CHAPTER FIVE
Jessie wanted to tell the guy to pick up the pace but forced down the urge.
As she and Susannah sat in the Central Station research department along with Jamil and Beth, they all listened on speakerphone as Kelvin Soto, the medical examiner, told them what he knew so far. He was taking his sweet time getting to the point. She knew it was the combination of impatience and hunger that was gnawing at her. It was almost 2 P.M. and she hadn’t had a break in hours—or lunch.
“As always, I have to caveat all this by saying that these are preliminary results,” Soto said carefully, “but in this instance, I feel fairly comfortable with the conclusions.”
“What are those conclusions?” Jessie heard herself blurt out, despite her promise to herself that she wouldn’t. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. When Soto replied, there was a hint of wounded feelings in his tone.
“We believe the approximate time of death was between 9 P.M. and 2 A.M.,” he said, regaining his confidence as he went on. “My initial suspicion was also corroborated. When we removed the masks, we found that both victims had suffered serious blows to the front of the head. That’s what was making the masks sit off-kilter on their faces. But that’s not what killed them?”
“Why do you say that?” Susannah asked.
“We’re confident that in both cases, the blows knocked them into unconsciousness,” Soto explained, “but we believe that they both lived several minutes longer. That’s because of the pillow.”
“The pillow?” Jessie repeated, doing her best to rein in the frustration that had gotten the better of her earlier.
“Yes,” Soto said quickly, “we suspect that the victims were both suffocated using one of their pillows. We found saliva residue in the middle of one of them, where the head would normally rest. It was still slightly damp. We’re checking to see if it has both of their DNA. If so, that would strongly suggest that this was the ultimate murder weapon for both of them. All things considered, it’s a pretty humane way to go.”
Jessie felt her simmering frustration bubble up into something closer to outright anger.
“Humane?” she challenged, “How humane do you think it was for them when they found an intruder in their bedroom who bashed in both their heads?”
Jessie knew that Soto hadn’t intended to imply that the experience had been pleasant for the Hartleys, but she simply couldn’t contain the irritation she felt. She suspected that she was at least partly frustrated by things beyond this case, but Soto was getting the brunt of it, justified or not. She was debating whether to apologize when Susannah spoke up.
“Do you have anything else for us at this time?” she asked the doctor.
“No,” he said curtly.
“Okay, well, please update us when you get those DNA results,” she told him. “Thanks for your help.”
Then she hung up and turned to Jessie.
“You know,” she said carefully, “I’m usually the one that puts people on blast and leaves them scurrying for the exits. I can’t help but feel like you’re trying to steal my specialty. Everything okay?”
Jessie glanced over at the two researchers who were both slack-jawed, not used to hearing her blow up like that.
“I’m good,” she said guardedly, before adding. “I think I just need to stretch my legs. Care to join me?”
Susannah got the hint and nodded.
“We’ll be back in a few,” she told Jamil and Beth. “Let us know if you discover anything new.”
Jessie and Susannah left research and walked silently down the long station hallway to the door leading to an interior courtyard. Once outside, they walked over to lone unoccupied bench, which rested in the center of the courtyard under a large tree. They hadn’t even sat down before Susannah asked the question she’d clearly been itching to pose this whole time.
“What is going on with you?”
Jessie sighed, partly out of the accumulation of frustration, but also to give herself time. She obviously couldn’t tell Susannah the main reason that she was riddled with anxiety. One couldn’t simply share with an LAPD detective, even a friend, that she had an intermittent compulsion to violently assault some of the people they hunted down, and that she’s already acted on it. So she focused on other answers that might prove compelling.
“I think that with everything going on, my fuse is super short, and I’ve lost the ability to snuff it out.”
“Are you talking about Ryan’s poisoning?” Susanah asked. “I know his recovery has been slow.”
“That’s part of it, for sure,” Jessie acknowledged, “but it’s not everything. I’m sure you’re keeping up with the Mark Haddonfield trial.”
“Who isn’t?”
“Well, Ryan hasn’t been because he’s been sedated a lot of the time to control the pain as he recovers,” she explained, “so I’ve been tracking it on my own. And let me tell you—waiting to find out if the guy who killed multiple people that I previously saved and then tried to kill me is going to prison for life has been, to put it mildly, anxiety-inducing.”
“But you know that he’s going to be convicted, right?” Susannah said reassuringly. “My understanding is that they didn’t even need you or Ryan to testify.”
“That’s true,” Jessie conceded. “They determined that the testimony of Dr. Janice Lemmon, who was in the hospital room when Haddonfield attacked me, was enough, especially with all the other physical evidence. But you never know until the verdict comes in.”
“I get it,” Susannah said.
“And on top of that, you know my friend, Kat, right?”
“Of course.”
“Well, I’m worried about her. She’s going through a similar situation with the Ash Pierce case, only she’s doing it while dealing with her fiancé’s murder. It’s a lot. Between all of those things, I guess I’ve just lost some of my ability to self-regulate.”
Susannah nodded and squeezed her hand while doing something that Jessie rarely saw from her. She stayed quiet.
Jessie felt bad. Everything she was saying was true, but it wasn’t the whole truth. The fact was that none of the concerns that she’d mentioned weighed on her like the bloodlust she felt. And she’d completely neglected to mention the ongoing uncertainty that she and Ryan were dealing with when it came to potential adoption.
“Listen,” Susannah finally said. “I’m the last person who would ever tell you to hold back. You know that’s not my thing. I know that I’ve mellowed out some since I started seeing Drake. And not even dating a grizzled surfer cop is enough to chill me out all the time. But I’m here to tell you that if you ever feel like it’s too much for you, just give me the high sign. I’ll cut into whoever we’re dealing so you don’t have to. Everyone expects it from me, so it won’t come as a surprise, and you can experience the vicarious thrill of going after someone without the dirty looks. Personally, I relish the dirty looks.”
“Thanks, Susannah,” Jessie said, deciding it was time to end the pity fest, “I really appreciate that, especially coming from a skanky malcontent like yourself.”
Susannah laughed.
“I’ll let you have that one,” she said, standing up. “What do you say we get back to it? By my count, we’ve got over a hundred close contacts of the Hartleys that we need to work our way through. Maybe one of them got hosed in a real estate deal with Richard Hartley, owns a collection of masquerade ball masks, and has a criminal record.”
“Wouldn’t that be nice?” Jessie said, following Susannah back inside. “Maybe they’ll own an ice cream shop too and we can question them over a cone of mint chocolate chip.”
“Sounds yummy,” Susannah said with a grin.
Though Jessie didn’t say it, she was skeptical. If someone had that many touch points with the Hartleys, Jamil would have found them already. The likelihood was that they’d be spending all afternoon poring over minutiae about everyone the Hartleys knew, hoping for some scrap that might lead to a credible suspect.
As daunting as that sounded, Jessie was almost looking forward to it. At the very least, it would allow her to focus her attention on something other than the parade of horribles that had made her so unpleasant to be around. And if it landed them a quality suspect along the way, all the better.