The Perfect Impression by Blake Pierce
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ryan Hernandez was up before dawn.
It was hard to sleep without Jessie in bed beside him. And after what she’d told him last night about the Night Hunter, he was anxious to go into the office, even though it was a Sunday.
He started his morning routine, noting that he moved a lot quicker now than even a few weeks ago. Of course, quicker was a relative term. It meant that, with the assistance of a cane, he could get to the bathroom in thirty seconds instead of sixty. It meant that he could get dressed in five minutes instead of eight. It meant that he could tie his own shoes. But considering that after waking from a coma six months ago, he couldn’t move at all, he thought he was making solid progress.
He quietly made breakfast, not wanting to wake up Jessie’s sister, Hannah. The girl was challenging enough on a good night’s sleep. Without it, she was extra scary.
He would never say it out loud, but part of him was looking forward to her turning eighteen in a few months. At that point, Jessie would no longer technically be accountable for her. It didn’t mean she’d feel any less responsible, but at least if the kid stayed out all night, she couldn’t be held liable for whatever trouble her sister got in. Considering that Jessie was only thirty years old herself, being free of responsibility for an eighteen-year-old she’d known for less than two years seemed like a generally positive thing.
He wondered if Hannah would want to move out after her birthday. Though she was a constant challenge, he didn’t love that idea. With all the trauma that she’d suffered in the last few years, she didn’t seem ready to be on her own. But if she insisted, they couldn’t stop her.
More probable was that she’d leave the house when she started college. She’d mentioned it several times already. And despite everything she’d been through, Hannah was an excellent student who had already gotten a few scholarship offers. Ryan suspected that a few of them were partly due to her notoriety as the child survivor of an infamous serial killer, but whatever paid the bills.
That last thought gave him a pang of guilt. He ought to have more patience with her. The fact that she was a functional human being rather than babbling incoherently in an institution was a testament to her toughness and mental fortitude. If that sometimes manifested as rudeness or icy disinterest in others, was that really all that different from other kids her age?
He knew that some of his low-grade resentment was due to his desire to start a real life with Jessie. After all, they lived together now. He was recovering nicely. She had a normal job when she wasn’t taking freelance gigs helping solve murders. He wanted to move to the next level. But with Hannah at the center of Jessie’s world, that just didn’t seem possible right now.
Ryan took his last sip of coffee and made a conscious decision to put those concerns out of his head, deciding that focusing on a potential serial killer might be a good distraction. He slid a note under Hannah’s door to let her know where he and Jessie were. Then he ordered his rideshare, reset the security system, and went outside to wait for the car.
He was able to do many things that hadn’t been possible just weeks ago, but driving was not yet among them. As he waited for his driver to arrive, he texted Jessie to let her know their status here on the mainland and see how things were going on Catalina Island. He didn’t get an answer. She must be pretty busy.
*
As he limped through the main lobby of Downtown Station, Ryan went over how he planned to broach things with Captain Decker. He had decided to stick only to the connections between the two recent cases and make no mention of the possible Night Hunter angle.
Decker had made it clear what he wanted when he brought Ryan on in a consulting capacity. Homicide Special Section, the investigative jewel of the department and Decker’s baby, was in trouble.
Garland Moses, the department’s top profiler, had been murdered. His heir apparent, Jessie Hunt, had left LAPD to pursue a career in academia, only occasionally taking cases Decker didn’t trust in lesser hands. Ryan, the head of the unit, had been incapacitated since the summer.
That still left the unit in the hands of competent, talented professionals. But without Jessie’s brilliance and Ryan’s experience and leadership, Homicide Special Section just wasn’t that special anymore. HSS was supposed to take on the most challenging, high-profile cases in the city. But with a few notable exceptions, their recent case closure record was unimpressive. According to Decker, the unit was starting to be viewed as a glorified money pit that no longer delivered the glowing headlines headquarters craved.
That’s why Decker had Ryan scouring cold case files. It was also why he had ordered him to poach any case he thought might help restore HSS’s luster, even if another station was already well into their investigation. That decision bred even more animosity, only making the unit’s position more tenuous.
So while Ryan was glad to be able to bring Decker a case that might change that dynamic—a potential serial killer murdering attractive young Angelenos in a horrific way—he also had reservations. If he mentioned the Night Hunter at all, he feared Decker would run with it, using the legendary killer as a way to regain the unit’s clout.
Even as he considered the thought that this might be the infamous killer he’d read about in textbooks, another fear crept into his gut, one he didn’t like to acknowledge: what if he wasn’t up for hunting the man down? He’d been out of the game for half a year, which was challenging under any circumstances. But to hit the ground running (or hobbling in his case) by pursuing someone who’d slaughtered more than eighty innocent people? Was he really the man for this?
Of course, as he and Jessie had discussed, there was no guarantee that this was the Night Hunter’s work. In fact, he was dubious. The man might not even be alive, and if he was, he’d be a senior citizen. This could be a protégé or a fan boy copycat. Suggesting it was the Night Hunter and having that not be true could permanently destroy HSS’s reputation, guaranteeing its demise.
So after he passed through the fairly quiet bullpen on this Sunday morning, making his slow, deliberate way to Decker’s office, he vowed to be equally deliberate in what he revealed.
“Detective Hernandez,” Decker said, standing up as Ryan entered his office. “I’m surprised to see you here so early on a Sunday. What would Ms. Hunt say?”
“I think you know she’s too indisposed to say anything, sir,” Ryan said as he hobbled over to the chair across from Decker’s desk and settled in.
He wondered how long the captain had been here. The man’s starched dress shirt was already showing signs of wrinkles. His tall frame seemed in danger of folding in on itself. And his hair, comprised mostly of occasional white strands, looked like it was trying to escape his head entirely.
His deeply creased face made him look much older than his sixty-one years and the bags under his eyes seemed to stretch almost down to the nostrils of his eagle-like nose. Only his eyes, sharp and penetrating, hinted that this was a man not to be underestimated.
“Good point,” Decker said, sitting back down. “But if she could, I doubt she’d be enthusiastic about your presence here today. If you’re willing to risk her wrath, there must be a good reason for it.”
“There is, sir. I think I’ve found a case that might serve our purposes.”
Decker leaned back in his chair. He looked like he was on the verge of a smile but managed to fight it off.
“Please, Detective,” he said, impressively hiding his enthusiasm. “Tell me what you’ve got.”
But before Ryan could do that, a uniformed officer came into the room unannounced.
“Sorry, Captain,” he said when he saw he wasn’t alone.
“That’s okay, Officer Braden. Where are we?”
“Hostage negotiator is on the scene; sharpshooters too. Bomb squad is on the way. We’ve cordoned off a two-block zone and are evacuating civilians.”
“Excellent,” Decker replied calmly. “Keep me apprised.”
“Yes, sir,” Officer Braden said, and left as quickly as he arrived.
“Something interesting going on?” Ryan asked.
“A gentleman took over a coffee shop on Spring Street. He’s got a gun and is threatening to kill customers. He also claims to have planted pipe bombs in several surrounding buildings. I’m surprised you didn’t hear it on the radio coming in.”
“My driver preferred country music standards to news. I didn’t have the heart to ask him to change the station. I can fill you in on my thing later if this is a bad time.”
“No,” Decker said, waving his hand dismissively. “I’ve done everything I can here. Every available officer is deployed. I’m in ‘wait and see’ mode now. I could use the distraction.”
Okay, then,” Ryan replied, handing over the carefully redacted file he’d prepared for the captain. “I think these two cases may be connected. They both involve, young attractive people tortured using an X-Acto knife.”
Decker sat quietly for a couple of minutes, flipping through the file.
“So both of these murders occurred in the last four months?” he asked, finally looking back up.
“Yes, sir,” Ryan told him.
“And you’re sure that the same kind of device—this X-Acto knife tool—was used in both incidents?”
Ryan shook his head, not wanting to overplay his hand.
“I can’t be completely certain because the male’s body was so badly burned in the van crash. But the crime scene photos match those from the female’s home. Long sections of skin removed in ribbon-like patterns. Based on initial estimates of time of death, both medical examiners thought the victims were alive through much of the ordeal. Though they were different genders, both victims were young and attractive. The incidents appear to have occurred around the same time of night. It seems unlikely that it’s just a coincidence.”
Again, Decker went quiet. When he spoke, his voice was hushed.
“And no one else has made this connection?”
“I don’t think anyone else has had reason to look, Captain,” Ryan answered. “The killings took place in different divisions, several months apart. And because of the van crash, details on the first one were delayed. There was no reason for urgency at the time. I only made the link because I’ve been poring over this stuff for weeks, looking for any cases that fit our profile.”
“But by tomorrow, that will change,” Decker noted. “The detectives on the original case involving this Hartung kid will review the report and they’ll put it in the system. The detectives handling Jenavieve Holt’s murder—if they’re halfway decent cops—will find it. They’ll claim ownership.”
“Possibly, Captain,” Ryan said, squirming slightly at Decker’s fixation on who knew, “but I have a bigger concern. If this is a serial killer, he’s probably keeping abreast of developments. He surely knows about the coroner van crash. I suspect he’s unhappy that his first murder didn’t get the recognition he thought it deserved. He knows that as far as LAPD is concerned, there’s only been one X-Acto murder. I’m worried that he’s planning another one, so there’s no confusion anymore.”
Decker nodded, lost in thought, unconsciously straightening his already-straight tie. Eventually he fixed his gaze back on Ryan.
“That’s why you need to take over the case today, before there’s a pissing contest over jurisdiction. A suspected serial killer falls under the HSS mandate. It’s ours.”
“Yes, Captain,” Ryan said, trying to think of a diplomatic way to make his next point. “But maybe we can wait until later in the day to stake our claim. I’d like a little more time to get my ducks in a row if there’s going to be sniping. I want everything airtight when I submit to take over the case. Until then, I think we should keep things under wraps.”
He didn’t mention that he feared that Decker might go straight to the folks at headquarters, trumpeting HSS’s triumphant return before Ryan had a chance to get the ball rolling. Hyping an HSS investigation and then not being able to solve it might do more harm than not having a case at all.
“That’s fine,” Decker said, “especially since you’re desk-bound. With this hostage thing, I don’t have the resources right now for you to send officers into the field to follow up leads.”
“That’s okay, Captain,” Ryan said. “I think we’re more in research mode right now anyway. Maybe I can connect with Jamil Winslow and we can see if we can’t make some progress here.”
Decker’s eyes lit up, but Ryan could tell it wasn’t because of what he’d said.
“You do that for now,” he said approvingly. “Winslow hates taking days off anyway. He’ll be excited to come in on a Sunday. But I just remembered something else. Trembley returns from vacation today. Call him in. he’ll be well-rested. He can be your man in the field, pursuing whatever leads you dig up.”
Alan Trembley was another detective in HSS. Young and eager, he was a guy Ryan was confident would be happy to take point, even if meant cutting his last day of vacation short.
“Yes, sir,” Ryan said. “I guess I better get going then.”
“Yes, you better. And remember, we’re officially pulling rank on this thing no later than this afternoon, got it?”
Ryan nodded as he carefully extricated himself from the chair. He shuffled slowly out of the office, trying to hide his concern. He was happy to have his boss’s full support but he worried about him too.
Roy Decker was his mentor, the man who had believed in him and promoted him through the ranks. But the captain’s intense need to save HSS was starting to border on desperation. His tunnel vision seemed to be blinding him to the political risks of getting this wrong.
He was pushing so hard that he was risking alienating not just other station captains and division commanders, but the higher-ups at headquarters too. If he hyped this case too much and it didn’t pan out, he wasn’t just putting the unit at risk. He was endangering his own career.
As Ryan went to his office to call Jamil, the station’s brilliant young researcher, he wondered if bringing this case to Decker so early was a mistake. Even if it was, it was too late now. He was committed.