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CHAPTER TWO
Parker didn’t justwant to say “hi.”
As Jessie and Ryanquickly learned, she wanted to assign them a murder case.
Jessie sighedsilently as the captain gave them the address and asked them to head over tothe crime scene immediately, saying she’d give them the details in the car.That meant that Jessie had two minutes to scarf down some dinner, change out ofher sweats and back into something professional.
She gave herself aquick once over in the bedroom mirror to make sure she was presentable. Shewore the same gray slacks from earlier that day, but with the temperaturedipping into the low 40s tonight, she switched to a black wool sweater andtossed on a coat.
She pulled hershoulder-length brown hair out of her green eyes and tied it back into aponytail. Then she slipped back into a pair of brown sneakers, which lookedlike loafers, and added an inch to her already considerable five foot tenheight. Satisfied, she headed out the door and hopped in the car. Ryan drovewhile she called Parker back.
"We're enroute, Captain," she said once Parker picked up the line. "What's thesituation?"
Jessie had learnednot to waste time on pleasantries with Gaylene Parker. The woman was theepitome of no-nonsense. A forty-four-year-old mother of two, she had worked herway up from street officer to an undercover detective with the Vice unit, whereshe often posed as a prostitute. Eventually, she was promoted to head up theunit, which she led for four years.
It was only whenRyan gave up his position as captain of Central Station to return to runningHSS and recommended her as his replacement that she took over the job. Adaptingto her leadership style had been challenging for both Jessie and Ryan. She wasprofessional but brusque, and as captain, more fixated on adhering todepartment policy than Ryan had been. Both of them, but especially Ryan, hadfelt the friction.
"You'revictim's name is Tabitha Reynolds," Parker replied without preamble."The officer in charge on the scene, Sergeant Kenton, will give you allthe details. But the short version is: she's a fashion influencer and bloggerwith several million followers, which alone would be enough to make her fit theHSS case criteria. But apparently, she was also murdered via some kind ofaerosolized poison. They hadn't determined exactly what kind the last time Ichecked. That combo made it seem like a perfect fit for you two."
“All right,” Ryansaid. “At this hour, we should be there in about twenty-five minutes. Maybe thefolks on scene will know more by the time we get there.”
“Keep me posted,”Parker instructed. “I haven’t heard from Chief Decker yet, but the murder of ahigh profile person using a poison spread through the air? It’s only a matterof time before I get the call. I want to be prepared with some answers.”
"Gotit," Ryan said before he realized he was talking to a deadline. CaptainParker had already hung up.
“Good thing she acop and not a doctor,” Jessie said. “Her bedside manner leaves a lot to bedesired.”
***
They made goodtime.
It only tooktwenty minutes to get to Tabitha Reynolds’s Venice loft. It was just six blocksfrom the beach, in an arty-industrial section comprised of convertedwarehouses. Ryan parked down the block from her building. There wasn’t muchchoice as the area all around it was swarmed with police cars, fire trucks, anambulance, and even a hazmat truck.
They walked overbut didn’t even get close before a young officer held up his hand.
“Sorry folks, thisis a crime scene,” he said, managing to sound appropriately apologetic.
“Detective RyanHernandez,” Ryan said, holding up his badge and ID. “This is Jessie Hunt. We’reworking this case.”
"Iunderstand, Detective," the officer said, "but I'm still notpermitted to let anyone past this point without express authorization fromSergeant Kenton. Let me tell him you're here, and he can assess how toproceed."
They waited whilethe young officer spoke into his two-way radio.
“I know Kenton,”Ryan quietly said to Jessie. “Back when you were restricted to desk dutybecause of your head injury and Susannah Valentine was my partner on that casewith victims dumped under freeway overpasses, he was the officer in charge onthe scene. I remember him being pretty solid.”
As if on cue,Jessie watched as aburly thirty-something cop with bushy, black hair headed their way.
“Good to see youagain, Detective Hernandez,” he said more casually than one might expect underthe circumstances.
"You too,Sergeant," Ryan replied, shaking his hand. "This is Jessie Hunt, ourprofiler. She'll be working the case with me."
“Your reputationprecedes you, Ms. Hunt,” Kenton said, shaking her hand as well. “Here inPacific division, we’re all big fans of your work.”
“I appreciatethat,” Jessie said, always uncomfortable with praise unless it advanced a case.“I gather that hazmat truck has something to do with why we’re not allowed onthe scene?”
“That’s correct,”Kenton said. “Those guys are keeping a pretty tight lid on things until they’resure the area is safe. I was wearing a gas mask until two minutes ago, as iseveryone still in the loft right now, including the CSU folks and the coroner. Theythink it’ll be at least another hour before we’re all clear to enter withoutone.”
“That makes it alittle hard to evaluate the crime scene,” Ryan noted.
