“What is it?” she asked warily.
“It’s Captain Decker,” he said, looking at his text. “He wants us at the station. He says he needs to talk to both of us.”
“What happened?”
“He didn’t say,” Ryan told her. “Just that it’s not about a case.”
CHAPTER TWO
Even though their boss said their meeting didn’t involve a case, they moved quickly.
Less than twenty minutes after getting the call, they passed through the bullpen of the downtown Los Angeles Central Station on their way to Captain Roy Decker’s office. It was surprisingly quiet considering that it was already after 8 a.m.
The rest of LAPD’s Homicide Special Section team was already at their dedicated section. Each of them looked up but no one said anything. Detective Karen Bray gave them a little smile. Detective Jim Nettles half-nodded. The newest detective, Susannah Valentine, gave Jessie a hard, less than friendly stare. She pretended not to notice, not wanting to give Valentine the satisfaction.
Because of a string of recent successes, including stopping the Night Hunter and solving the murder of a beloved social media star—both of which Jessie had been central to making happen—Homicide Special Section had gone from being on life support within the department to getting press accolades and an infusion of financial and human resources. Valentine, who Jessie found to be arrogant to a fault, was the first resource in the latter camp.
Another detective was supposed to be hired within the next month but, so far, Decker hadn’t found the perfect candidate. It was understandable. Homicide Special Section, or HSS for short, was one of LAPD’s most elite units, handling high profile cases, many with intense media scrutiny, often involving multiple victims and serial killers. It deserved a top investigator and there were dozens of applicants for the remaining position.
They reached Decker’s door, which was slightly ajar, and Ryan raised his hand to knock when Jessie stopped him, grabbing his arm.
“What?” he asked, startled.
“I just wanted to get a good look at you,” she said, smiling. “We were moving so fast earlier that I didn’t get my usual morning moment to appreciate what a dish you are.”
Detective Ryan Hernandez blushed. Jessie loved that she could still cause that reaction in a man who made other women’s heads turn when he walked by. With his short, jet black hair, his kind, brown eyes, and his broad-shouldered six-foot frame, he was hard not to notice.
He still wasn’t quite back to his “pre-stabbing and multiple week coma” muscled, 200-pound physique, but he was getting close. His rehab workout regime was even more arduous than Jessie’s routine and it was paying dividends. Another six weeks at the same intensity and he’d be back to full strength, and a full three months before even the most optimistic doctors thought possible.
“Are you done?” he asked, embarrassed. “Can I knock now?”
“Are you sure I can’t get you to do a little butt wiggle before we go in?”
He pretended to scowl as he knocked on Decker’s door.
“Come in,” the captain called out.
They stepped into the office, which was furnished with an old desk, an old rolling chair behind it, two old metal chairs across from it, and an extremely old sofa along the back wall. The sofa looked like it had been purchased at a 1970s garage sale and not cleaned since. Jessie took a seat in one of the metal chairs. Ryan took the other.
Decker was standing, studying a file that he held about five inches in front of his face. He still looked as weathered and worn out as usual, way more than a sixty-one year old man should be. He was slouched with his chest caving in on itself. His face was still a mass of wrinkles, and his few clumps of gray hair shot out wildly. His eyes were as piercing as ever. But something about him was different than usual. And then, in a flash, she realized what it was: Captain Roy Decker almost looked happy. It was so rare that it was actually cause for concern.
“Everything okay, Captain?” Ryan asked, when Decker still hadn’t spoken or looked up after half a minute.
“To be honest, I’m not sure,” he said, finally placing the file on the desk and sitting down. “I’ve been reviewing department policy on romantic relationships between professional partners.”
Jessie felt the tension rise in her chest, not out of nervousness so much as out of annoyance.
“What does it say in there about congratulating folks on getting engaged, Captain?” she asked. “Because I noticed you haven’t done that yet.”
Decker’s wrinkled features briefly softened.
“You’re right. I’m sorry about that. I move straight from hearing the news to judging the news. Congratulations. I’m very happy for you.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“Thanks, Captain,” Ryan joined in.
“And now back to the judging,” Decker said, the wrinkles returning.
“What’s the problem, sir?” Ryan asked. “Jessie’s not formally my partner. She’s not even a detective or an LAPD employee. She’s a criminal profiler who consults for the department on a case by case basis. She’s worked more cases with Detectives Bray and Reid than with me lately.”
“Come on, Hernandez,” Decker scoffed, “we all know that was because you were out of commission for most of the last seven months after the whole ‘stabbing and coma’ situation. If you’d been available, you two would have been working together.”
“So what?” Jessie protested. “Like Ryan said, I’m not a detective. I’m a consultant. The standard rules aren’t applicable.”
“I’m not so sure,” Decker countered. “And just as important, public perception matters. There are a lot more eyes on us now, jealous folks looking for us to fail. They’ll use any excuse to make us look bad to the media and get our funding redirected to their departments.”
“That won’t work,” Ryan said. “The press loves Jessie.”
“Right now it does,” Decker agreed, “but remember it wasn’t all that long ago that her ex-husband tried to frame her to make it look like she was racist, anti-police, and a drug addict all at the same time. Don’t you recall the crowds protesting outside this station? Hell, after she took down Sergeant Hank Costabile—that corrupt bastard—there are still some cops in the Valley Division she’d be wise not to run into in a dark alley.”
“What’s your point, Captain?” Jessie demanded.
“My point is that we need to make sure this isn’t a potential conflict of interest and that’s not a decision I can make alone. And we have to think about what this says to the other members of the unit.”
“What?” she asked incredulously. “Do you think Susannah Valentine is going to make a play for Jim Nettles? The guy’s a decade older than her, is married with three kids, and can’t button his dress shirts properly.”
“There aren’t just detectives in this unit, Hunt,” Decker reminded her.
“Are you talking about Jamil Winslow?” Ryan laughed, referring to their brilliant head of research. “The kid’s twenty-four and could get knocked over by a strong gust of wind. I’m not sure he’s ever even been on a date. If she hit on him, he’d probably pass out then and there.”