“It doesn’t sound fun,” Ryan observed. “No way to eliminate suspects definitively. No camera footage available to access. No usable prints. I don’t envy you guys.”

  “Yeah, well, it might have been you in this pickle if you hadn’t decided to go into handyman mode,” Jessie said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Just take it easy, keep that foot elevated, and let me know if my prodigal sister returns, okay?”

  “That’s it?” he asked, mildly surprised. “No APBs? No roving patrols?”

  “Nope,” she said, unable to completely hide the exasperation her voice. “We’re done with that. She can come to us. But if she does, please let me know.”

  “You got it,” he said. “Don’t worry too much, Jessie. It’s not like we haven’t been through this before. She’ll turn up.”

  Jessie nodded. He was right. This wasn’t new and stressing without a credible reason wouldn’t help. It might actually make her miss something important with the case.

  “And good luck to you guys,” Ryan added. “Let me know if you bump into any famous musicians at the Eddie Records offices.”

  Jessie smiled despite the situation. She appreciated his attempt to lighten the mood. Maybe she’d even try to get him an autograph. That is, assuming Joe Baldwin’s Chief Deputy DA friend didn’t try to have them thrown out. The thought of that made her smile even wider. She’d like to see him try.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Hannah should have known better.

  She knew she couldn’t stay in the park by Dr. Lemmon’s office forever, so she’d headed back home to the mid-Wilshire area. But she couldn’t go home too early, as it would raise the suspicions of Ryan, who was home with that ankle injury. He’d want to know why she wasn’t at the session with Lemmon, assuming the doctor hadn’t already called to share her absence. She could go to Tommy’s Coffee, her favorite coffeehouse down the block, but she’d be easy to find there and she wasn’t in the mood to be found.

  So instead, she had her ride share driver drop her off at a local parkette a few blocks away from the house. It had a small playground for little kids, a cement wall for people who wanted to play handball or do some solo work on their tennis game, a half basketball court that was used just as often by teen skaters, and a few shaded benches.

  That’s where she had settled in—on a wooden bench under a large tree—before realizing her mistake. With everyone only having a half-day of school today, there were lots of other neighborhood kids her age looking for ways to entertain themselves. Some were smoking under trees on the grassy section near the court. A few were playing basketball. And there were a half-dozen guys skateboarding along the edge of the court. She recognized one of them right away.

  She didn’t know his name but everything else was familiar from their one previous meeting. He still had the greasy black hair and acne-covered face. Blockily built, he was her height but about forty pounds heavier. Just as at their last encounter, he had on black jeans with a pocket chain attached. The only difference of note was that, unlike the black Insane Clown Posse t-shirt he wore under his jacket last time, this time the shirt was gray and touted the band Limp Bizkit.

  Just two weeks ago, she’d rescued a younger kid in a nearby convenience store from the skater, who’d been trying to pressure him to shoplift a beer for him. She’d challenged the skater and when he’d turned his ire on her, she’d screamed bloody murder, accusing him of trying to grope her. The store clerk had chased him out and that was the end of it—until now.

  She hadn’t seen him in the interim, didn’t even know if he went to her large high school. But at the moment, he was playing a game with his buddies, where they raced from one end of the court to the other on their skateboards, while trying to shove the others so they’d lose their balance and fall down.

  He hadn’t noticed her yet but Hannah knew that once he did, he’d remember her and she doubted it would be fondly. She’d made quite an impression in the store, first by seemingly arousing his teen boy hormones to distract him from the younger kid, then by freaking him out and sending him running.

  Now that he was in an unsupervised area, surrounded by five friends who might quickly turn into a ravenous pack if nudged, she felt at a distinct disadvantage. It was unlikely that anyone would come to her aid if things got ugly, or that they could do much to help her if they tried.

  For a few seconds she didn’t move, debating how best to handle the situation. Skater Guy was less than fifty feet from her so getting up and hurrying off might draw his attention. Staying where she was surely would. Eventually she decided the best move was to leave slowly and as inconspicuously as possible.

  She turned to her right, away from him, put on her sunglasses and pretended to fiddle with her small backpack for a few seconds before standing and walking away from the group in the direction of the small building that housed the restrooms and the groundskeeper’s storage room. She was halfway there when she heard him.

  “Hey baby, I remember you,” he called out and she knew without looking that he was talking to her. “You cost me a beer a while back. I think you owe me.”

  She continued walking slowly, as if she had no idea his catcall was intended for her. There was no point in heading toward the restrooms. They could easily follow her inside and she’d be trapped in there. The groundskeeper was nowhere in sight, not that he was any match for six unruly teenage boys anyway.

  She moved past the playground, which was slightly elevated and filled with woodchips to protect any children who might fall off the play structure. Off to the side was a large, empty stroller that belonged to the one nearby mother, who was pushing her toddler on a swing. That gave her an idea. The teen guys couldn’t navigate across the playground surface on their skateboards. To catch up to her, they’d have to stay on the same narrow sidewalk she was currently traversing, between the playground and a metal chain link fence that backed up to a small strip center.

  She swung her backpack over her shoulders and waited until Skater Boy was closer. She could hear his board moving fast as he nastily called out, “Ready to make it up to me, baby?”

  That’s when she grabbed the stroller and yanked it into the path right behind her, ignoring the protestation of the mother. Without looking back, she broke into a sprint. As she reached the end of the fence, she heard a thud and a grunt, followed by multiple other thumps and curses.

  Only as she rounded the fence did she look back to see that Skater Guy had collided into the empty stroller and hit the ground, after which two of his buddies had slammed into him and toppled over too. The three remaining guys had hopped off their boards in time to avoid getting taken down and were trying to help their friends up.

  “I’m fine!” Skater Boy snarled. “Go after her!”

  She lost sight of them as she darted around to the front of the strip center and dashed past the kids’ haircut place and the dry cleaner, curling around the side of the latter and back to the chain link fence. She peeked out at the sidewalk she’d just left in time to see all six guys rounding the corner to the front of the strip center.

  Once they were out of sight, she leapt up, grabbed the top of the fence and hauled herself over. Then she dropped back down to the sidewalk she’d just come from and lay flat on her stomach. The sidewalk was about three feet lower than the parking lot of the strip center, so that the edge of the lot created a small wall dividing the two sections. It was high enough to obscure her, assuming the guys didn’t get too close to it.

  Hannah looked to the left to find the mother whose stroller she’d used as an obstacle, walking briskly her way with the child in her arms, her ponytail bouncing aggressively behind her head. She wanted to apologize to the woman, to plead with her not to give her up. But the woman, petite but wiry in her yoga pants and form-fitting sweat top, had a determined look on her face as she came over. Her phone was to her ear. The voices of the guys rounding the corner reverberated through the park.

  “Where the hell did she go?” one of them asked the others.

  The mom opened her mouth and Hannah winced, aware that she was out of options. But even as she dreaded the conflict to come, some part of her—deep down and seemingly immune to all her efforts to snuff it out—longed for it. As adrenaline raced through her system, she imagined grabbing the guy’s skateboard and smashing it into his windpipe. She pictured his friends stepping back in horror as he gasped fruitlessly for breath.

  “I don’t know where the girl you were terrorizing went,” the young mom barked at them. “But I know where you jerks are, which is what I’m going to report to the police right now.”

  “Come on lady, don’t be a bitch,” came the reply from the one Hannah knew as Skater Guy.

  Looking at the mom, Hannah could tell that she wasn’t intimidated.

  “I’ll be sure to tell them how you spoke to a mother with her child in her arms,” she began before pausing briefly, as if coming to some realization. “And after I talk to the authorities, I’ll be sure to call your mother, Robbie Fox, and tell her that I saw you here, hanging out with boys who call women bitches. How do you think she’ll react to that?”

  “Oh man,” someone who was obviously Robbie said, “forget that girl. Let’s go. Please don’t say anything to my mom. We’re leaving.”

  “Whatever, wuss,” Skater Guy retorted, but it was clear from his voice that he was facing the other direction and moving away fast. The guys continued skating but the sound of their wheels on the asphalt faded into the distance.

  The mom watched them go as she stroked her little boy’s head. It was a good forty-five seconds before she finally spoke.

  “They’re gone now. You can get up.”

  Hannah crawled to her feet and looked over the wall. The guys were nowhere in sight. She found herself unexpectedly consumed with disappointment and even a little anger at the mom for interfering and preventing the conflict from escalating. She did her best to mask it.

  “Thank you,” she said, turning back to the woman. “And I’m really sorry about your stroller. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” the woman said. “That was actually pretty quick thinking, not that you should have had to come up with an escape plan at all.”

  “Well, thanks anyway,” Hannah replied.

  “What was all that about?” the woman asked as she put the boy in the stroller, “Something about costing him a beer?”

  “Oh,” Jessie said, deciding how honest to be. “A few weeks ago in a store, I saw him pressuring some kid to steal a beer for him. I told him to leave the kid alone and then he started harassing me. So I called out for help and the store clerk chased him off with a baseball bat. I guess he held a grudge.”

  The woman nodded, and then looked in the direction where the guys had disappeared.

  “Do you live close to here?’ she asked.

  “A few blocks south,” Hannah said.

  “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t I give you a ride home? Who knows where those jerks are now. I’d hate for you to run into them walking home.”

  “Thank you,” Hannah said.

  “Not a problem. We have to stick together,” she insisted. “What’s your name?”

  “Hannah.”

  “Nice to meet you, Hannah, I’m Carrie. This little man is Sam. Now let’s get out of here so you can see your family and I can call Robbie’s mom. That boy is about to have a very ugly evening.”

  Hannah got in the car and waited while Carrie put Sam in his car seat and then the stroller in the back. As she waited, Hannah came to a realization that had been circling around her brain for weeks: she was exhausted.

  After the murder of the Night Hunter and all the dangerous, subsequent attempts to chase that one moment of euphoria, followed by the lying, the self-delusion and now the running, hiding, and needing to be saved by mother holding a baby, it was just too much. She’d gotten in way over her head and there was no way to get out on her own. She needed help. There were people offering it to her.

  It was time to accept it.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  In Jessie’s opinion, Eddie Records was an architectural monstrosity.

  The Hollywood building stood near the top of a hill on Vine Street between Yucca Street and Franklin Avenue. It sat just across the street and north of the Capitol Records building and seemed to be competing against it.

  The structure was designed to look like a bookshelf with a bunch of album covers lined up next to each other. But with its uneven edges and strange, unjustified gaps, it looked more like an accordion made of multi-colored, corrugated metal.

  It was 3:45 and Jessie was just parking the car when her phone buzzed. Once she found a spot on the street, she checked the message. It was from Ryan and read: Hannah just got home. Dropped off by some mom and her baby. No explanation for that. Said she turned off her phone and then forgot she did it. Refused to discuss why she missed her session. Super fun to be around right now.

  Despite the sympathy she felt for Ryan, the stronger feeling was one of relief. Hannah was okay. And if she was being her usual difficult self, it meant that nothing too terrible had happened to her while she was out. They could work out the particulars later. At least now she could focus on the case without worry gnawing at her every second. She texted Dr. Lemmon with the update and got out of the car.

  “All good?” Valentine asked as they walked toward the entrance.

  “I know where my sister, who I’m legally responsible for, is. So it could be worse, I guess.”

  They stepped inside the building and discovered that the album cover theme dominated there too. The walls were a collage of painted album covers interspersed with vinyl records. Unfortunately, the result looked more like alien spaceships against a psychedelic sky: interesting until the inevitable headache kicked in.

  The lobby was also littered with multiple pillars, on which rested record players, boom boxes, and even a Walkman. The intended goal was obviously to treat these items as works of art, and in theory it made sense. But in practice, it came across as pretty cheesy.

  They approached the reception desk, where a pale, young blonde with pink and blue streaks in her hair and several tattoos on her neck greeted them.

  “How may I help you?” she asked pleasantly.

  “LAPD,” Valentine said, flashing her badge. “We need to speak to Joe Baldwin and the executive team for the label.”

  The woman nodded as if she got that kind of request from law enforcement every day.

  “They’re all on level seven,” she said, sliding a clipboard toward them. “If you could just sign in and put on these visitor badges before you head up, I’ll have our communications lead, Celine Warne, meet you in the foyer.”

  After signing in and putting on the badges they took the elevator upstairs, where Celine was waiting. Unlike the receptionist, she had no tattoos and her hair was all the same color—brown. She wore stylish glasses, a retro Annie Hall-style pantsuit getup and looked to be in her mid-twenties.

  “Hello,” she said politely. “My name’s Celine. I assume you’re here in relation to Eddie’s recent passing?”

  “You’ve already heard?” Valentine asked.

  “Yes,” she said gravely. “Mr. Baldwin came by briefly a little while ago to deliver the news to the entire staff. We’re all still processing it.”

  “You say he came by briefly,” Jessie repeated. “So he’s already left?”

  “Yes,” Celine told her. “He said he was quite shaken up and planned to spend the rest of the day at home. He said that anyone who didn’t have pressing duties today could do the same. Unfortunately, with the press inquiries, contract questions, and a new album from one of our artists dropping tomorrow, most of us need to stick around. That’s why I’m here. As long as I am, what can I do to help you?”

  Jessie shrugged at her partner, indicating that she should take the lead if she wanted. She clearly wanted.

  “I’m Detective Susannah Valentine,” she said. “This is Jessie Hunt, a profiler who consults with the department. We’re just following up on a few loose ends. We’d like to talk to your head of business affairs.”

  “Of course,” Celine said and led them down a long hallway. Jessie couldn’t help but notice that while the ground floor of the building was ridiculously ostentatious, the seventh floor where actual work was done, looked like any other office: drab, with corkboard dividers and fluorescent lighting.

  “How was Eddie viewed by the staff?” Jessie asked casually as they rounded a corner.

  “Oh, everyone considered him a genius,” Celine told her. “His ability to forge personal connections with artists was amazing. He really made them feel like they have a home here.”

  “Right,” Jessie said amiably before pressing a little harder. “But in terms of his personal interaction with employees, especially female ones, I heard that he could be a little more… assertive than some might like.”

  Celine stopped walking and turned to face her.

  “I’m not sure exactly what I’m supposed to say,” she said. “The man just died this morning. I feel like it would be inappropriate to be overly critical of him.”

  “We get that, Celine,” Jessie said soothingly. “But we’re the police, and in order to close this case, we need to get a fuller picture of the man, not some rose-colored glasses version. So just tell us the truth. It’s not like he can do anything about it now.”

  Celine bit her lip as she considered what to do.

  “Okay,” she said, pulling them into a small, unoccupied conference room. “I don’t want to get too specific, but let’s just say that while a lot of us are worried about what will happen with the company going forward, none of us will miss Eddie’s personal touches, and I mean that literally. It was like he never heard of Harvey Weinstein. He never met an ass he wouldn’t grab or a neck he wouldn’t kiss. And when he was high, which was often, it was twice as bad. We’d warn each other around the office to always stay in pairs so he could never get anyone alone.”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21