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“Absolutely not,” Nina said, waving her off, “Besides, this is a work meal for me so I can deduct part of it.”
“Thanks so much,” Ava replied.
“Of course,” Nina said, pulling out a sheet of paper. “Now let’s get down to the nitty-gritty. Here’s a retention agreement. Look it over and, if you’re comfortable, sign it. Then we’ll get started.”
“What exactly would ‘getting started’ entail?” Ava asked as she took the document.
“The first thing we’ll do is probably hire a private investigator to look into Harrison more closely,” Nina explained. “I know a few really good ones. It’s one thing for you to follow him around town, but a professional will know what to look for and won’t be at risk of getting recognized like you would. We might also look into hiring a forensic accountant to go through your books and uncover patterns you might have missed. After that, we should have a better picture of what’s up. Then we can decided how to proceed. Sound good?”
“Yes,” Ava said as she scanned the document.
A moment later, the server returned with an embarrassed look on his face.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Kirby, but your card was declined,” he told her.
Nini looked stunned.
“There must be some problem on their end,” she said. “Did you run it more than once?”
“I did,” he said, before leaning over and whispering, “they actually told me to destroy the card but that seemed excessive. Do you perhaps have another one I can use?”
“I can cover it while you work out the confusion,” Ava offered, hoping that might help dissipate the beet red color on Nina’s face.
“No, no,” Nina replied, shaking her head. “You look over the papers. Just give me a minute. I’m actually going to go call the credit card company. I’m a little concerned that someone might have gotten access to my card number and gone on a spending spree. I’ll be right back.”
She got up and scurried off. It was the first time Ava had ever seen Nina look frazzled. Normally, she was so calm and collected. It was her preternatural confidence that had made Ava first consider her for the job. Even though she knew it was unfair, she wondered if she was making a mistake. If Nina could be thrown off this much by a credit card hiccup, how would she handle a setback in court?
If she could find a way to do it diplomatically, maybe she’d tell Nina that she was having second thoughts.
CHAPTER ONE
Jessie Hunt feared that she might fall asleep right here in her chair.
She was supposed to be focused on her breathing, doing a five-minute meditation to clear her head. But she hadn’t slept well last night and worried that if she kept at it, the first part of her session with Dr. Lemmon would just turn into a nap.
“This isn’t working,” she admitted, opening her eyes. “It’s a great idea, but I can’t relax with you sitting there staring at me.”
“First of all,” began Janice Lemmon, Jessie’s long-time psychiatrist and friend, “I wasn’t looking at you at all. I was writing down items for my shopping trip after we’re done here. I’m low on avocados and dill pickle spears. And second, that’s a cop-out. How are you supposed to reduce stress in your life if you don't take even my most basic suggestions? I swear, you’re starting to stress me out!”
“Is this proper doctor-patient interaction?” Jessie teased lightly. “Aren’t you supposed to be infinitely patient and supportive? I feel attacked.”
“Now you’re trying to deflect,” Lemmon said, her tight, little gray ringlets of hair bouncing relentlessly. “I know all your tricks, Jessie Hunt.”
It was true. Dr. Janice Lemmon might be mostly retired as she neared seventy years old, but in addition to having treated Jessie for over a decade, she was also a former, highly celebrated LAPD and FBI criminal profiler. Despite her diminutive frame and thick glasses, she was still sharp as a tack. It was hard to get anything past her.
"Okay," Jessie replied, giving in. "So let’s just set aside all the relaxation exercises and you can simply ask me what you want to know straight out. After all, directness has always been one of your greatest gifts, Doc.”
“Flattery is a blunt tool, Jessie,” Lemmon said, “but I’m fine being direct. Why don’t you tell me how you’re feeling physically since our session last week. How long has it been now since the car ‘incident,’ two months?”
“By ‘incident,’ I assume you mean when I had to jump out of a speeding Lamborghini to escape a serial killer who was trying to abduct me, and subsequently rolled on the asphalt road for about fifty feet?”
“That is what I was referencing,” Lemmon confirmed.
“Well, that happened in late September, and the doctors told me I probably wouldn’t feel right until December, but I think I'm ahead of schedule. After all, Thanksgiving is later this week, and I'm walking and talking normally. I’m even going into the station tomorrow to meet with Gaylene Parker about starting up with Homicide Special Section again.”
Homicide Special Section, or HSS, was a unit of the LAPD that investigated cases with high profiles or intense media scrutiny—typically involving multiple victims or serial killers. It was also where Jessie worked as a criminal profiler, or at least used to. She was still technically out on medical leave.
“That’s interesting and we can get to it in a moment,” Lemmon said, “but I want to come back to how you’re doing physically. What about the skin grafts? And the headaches?”
