if credible, she could pass along to the detectives in charge.

He wondered why Jessie was being so dogged about this case, to which she wasn't even formally assigned. Was it just out of loyalty to Lemmon, or was there something else at work? Regardless of her motivation, he hoped that she really was as focused on that case as she suggested. If so, she was doing a lot better than him. Ryan could almost physically feel the burden of being pulled in so many different directions.

There was the drive-by shooting. There was Haddonfield. There was the search for Ash Pierce, which the FBI was leading but regularly updating him on. There was the general strain of leading an entire police station, when prior to this, he’d only ever led a unit comprised of seven people. There was the seemingly permanent state of exhaustion.

And then there was his marriage. He was still trying to regain Jessie’s trust after keeping the threat against himself, Hannah, and Kat from her. He was constantly worried that she might suffer another head injury, and that even if she didn’t, the accumulation of past ones might be too much for her. He was concerned that even with those risks, she might—despite promising not to—put herself in harm’s way.

He was also worried about Hannah, who should be enjoying her first week of college but was instead holed up in a house with a bodyguard nearly twice her age as her only companion. He was worried about Kat, who hadn’t really been the same since Pierce tortured her.

As he stopped at the door to the research department, he again wondered if it wouldn’t just be best to offer his resignation as Central Station captain and return to his old gig as head of Homicide Special Section. His responsibilities would be fewer. The bureaucratic work would drop dramatically. If Jessie was able to return to work, he could again partner with her regularly, something he dearly missed.

The strain of the life he’d reluctantly chosen was draining the joy from each day. He was passionate about his work, but he longed for at least an occasional evening sitting on the couch with Jessie, watching a bad movie while sharing a bowl of popcorn. Right now, he wondered if that would ever be possible again.

“Is everything okay, Captain?” Beth Ryerson asked him.

He realized that he’d been standing in the research doorway for about ten seconds, saying nothing, just staring blankly into nothingness.

“I’m fine,” he said quickly. “But I wanted an update on anything related to Haddonfield. Has the facial recognition system caught anything lately? I’d take even a fifty percent match right now.”

Jamil gave him a look that suggested he didn’t approve.

“Captain, a match rate like that would pull in thousands of subjects,” he said. “Anything lower than ninety percent isn’t really worth our time, and even that’s casting an extremely wide net.”

“Don’t you think a wide net is justified in a case like this, Jamil?” he shot back acidly. “Or maybe it’s just not worth the hassle of doing the extra work?”

Jamil, stunned, stared at him, unsure how to respond.

“Captain,” Beth said in a quiet, firm voice, “I don’t think that’s fair. You know how important this case is to everyone here, especially Jamil. He’s been working twenty-hour days for almost a week now.”

As he listened to her, Ryan felt a pit in his stomach, composed primarily of shame. Next to her, Jamil had hung his head like a puppy who’d gotten scolded.

“I’m sorry,” Ryan quickly said. “You’re right. Everyone is giving this their all. I know that. I especially know that this is a priority for you, Jamil. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I guess the stress and lack of sleep is hitting me harder than I thought. I hope you can forgive me.”

“Of course,” Jamil said immediately, raising his head, if only slightly. “I get it. This man is threatening the person you love, and you feel powerless to stop him. That would undo anyone. I’m surprised you haven’t snapped more. Don’t worry about it.”

“Thanks,” Ryan said, though he did worry about it. “I’ll leave you two be. Let me know if you find anything worthwhile. Otherwise, I’ll try to stay out of your hair.”

He left the research department before they could reply. He needed to go where he wasn’t going to make things worse. Right now, the only place he could think of was his office, the captain’s office, the ever-present symbol of the burden he was no longer sure he could bear.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

Ash Pierce knew she had to get out of the bubble bath.

Her skin was pruning badly, and the water was only lukewarm now. But once she got out, she'd have to resume work. She was excited to get back on a mission, but frankly, she was really enjoying the downtime.

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