CHAPTER THREE

Central Station was bustling.

When the elevator door opened, Jessie had to move quickly to dodge three people who rushed in as she was getting out.

She walked down the long corridor that led to the station"s giant bullpen, trying to stay out of the way of numerous officers who were all moving with brisk purpose. At one point she almost collided into the glass doors that led to the bullpen. She took the advantage of the accidental opportunity to look at her reflection and make sure she was presentable.

She was wearing tan slacks that complimented her athletic frame and a long-sleeved black turtleneck that she hoped would protect her from this morning's chill. He shoulder-length brown hair was tied back in a ponytail and her green eyes looked alert. She wore utilitarian brown loafers that added a half inch to her already formidable five foot ten height.

Satisfied that she wouldn't embarrass HSS with her attire, she pushed open the glass doors and entered the bullpen, where she found more of the same chaos from the hallway. She tapped the shoulder of a young female officer nearby.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Big protest in Pershing Square," the officer responded. "Something to do with a homeless encampment that was attacked by a group of hooligans overnight. The protesters have spilled out onto neighboring streets, causing massive traffic issues. All area stations are being mobilized for crowd control."

The officer scurried off, and Jessie continued on, darting and weaving to steer clear of the other cops rushing about. When she got to HSS"s section of the bullpen, walled off by a wobbly square of sad, thin, fabric partitions, she found it virtually empty. None of the unit's detectives were anywhere to be found.

"They were all called in to help with the protest," a familiar voice said from behind her.

She turned around to find her husband and co-worker, Detective Ryan Hernandez, standing there with coffee in each hand and a smile on his face. The sight of him, as usual, made her melt a little bit.

His warm brown eyes, shy grin, and adorable dimples—the features that had first attracted her to him—were on full display. So too were some of his other attributes, which included a square jaw and a well-muscled, two-hundred pound, six-foot-tall body that strained at his dress shirt.

"Everyone?" she asked.

"Yep," he said, handing her one of the coffees. "This one's yours—cream and two sugars. Susannah and Sam just wrapped up a case last night and Karen and Nettles have a suspect in interrogation that they figured could sit on ice for a bit. Parker decided it was all hands on deck."

Susannah was tough but volatile Detective Susannah Valentine. Sam, formerly of Vice, was the newest member of HSS, Detective Sam Goodwin. Karen was Detective Karen Bray, the only parent among the team, at least for now. And Nettles was Detective Jim Nettles, a long-time street cop who had only recently been bumped up to detective and was the veteran of the group. Along with Ryan, they made up HSS's detective squad.

"All hands except for you and me," Jessie noted, taking the coffee and giving the man who'd secured it a kiss on the cheek.

"That's right," Ryan said. "Apparently whatever this case is was enough to keep me from helping out and asking you to leave your session early."

"You still don't have any more details?" Jessie wondered.

"Parker wanted to hold off until you were here, so she didn't have to repeat herself."

There was a slight edge in his voice, but he said nothing more. Jessie could guess why. When he"d been captain of Central Station, before he"d decided to return to HSS full-time and recommended Gaylene Parker as his replacement, he would have shared whatever he knew as soon as he knew it. But Parker liked to hold things closer to the vest, doling out details only when she deemed it appropriate. Ryan, as a one-time captain and current head of HSS, clearly chafed at not getting more preferential treatment, but he tried not to show it.

"Well then," Jessie replied, "let's let her know that I'm here."

They started toward Parker's—formerly Ryan's—office but had only gotten a few steps when the captain opened the door and came out. The woman exuded an authority that was at odds with her physical bearing.

Though the forty-four-year-old mother of two wasn't physically imposing, she had presence. Rising up from a street officer to an undercover detective who often posed as a prostitute, she'd eventually been promoted to head of the Vice unit, a job she'd held for four years until getting the nod as captain.

"Shaniqua told me you had arrived," Parker said in response to the Jessie and Ryan's surprised looks. Officer Shaniqua George, Captain Parker's administrative aide, sat right outside her door.

"I thought I'd save time by coming out to meet you," the captain continued. "As you've surely heard, we've got a bit of a crisis going on in Pershing Square that I need to keep on top of. But Chief Decker called me just before all hell broke loose, so I can't let his request slip through the cracks either. Walk with me."

"Where are we headed?" Ryan asked as they fell into line beside her.

"The HSS Research office," Parker said. "I figured that you"re probably going to want their help on this one, so I"d give everyone the skinny all at once. As you know, I hate repeating myself, and the case I have for you is fast-moving."

They moved down the hallway until they got to the door of Research, which was closed. Parker knocked once and opened it without waiting for a response. Inside, the two researchers turned around to face them, both startled by the unexpected arrival of so many bigwigs.

The head of the two-person department, Jamil Winslow, pushed his glasses up his nose. Small and skinny despite a recent, aggressive workout regimen, Jamil, twenty-five, was the unit's resident genius. He was capable of filtering through massive databases, sorting surveillance video into manageable buckets, or making complex financial records understandable, all seemingly in the blink of an eye.

His social skills didn't always match his intellectual ones, which is where his sole employee came in. Beth Ryerson, also twenty-five, was as adept with people as Jamil was with numbers. Her perpetually chill, friendly vibe was the complete inverse of Jamil's constant, jittery intensity.

An unfussily attractive former college volleyball star at UC Santa Barbara, she was over six feet tall, dwarfing even Jessie. And while she might not be a full-on savant like her supervisor, she had an incredibly sharp mind, which people tended to underestimate because of her looks.

"Hello, Captain Parker," Jamil said with amusing formality. "Detective Hernandez, Ms. Hunt, what can we do for you?"

"HSS just got assigned a new case," Parker replied without preamble. "It comes directly from your old captain. Chief Decker, who personally requested all of your services. I wanted to fill everyone in together."

"We're all ears," Ryan said, leaning against one of the extra desks in the office.

"We just got word about a half hour ago about the death of a woman named Erin Podemski. Decker described her as a high-profile socialite and bestselling author. Her body was found this morning by her pool at her Hollywood Hills home, seemingly strangled. The well-known celebrity angle alone might be enough to justify HSS"s involvement, but there"s more."

Everyone waited silently for Parker to continue. She took a moment to pull out her phone and scroll to a page, which she referred to as she proceeded.

"Apparently another woman was found strangled yesterday morning, also at her Hollywood Hills home. Her name was Sydney Ashe."

"Doesn't ring a bell," Ryan said.

"That's not surprising," Parker said. "According to Decker, she was a stay-at-home mom. But you might have heard of her husband, Gabriel Ashe."

"The producer?" Jamil asked, suddenly animated.

"That's correct," Parker answered.

"Who's Gabriel Ashe?" Beth wanted to know.

"He produced the Stars on Fire films, based on the book series."

"That sounds familiar," Jessie said.

"It should," Jamil replied, sounding borderline offended. "It"s a highly regarded sci-fi series. There have been ten books, and they"ve been made into three movies. All of them were hits."

He looked around expectantly.

"Sorry, Jamil," Beth said apologetically. "You know science fiction isn't really my thing."

"Regardless of how well each of us knows these movies," Parker interceded, "apparently many folks do. And the wife of the film"s producer being murdered has generated media attention. Now that we have two women of note killed in the same way in the same general neighborhood, Decker said it was a clear case for HSS. And he specifically requested that Detective Hernandez take it, along with our unit"s profiler, assuming you feel up to the task, Jessie."

"I do."

"Great," Parker said. "He also thought, and I agree, that while you two go to the Podemski crime scene, Jamil and Beth could begin collecting everything that Hollywood Station has on the Ashe murder so that you can hit the ground running."

"We're on it," Jamil said, already punching a request into the system on his keyboard.

"So are we," Ryan said. "Just give us the Podemski address and we'll head right over."

"Good," Parker said, her own fingers moving quickly through her phone. "I don't need to tell you two, of all people, that Chief Decker is going to be expecting regular updates."

Jessie took a sip of coffee to hide the smile playing at her lips. Parker was being diplomatic is using the term "regular updates." Decker was going to be on her relentlessly, which meant she was going to keep the heat on them. This moment, before they could reasonably be expected to know anything, would probably be the least stressful part of their day.

"We should go now," she said urgently.