Jessie Hunt 13-The Perfect Impression by Blake Pierce (good book recommendations .txt) 📕

wanted to stay because this was thefirst time we’d gotten an entire weekend off since Ginny was born nine monthsago. That only made her angrier. She told me I couldn’t come back withher. So I stuck around, drowned my sorrows in too much liquor, partied toohard, discovered that someone I came here with was dead, and ended up vomitingin a rose garden. That’s my night. How was yours?”

Though she was disgusted by his lack of sensitivity, she didn’t want togive him the satisfaction of showing it, so she didn’t pause for even a beat.

Not great,” she told him. “I’ve been trying to find out who murderedthat very friend of yours and I keep bumping into walls set up by the lot ofyou. Speaking of, I noticed you didn’t answer my question about what you werearguing with your wife about.”

“Yeah, that was intentional,” he said, moving from snarky to overtly confrontationalfor the first time. “It was between me and Ari. It has nothing to do with anyof this, so I don’t see why it matters.”

“Everything matters, Mr. Aldridge,” Jessie shot back.

Just then, Esteban arrived with the toast and coffee. He placed them onthe small drink table next to Aldridge. As he did, he caught Jessie’s eye.

“I’ll be right back,” she said and joined the waiter by the door.

“Detective Peters didn’t want to interrupt your questioning,” hewhispered, “but he asked me to let you know that he’s nearly completed all ofhis interviews. Security will be clearing the ballrooms soon and all the guestswill be returning to their old rooms or newly assigned ones. He said he’ll be compilinghis notes in the Catalina Room, ready to talk when you’re done.”

Jessie looked over at Aldridge, who seemed more focused on stirring hissugar than providing helpful answers. Unfortunately, until she’d had a littletime to review her own notes, she wasn’t confident that she could wring any newones out of him. This might be the perfect time to download what she and Petershad learned. She could only hope that the detective would be better at thatthan he had been at the rest of the investigative process.

“Thanks, Esteban,” she said. “Please tell him I’ll be right up.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with that southern twang that she was pretty suredidn’t originate in Texas. When he left, she returned her attention to the bigblond guy in the chair, who was chomping on his piece of toast like he hadn’teaten in days.

“Here’s what’s going to happen now, Mr. Aldridge,” she saidmatter-of-factly as she ripped two sheets of paper from her notepad. “First, Iwant you to write down your address and every phone number I might use to reachyour wife. When I leave you, I want you to reconstruct your timeline for thenight, including everyone who can vouch for your whereabouts and what time youwere with them.”

“A lot of it’s kind of hazy,” he said, crumbs falling out of his fullmouth.

“Do the best you can,” she said, trying not to gag. “When you’re done, giveit to the hotel manager, Mr. Barksdale, and ask him to pass it on to me. Then Iwant you to return to your room and stay there until you’re contacted. You arenot to leave the hotel, much less the island, without authorization. If you do,you’ll be considered a fugitive from justice. You don’t want that. Do weunderstand each other, sir?”

Unable to speak with his mouth jam-packed with dried bread, he noddedand gave her a thumbs-up. After he handed her his wife’s contact numbers, sheturned to leave, giving Maura a wave. The bartender did the same, only insteadof using her hand, she waved Chuck the night stick.

As Jessie walked up the stairs, she tried Ariana Aldridge’s cell andhome numbers. She got voicemail both times and left the same message asking forher to call back. She was frustrated by the delay until she remembered that itwas still only four in the morning.

As anxious as she was, it was a little early to expect someone toanswer. All the same, she called the desk sergeant at LAPD’s Downtown Stationand asked him to get a squad car to do a drive-by of the Aldridge house, justin case she was packing up for an unplanned trip out of the country.

Satisfied that she’d done all she could, she headed up to meet Peters.Exhausted and discouraged by the lack of progress, she was tempted to call Ryan,if not to get his advice, then to just hear his voice. This place, with all itssecrets and unfriendly faces, made her feel especially lonely.

But that would be selfish. Hopefully, he was sleeping deeply and nothaving one of the occasional nightmares that made him wake up sweating. Shealso wondered how Hannah was doing. Sometimes late at night, she could hear hersister whimpering in her sleep. It was crazy, but some part of her thought thather presence in the house could keep their demons at bay.

Niggling at the back of her brain was another concern: with the loomingthreat of the Night Hunter, or some sick protégé of his, they would need allthe rest they could get. She wanted Ryan at the top of his game as heinvestigated the case. And she wanted Hannah alert to any possible threats shemight face. Reminding herself that there was nothing she could do about any ofthat now, she walked into the empty ballroom where she found Detective Peters sittingat a table with his head in his hands. Without all the guests, the place feltstrangely sad, almost as if it was longing to fulfill its intended purpose.

“How’s it going?” she asked.

Peters lifted his head and Jessie could tell immediately from hisstricken expression that something was very wrong.

“Gabrielle Crewe was pregnant,” he said.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Jessie grabbed onto a nearby chair for support. She felt like she’dbeen punched in the gut.

“Are you sure?” she asked, hoping it was a mistake though she alreadysensed it wasn’t.

“The medical examiner is,” he said. “He just gave me an update beforehe and CSU took the body over to the hospital. He said he’ll have a draftreport by this afternoon.”

“How far along was