CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
Jessie jogged up the steps of the library, trying to remind herself not to overreact.
Riley Sinclair was almost certainly fine. She was in a secure building. She’d been warned to stay alert, as had the library guards. And since she was a year younger than all the victims so far, she might not even be a target of the killer.
She caught sight of Officer Devery, who was waiting for her at the security checkpoint. He waved her over.
“Hi, Ms. Hunt,” he said, nodding at the guard manning the metal detector. “I’ve already spoken to Mr. Peele. He’s authorized us to pass through and given me directions to the Children’s Literature Department, which Riley Sinclair runs. You ready?”
“I am,” Jessie said.
They passed through a side gate next to the detector, and Devery led the way up the escalator to level two. As she looked up, Jessie could see multiple additional escalators going to higher floors.
Once there, Jessie allowed herself a second to take in the massive atrium at the far end of the hallway.
Suspended from the ceiling were two giant pieces of art that doubled as chandeliers.
They headed back down the corridor in the other direction, which opened into a mammoth rotunda.
Looking up at the ceiling, Jessie marveled at the elaborate stenciled motifs.
The walls were covered with enormous murals.
Off to the right was the Teenscape room, which she assumed housed young adult fiction. The Children’s Literature Department was to the left.
“I know I shouldn’t be excited,” Devery whispered in the echoing rotunda. “But checking on the safety of a possible target of a serial killer is way more interesting than taking a report from a jaywalking dude who got a broken wrist when a car mirror clipped him.”
“I’m actually hoping this isn’t too exciting,” Jessie said. “I’ve had my fill for the day.”
Devery looked a little sheepish at hearing that, but said nothing. She suspected he was wondering if he’d hurt his chances of eventually joining HSS with the comment.
“Don’t worry about it,” she added. “I get where you’re coming from.”
They headed to the Children’s Literature department, passing through the glass and iron-grilled doors before approaching the main desk, where a young man with thick glasses and scruffy blond hair stood, smiling broadly.
“We’re looking for Riley Sinclair,” Jessie whispered. “We’re with the LAPD.”
“Wow,” he said in apparent awe. “She’s been getting a lot of love from you guys all day. I never realized that Riley was such a big deal.”
From his comment, Jessie suspected that the guy didn’t know the reason Sinclair was getting all the attention. Otherwise, he probably wouldn’t have been so giddy.
“Yes,” she said, “where is Riley now?”
“Um, I think she might have gone home,” he said.
“No,” Jessie insisted nervously. “She was supposed to wait for a guard to escort her to her car. And the guy downstairs, Peele, would have told us if that had happened.”
“Hold on,” the librarian said. “Let me check with our senior librarian, Paulette. I was on a break until a few minutes ago, so I might be out of the loop. But she’ll know.”
Jessie tried not to let apprehension get the best of her as he waved to an older woman with gray, purple, and blue hair, who was reading to a group of toddlers seated in a circle on a colorful carpet.
“Hold on one moment, children,” Paulette said to the group. “I’ll be right back. While I’m gone, I want you to think of the question you’d most like to ask Little Nutbrown Hare if you met him.”
Paulette walked over, looking annoyed. When she arrived, her tone was hushed but irritated.
“Jimmy, you know that unless it’s an emergency, we never interrupt Storytime. It’s hard to keep kids this age engaged, especially with interruptions. And I only have ten minutes to finish the book before we close up. What’s the problem?”
Jessie bit her tongue, rather than pointing out that if there was an armed police officer in their workplace, maybe this was an emergency.
“Sorry,” Jimmy said. “But these folks are with the police. They’re looking for Riley. I said I thought she went home. Is that not right?”
“I don’t think so,” Paulette said, perplexed. “She usually handles closing on Thursdays. Besides, she wouldn’t leave without reviewing assignments for tomorrow. That’s standard. I don’t know where she is.”
Jessie felt her anxiety level rise exponentially.
Was it possible that the killer had already slipped into the library somehow?
All the other victims had been murdered in their homes.
But if the killer saw the TV news this afternoon, maybe they determined that time and opportunity were running out and decided to change their M.O.
“We need to find her,” she said urgently, focusing on the librarian who was clearly more experienced. “Paulette, can Jimmy take over for you briefly with the kids? We need you to show us where she might be. Her office, the break room, the nearest restroom.”
“That won’t be necessary,” someone said from behind her.
She turned around to find Riley Sinclair standing there.
The woman, who appeared to be uninjured and annoyed, looked much like the photos Jessie had seen of her.
Her dirty blonde hair was tied in a ponytail.
She wasn’t wearing any makeup. And her clothes—black slacks and a loose-fitting navy top—only partially hid her build, which seemed to be her intention.
She was big-boned but not heavy. In fact, she reminded Jessie a bit of Kat in that way.
Not quite attractive, she was blandly pleasant-looking, although that was currently undermined by the scowl plastered across her face.
“Ms. Sinclair,” Jessie said. “We were worried about you.”
“Clearly,” the woman said, “And while I appreciate the concern, I’d love to be able to visit the ladies’ room without worrying that guards are going to be sent looking for me.”
Jessie fought the urge to clap back. “May we speak to you privately?”
Sinclair still looked irritated but motioned for them to follow her. “Paulette, please get back to the kids. Jimmy, you can start pre-closing cleanup procedures. We’ll be asking folks to leave in the next ten minutes.”
She led them to her office, which was small and made to look even smaller by the hundreds of books lining every shelf, table, and cabinet.
“Look,” Sinclair said once she’d closed the door and taken a seat at her desk.
“I don’t mean to be harsh. I really appreciate the attention you’ve given to my situation, but it’s become a little overwhelming.
I’ve gotten multiple calls from the research department of the Homicide Special Section. That’s your unit, right?”
Jessie nodded.
“They’ve been very attentive, but it’s a lot,” Sinclair said.
“The guards here know about what’s going on.
I’ve agreed to let one of them accompany me to my car.
And I’m staying with a friend in a secure apartment complex tonight.
I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do.
I’m still trying to lead something close to a normal life, you know? ”
“You’re not worried about the potential danger you’re in?” Jessie asked.
“Of course I am, but if I think about it too much, I’m just going to freak out. Am I supposed to curl up in a ball in a corner? That’s not going to lower my anxiety. And truth be told, as awful as all this is, I don’t think it really connects to me.”
“Why not?” Devery asked. He wasn’t really supposed to pose questions, but Jessie didn’t mind. It was a good one.
“Like I told your researcher, I graduated a year after all these women,” Sinclair explained.
“We were friendly back then. They kind of took me under their wing. But I eventually lost touch with them. They included me in a couple of group chats and emails, but that was about it. If I have something in common with them that makes me a potential victim, I don’t know what it is. ”
“That’s what we’d like to talk to you about,” Jessie said. “We’re hoping that even if you weren’t super tight with the victims, you might have some insight that could help us.”
“Of course,” Sinclair said with a sad, heavy sigh. “I’ll do anything I can to help.”
“What’s your connection to Alexander Krantz?” Jessie asked.
“That name sounds really familiar. Didn’t he marry Amanda Black?”
“Correct,” Jessie said. “He attended The Griffin School. And prior to marrying Amanda, he dated several of the girls in your social circle.”
“Okay, I can picture him now,” Sinclair said. “What does he have to do with any of this?”
“You haven’t watched the news lately?” Jessie asked.
“No. I like to stay focused on work while at work. Why?”
“He’s currently in custody for the murders,” Jessie told her.
“Oh my god,” Sinclair said, putting her hand to her open mouth. “That’s crazy. I barely knew the guy, but I never would have thought of him as a killer.”
Jessie was about to press her on that when Sinclair continued.
“Wait. If he’s in custody, why do I have to take all these extra precautions?”
“Because we’re not sure we have the right guy,” Jessie explained. “That's where I’m hoping you can help us.”
“Okay.”
“As I mentioned, Krantz dated several of the other victims before marrying Amanda. Did you ever date him?”
“No,” Sinclair said with a rueful smile. “I’m pretty sure I would have remembered who he was right away if I had. So if he only went after women he dated, does that mean I would have been safe regardless?”
“Not necessarily,” Jessie told her. “One of the victims, Jennifer Nash, never dated him.”
When Sinclair replied, there was a bit of snark in her voice.
“That’s not exactly true.”