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CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
Jessie tried to be careful.
She had to assume that Commander Butters had people tailing her and any indication that she was still pursuing Michaela’s killer could put her or Hannah at risk. So instead of meeting Ryan directly at their next stop in Culver City, she pulled into the covered parking structure of an outdoor mall down the block, took the elevator down to the first floor, and joined in with the mid-afternoon shopping crowd.
She entered a Japanese grocery store and walked briskly to the back storeroom. One employee gave her a suspicious glance but said nothing. Feigning confidence, she moved to the back exit, which opened onto an alley next to Washington Boulevard. She waited at the edge of the alley for a crowd to assemble at the crosswalk, and then joined them when the pedestrian sign turned green.
After quick stops into both a coffee shop and a bakery, she felt fairly confident that she’d evaded anyone following her. Even if she hadn’t, there was nothing other than the Post-it linking the person she was about to see to the Penn case.
That person was Aaron Rose, a married corporate lawyer who worked out of a gleaming office tower in Culver City. The name matched the initials “A.R” from the Post-it. Of the two remaining photos in Michaela’s envelope, his was the one FBI agent Jack Dolan had been able to identify.
The third man’s photo wasn’t in the system at all, which Dolan found odd, because, at the very least, his driver’s license photo should have popped up. He couldn’t explain it.
While he tried to solve that discrepancy, Jessie told Ryan to take a circuitous route and meet her at Rose’s office to question him. She entered the office tower and headed straight for the service elevator. A security guard chased after her.
“Ma’am, you have to check in at the front desk,” he ordered forcefully.
Jessie didn’t stop until she was at the elevator door.
“I’m here to conduct an LAPD interview,” she said, flashing her badge at him. “I’m trying to stay low profile so as to not cause a scene for your building’s tenants. But if you prefer, I’ll return to the lobby and sign in. Of course, I’ll have to properly identify myself as a criminal profiler and ask for backup in case our person of interest tries to sneak out.”
“Ma’am,” the guard said, suddenly far less forceful, “we have our procedures.”
“I was just trying to avoid a hassle for me and an embarrassment for you. But it’s your call.”
While the guard weighed whether it was worth it to stick to the letter of the law, Jessie waited. She preferred to go in this way and avoid being seen by any potential tail. But her gambit was already a partial success. If one of Butters’s people had managed to stick with her and walked by or even entered the building, she was nowhere to be seen. The longer she could drag this encounter out, the better off she was, even if she did eventually have to sign in back in the lobby.
The guard opened his mouth, apparently having come to a decision. But before he could speak, Ryan rounded the corner.
“What’s going on back here?” he demanded.
“Sir?” the guard said, now thoroughly flummoxed.
“Are you preventing my partner from entering the elevator?”
“Your partner?”
“Detective Hernandez, Homicide Special Section,” Ryan said, holding out his badge uncomfortably close to the guard’s face. “We’re about to conduct an interview and it looks like you’re interfering. Didn’t you fill him in on this already, Hunt?”
“I did,” Jessie said, adopting her best frustrated, impatient tone. “I told him I was trying to do this quietly to avoid a fuss for us or the building. But this gentleman was more interested in getting my John Hancock on his sign-in sheet. I told him I’d have to get way more official then—backup, squad car, sirens—the whole thing. But he doesn’t seem to mind. So I guess we’re lobby-bound.”
“Hold on,” the guard said desperately, clearly at a loss. His eyes were darting around like pinballs. “We can skip standard procedure this one time. But in the future, please at least consult with security before barreling down the hall.”
Jessie and Ryan exchanged amused looks.
“You got it, pal,” Ryan finally said. “Now may we please resume police business?”
The guard nodded. He turned his security key and hit the “up” button.
“What floor?” he asked.
“Seven,” Jessie said.
“May I ask who you’re visiting at least?”
“You can ask,” Ryan said as the doors began to close. “But we can’t tell you.”
Once the doors shut completely and the elevator began moving, Jessie turned to him.
