CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

The stitches made it hard to drive. It was more painful to brake than to accelerate, as she had to flex her calf muscle harder. As a result, the drive out to Norwalk to see Bolton Crutchfield the next day took even longer than usual. Jessie tried to just accept the delay and appreciate the fact that she was alive.

It could have gone much worse. The cut from Andi’s swipe at her leg with the piece of broken glass hadn’t gone especially deep. There was no damage to the muscle and no major blood vessels had been affected. But it was still long and deep enough to require seventeen stitches. Luckily, the doctor told her it wouldn’t prevent her from going to the FBI Academy.

Jessie wasn’t exactly sure when she’d made the decision to change her mind and attend the upcoming session after all. It might have been the previous night in the ambulance on the way to the hospital, when she was lying on a stretcher, dealing with the fact that she’d nearly been outwitted twice in the last few months.

Both times it was because she made assumptions that she could trust people—first her husband, then a seemingly innocuous country club socialite—who ended up wishing her harm. She needed to get better at setting aside her personal feelings if she was going to be a great profiler.

She knew she had solid instincts. But instincts weren’t enough, especially if she hoped to catch someone as dangerous as her father before he found her. There were only so many times she could wing it before her luck would run out. She needed more training.

And there didn’t seem to be any better time than now. She’d accrued some professional capital now, as she had just uncovered Victoria Missinger’s true killer and prevented an innocent woman from going to prison. True, she was partly responsible for Marisol Mendez being under suspicion in the first place. But no one seemed to be holding that against her.

The praise for her work had allowed her to request a sabbatical to go to the National Academy. And since she was technically a consultant, and a junior interim one at that, they couldn’t really say no. Ryan said Captain Decker didn’t want to look churlish so he didn’t have any choice but to sign off on it and hold her position with the department, which would no longer be interim after she returned.

It also made sense from a personal perspective. She’d already signed the paperwork for the divorce. The house was officially sold. And to her delight, this very morning she got the call that her offer on the apartment had been accepted.

Later this week, she would formally move in to her new, highly secure, borderline prison residence. If she had to pick ten weeks in which she could just up and leave town for this program, now was the perfect time to do it.

And since the program didn’t begin until after the new year, that gave two weeks for her leg to heal up. She had officially decided to stop in Las Cruces to visit with her folks for a few days before continuing on to Quantico. 

She’d already checked with the D.A., who said that she wouldn’t be needed to testify against Andrea Robinson for a few months, so there was no conflict there. But her testimony would definitely be necessary as Andi had done a stellar job of covering her tracks.

There wasn’t much physical evidence of her crime. The security cameras offered nothing because they were fried. There were no fingerprints or DNA at the Missinger house. Andi must have left her phone at home when she went to kill Victoria because that’s where the GPS conveniently showed her during the window in which Victoria was murdered.

There was nothing suspicious in her online search history either. Of course she could have gone to any internet café or public library to check up on how to sabotage transformers or overdose insulin.

Authorities did have Michael’s admission that he had been sleeping with Andi and that she’d often talked about them running away together. But other than Jessie’s testimony, there was almost nothing to tie Andi to the crime. And even then, Andi hadn’t ever actually confessed to killing Victoria, only to poisoning Jessie herself, which she was also being charged with. It was logical to assume she’d done that because she realized Jessie had figured out what she’d done to Victoria.

But Andi was claiming that she’d inadvertently put the peanut oil in the drink, thinking it was liquid sugar. Of course that didn’t explain why she was found trying to stab Jessie with a chunk of glass. In the end, the D.A. thought they might have a better chance of convicting her for attempting to murder Jessie than for actually murdering Victoria Missinger.

Ryan had assured her just this morning that now that they knew the culprit, they’d be able to go back through Andrea Robinson’s life in recent days and find evidence that they didn’t even know to look for before.

“It’s been less than eighteen hours since she was arrested,” he reminded her. “Give us a little time to do our work. Andrea Robinson may have been smart but I guarantee you she left traces of what she did. We’ll find them.”

“I really hope so,” Jessie had said. “I want her to go down for the actual crime she committed. Victoria Missinger deserves justice.”

 “That’s the kind of attitude that will serve you well at the FBI Academy,” Ryan noted. “You’ll fit right in with the other straight arrows.”

She didn’t mention that she planned to anonymously donate half of what she got from the sale of her home to the Downtown Children’s Outreach Center or that she had talked to Roberta Watts this morning about becoming a regular volunteer there. It wouldn’t make up for the loss of Miss Vicky, but it was something.

“Who are you kidding?” she teased, trying to divert attention from herself. “You’re way more of a straight arrow than I am. You follow procedure. I barely know what it is. Maybe you should be applying to enter this program.”

“I have actually,” he told her, the disappointment in his voice obvious. “I got in twice. But the timing wasn’t right in either case. Shelly needed me to stay here. I’ll do it at some point.”

Jessie didn’t press him. He clearly didn’t want to get into it. Jessie also realized this was the first time he’d ever actually used his wife’s name.

“Are you going to be able to solve any cases without me around?” she asked, trying to lighten the mood.

“I don’t know,” he said, feigning concern. “Maybe you can get some more tips from your incarcerated buddy that could help me out while you’re gone. Is that why you’re visiting him today?”

“I actually have no idea,” she admitted. “Kat just told me he wanted to speak with me. It’s the first time he’s initiated a meeting. So I’m more than a little curious.”

“Well, I’d say give him my regards, but I don’t think he’d appreciate that from the guy who put the cuffs on him.”

“Yeah, maybe I’ll pass on that that,” Jessie had agreed.

But now, as she pulled through the security gate at the Non-Rehabilitative Division of the Department State Hospital-Metropolitan of Norwalk, she knew there was another reason she wouldn’t mention Ryan Hernandez to Bolton Crutchfield.

Somehow she sensed that Crutchfield wouldn’t be bothered that she knew the man who’d arrested him. Rather, he wouldn’t like that she was so friendly with him. She had the weirdest feeling that he would be jealous.

After once again going through the laborious security procedures, she passed through Transitional Prep to the secure hallway where Kat Gentry was waiting for her.

“How are you doing?” Kat asked as they walked down the hall.

“Not too bad, all things considered. I solved a murder and didn’t get killed by the murderer myself. And I decided to spend ten weeks in Virginia,” she added, explaining her plan and letting Kat know the roommate thing wouldn’t work out.

“I understand,” Kat assured her. “If you change your mind when you get back to town, let me know.”

“I will,” Jessie promised, “though I’m not sure you’d want to room with someone who had her place broken into on the orders of one of your inmates, especially one who doesn’t like you that much.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Kat assured her as they reached the door to the residential cells unit and she waved for someone to buzz them in. “I can take care of myself.”

“Of that, I have no doubt,” Jessie said, though she wasn’t sure that was the point.

They stepped through the door. Most of the staffers at the security station didn’t even glance up. Apparently even Cortez, almost always in playful mode, was too busy to flirt with her. He did manage a quick smile and a wave before returning his attention to the screen in front of him.

“So did Crutchfield tell you anything about why he wanted me to come?” Jessie asked, turning back to Kat.

“Nope,” Kat said as she handed over the emergency red-buttoned key fob. “All he said was that it was important that he speak with you. As you know, normally I wouldn’t accede to a request like this. But I decided to make an exception in this case.”

“Well,” Jessie said, with a hint of resignation, “let’s go find out what fresh hell he’s prepared for me now.”