CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

Jessie could feel Andi’s eyes on her, boring into her back.

“What did you do?” she heard the woman hiss, her lips only inches away.

There was another loud knock, this time even more urgent.

“Open up!” a male voice shouted. “This is the LAPD. We received an emergency message from this address.”

Jessie felt fingers dig into her skin as Andi rolled her over onto her back. She kept her eyes closed and tried not to breathe, hoping she looked like an unconscious person. It didn’t work.

“You can stop faking. I know it was you. There’s no way they could have responded this quickly. Not that it’ll do you any good.”

Jessie heard a shattering sound and decided it was time to open her eyes. As she did, the door pounded as if someone was kicking it.

Andi was kneeling directly above her, holding a long piece of her own broken mojito glass in her right hand, which was bleeding profusely. Her eyes were focused in the direction of the banging door.

“Last chance,” the male voice yelled. “Open the door or we will break it in.”

Andi glanced back down at Jessie and saw that she was awake. Her eyes widened with a crazed glee and she lifted the long glass shard above her head before bringing it down.

Jessie was still clutching at her coat and brought it up to block the blow. The glass tore through the material at first before snagging, losing momentum on the way down and never actually connecting with Jessie’s body.

Andi tried to yank the glass free but in the process, managed to pull the ensnared coat as well, tearing it from Jessie’s hands. As she forcefully ripped the glass free of the coat, Jessie took in the deepest breath she could muster. Andi fixed her eyes on her again.

Do something now or you’ll never do anything ever again.

Still lying on her back, Jessie raised her uncovered right foot in the air and kicked at Andi as she dove forward. Her foot smashed into the other woman’s chest, sending her backward before the glass weapon could find its mark.

Andi’s back slammed into the coffee table behind her. The force knocked the glass out of her hand. She slumped there briefly, seemingly dazed. The sound of splintering wood from the foyer brought her back to her senses. She began scanning the carpet for the chunk of glass.

Jessie decided not to wait for her to find it. As quickly as she could, she rolled onto her stomach and began crawling away in the direction of the foyer. She heard jostling behind her and suspected Andi had found the glass and was standing up, so she tried to do the same.

She pushed up with the limited strength in her arms and scrambled to her feet, stumbling forward. She could hear several voices in the hallway ahead of her and careened, off-balance, in that direction. She had just crossed the threshold from the carpeted den into the marble hall when she felt a searing pain in her right calf and a hand on her left ankle. She tumbled forward, throwing her arms out to protect her head as she hit the ground.

“Freeze,” a voice yelled from somewhere in front of her.

She looked up to see two men in LAPD uniforms, both with guns drawn and pointed in her general direction. Behind her, she heard the distinct sound of glass hitting marble and knew that Andi must have dropped the piece she’d been holding.

“Thank god you’re here, Officers,” Jessie heard her say. “This woman broke into my home and attacked me. I had to use a chunk of glass to hold her off. I think she’s delusional. Please be careful. I think she’s armed.”

The cops, who had both had their guns trained above Jessie in the direction of the woman behind her, now looked confused. Jessie hadn’t been expecting this and wasn’t sure how to make the true situation clear. It didn’t help that she wasn’t even sure she could speak yet. Her throat was no longer closed off but it felt raw and tight. She swallowed hard and croaked out the one word she hoped would let them know the truth.

“Hernandez.”

The cops glanced at each other before returning their attention to the women in front of them.

“That’s who sent out the alert,” the officer in front said to his partner, “Detective Hernandez from Central Station. If she knows that, she must be the one who placed the call.”

“Let’s cuff them both and sort it out later,” the officer in back said.

“Fine by me,” the first one said. “Both of you: hands where we can see them. Other than that, don’t move.”

Jessie nodded, relieved, and spread her arms out on the floor in front of her. As long as Andi was cuffed, she didn’t care if she was too. The officer in front holstered his gun and proceeded toward them slowly.

As he did, Jessie heard an almost imperceptible scraping sound behind her. She knew what it was immediately. Andi was picking up the glass again. With every ounce of strength she had left, Jessie yelled as loud as she could.

“Weapon!”

The second officer still had his gun out and didn’t hesitate to fire it. Even with the sound of the shot echoing through the hallway, Jessie heard someone hit the floor behind her. Then the screaming began.

Andi was howling an indecipherable mix of unintelligible screams and only occasionally coherent, random words like “bitch,” “mine,” and “pay.” Jessie glanced behind her to see the lady of the house sprawled out on her back several feet away. Her right arm lay immobile at her side. Blood was pouring from that shoulder. Her left hand was flailing about, intermittently trying to stop the bleeding. The piece of glass rested harmlessly on the ground six feet away.

The first officer hurried past Jessie to attend to Andi. The second officer, with his eyes trained solely on Jessie, holstered his gun and pulled out handcuffs.

“You Hunt?” he asked, looking down at her.

Jessie nodded.

“I still need to cuff you until we clear this up.”

“I understand,” Jessie said, putting her hands behind her back before adding, “Is she going to be okay?”

“She’ll recover,” the officer said. “I’m a pretty good shot.”