CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
Jessie squinted in the late afternoon sun, trying to stay focused on the job at hand.
Ninety minutes ago, she'd been at the CBI office in Santa Cruz, listening to Carl Webb muddle his way through an excruciating press conference.
Now, after another jet flight back to Southern California, she was in a black SUV, which was speeding from the Van Nuys airport to an address in Santa Clarita, just north of Los Angeles.
That was where Rebecca Sullivan, formerly (and very briefly) Rebecca Mannix, lived.
After reading the file about her provided by Jamil and Beth, she had a better sense of who they were about to visit.
The person who called the hotline—a mutual friend from college—had informed them that Rebecca and Jason Mannix had been married about a decade ago.
But it was more complicated than that. According to the documents the research had found, they were indeed married in a quickie ceremony in Las Vegas nine years ago.
That explained why no L.A. County marriage certificate between the two was uncovered.
After less than six months of not-so-wedded bliss, they returned to Sin City to have the thing annulled.
It turned out that Rebecca discovered Jason was cheating on her.
He ended up getting a restraining order against her after she slashed his tires and later came after him with a hot hair straightener.
Ultimately, he agreed to drop the charges and to the annulment she demanded.
On the way to Rebecca’s house, Jessie called Mannix, who was still being held at Central Station.
“Why didn’t you tell us about her?” she pressed.
"I guess I was embarrassed," he explained. "It was a long time ago, and I behaved terribly. But since I haven't had any contact with her in forever, I didn't think it mattered."
“But she assaulted you,” Webb said.
“Frankly, I deserved it.”
“You didn’t think so at the time,” Jessie pointed out. “Or why get the restraining order?”
“In the moment, I was scared about what else she might do, but it was only a one-time thing.”
“Actually, between the tires and the hair straightener, it was a two-time thing,” Webb said.
'Now that you mention it, it was actually three," Mannix conceded. "I'm pretty sure she poisoned my goldfish, too, though she denied it."
“And you didn’t think a person with that history of violence was worth mentioning as a possible suspect?” Jessie asked, incredulous.
“It really didn’t occur to me,” he said. “Besides, if I had told you that I had another marriage, after all the ones you already knew about, what would you have thought of me?”
“What difference does that make?” Jessie demanded.
“I care about what you think of me,” Mannix said, his voice thick with shame.
Jessie found her resolve weakening slightly. She almost felt bad for the guy. Then, furious with herself, she shook her head hard from side to side, forcing the feeling away. Jason Mannix, even at his most cluelessly pathetic, had a puppy dog charm that was hard to fend off, even for her.
“Do you think she’s capable of something like this?” she asked, returning to the job at hand.
“Up until a few days ago, I would have said no, but now I don’t know what to think.”
Finally, a straightforward answer. Now she needed another one. She couldn’t completely keep the acerbity out of her voice.
"Mr. Mannix, is there anyone else we should be aware of? Any other wives, real or fake, that you haven't mentioned? Anyone you eloped with and forgot about? Any fiancées you left at the altar? Now is the time to come clean."
“No, nothing like that, I swear. Rebecca was the only one. I think our marriage may be why I was so reluctant to get into another one, at least legally. I must have been scarred by the experience. I didn’t want them to go so south, so I avoided all the official stuff like paperwork.
That way, if one of them fell apart, we could just walk away without all the fuss. ”
Jessie was trying to wrap her head around Mannix’s messed-up mindset when she was distracted by the agent driving the SUV. He was waving to get her and Webb’s attention.
“We’re almost there,” he said.
She returned her attention to Mannix. As usual, his explanation sounded convincing at first blush.
But at almost every turn, what he had told them turned out not to match up with what they learned later on.
She was beginning to wonder if she could even trust his confessions.
If she couldn’t, then she needed to have a backup plan.
“Rebecca better be the only remaining wife. If I find out you’re lying, then I’m coming for you. And trust me, you don’t want that,” she said before unceremoniously hanging up and focusing on the street in front of them. “What’s the current status at the house?”
“We’ve got local PD patrolling the neighborhood,” Webb said. “So far, they don’t think anyone is home. That would make sense. If she’s our killer and is driving back from Santa Cruz, that’s over five hours. She wouldn’t have arrived yet.”
“But if she flew, she would be,” Jessie reminded him. “Maybe have your people check to see if she was on any flights today.”
“On it,” he said, nodding at the agent in the front passenger seat, who immediately made a call.
“Also,” Jessie added. “I recommend the patrolling officers pull back. If Rebecca Sullivan is our killer, she’ll be hyper-vigilant. Seeing multiple police cars in the neighborhood might make her run. We want to grab her when she’s not expecting it.”
“Do you really think it could be her?” Webb asked.
"It's as good a lead as any we've had so far," Jessie said.
"Sullivan has shown a predisposition for jealousy, justified or not, as well as a propensity for violence.
True, it's been many years, but you never know what might set someone off.
Maybe her life has fallen apart recently, and she has blamed him.
Or maybe she saw him somewhere, perhaps with one of his "wives," and snapped.
Maybe she stumbled across an old photo or Facebook post. If she's unbalanced, there's no telling what's going on with her. "
What Jessie didn’t say was how easy it was to put herself in Sullivan’s shoes. Her own feelings of bloodlust had returned with a vengeance mere months ago, after years of dormancy. If it could happen to her, why not Sullivan?
She kept something else to herself too. If the woman was capable of slashing tires, burning someone with a hair implement, and possibly killing an animal, then who knows what else she was capable of? Some part of her wanted it to be Sullivan. She wanted to personally take her down.
Jessie felt that unwanted stirring again, the beginnings of the urge to exact vengeance of her own.
If Sullivan had really slaughtered four people, including three unsuspecting women and a police officer, then she deserved whatever she got.
Jessie sucked in a deep gulp of air, trying to stave off the feeling.
She reminded herself that the murderer deserved one thing: to be brought to justice. Everything beyond that was out of her hands, or at least it should be. She just hoped she remembered that when the time came.
*
They waited just down the street from Sullivan’s house.
As the minutes ticked by, Jessie got antsy. She thought the black SUV stood out like a sore thumb. But it was better than a patrol car. Two other vehicles, both sedans, were parked nearby. Two patrol cars were one street over.
“Did you know she remarried?” Webb asked her, scrolling through his phone.
“No. When?”
“Five years ago,” he said. “It looks like she has a kid too. A daughter, three years old. She works as a hospital administrator in Chatsworth.”
“Have you sent anyone to see if she’s there?”
“No,” Webb said. “I only just read this. But I can.”
“It’s probably a good idea. If she’s there, we can track her movements. Plus, we should talk to her co-workers to see if she was in all day today. But send plainclothes folks if you can. We don’t want to alert her if she is our killer.”
Webb was just starting to make a call when Jessie noticed a car round the corner onto their street, heading in their direction. It was a Red Hyundai Tucson, moving slowly. Jessie got a tingly feeling.
“I think that’s her,” she said, pointing at the vehicle.
Webb looked over.
“Do we know that’s what she drives?”
“I’m sure it’s in the file. Jamil would have definitely included it. But I just have a feeling. That’s a mom’s car. That’s Rebecca Sullivan.”
A moment later, as if in direct response to her comment, the car pulled into the Sullivan’s driveway.
“Tell your people to get ready,” Jessie said, not even pretending that Webb was in charge anymore. “We wait until the driver exits the vehicle to make sure it’s really her. Then we move.”