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

she snarled. “You know that you can’t lock me up inthis house forever. Even if you could, I turn eighteen soon. Then what?”

“Hannah, I don’t want to lock you u—” Jessie pleaded but was cut offwhen her sister turned on her heel and slammed her door.

For half a second, Jessie considered storming in after her, but thenthought better of it. She was too angry. Hannah was too hurt. It would onlymake things worse. Using all her willpower, she walked back to the kitchen andtook a long sip of warm milk.

Her thoughts turned unexpectedly to Kat. She was still unbelievablypissed at her friend’s deception. But after what just happened, she had a flashof how hard it must have been to keep this secret.

She could almost understand why Kat had been so reticent to say anything.Yes, she was worried about jeopardizing their friendship. But she must have alsofeared this very outcome, a brutal fight between two people she cared aboutdeeply.

Jessie took another sip of milk as she tried to decide if she shouldreach out to her or let it lie, at least for one night. The decision was madefor her when she heard a car door close in front of the house. She checked asecurity camera and saw Ryan hobbling up the path to the front door.

She hurried to open it and greet him, realizing suddenly howdesperately she needed to see his reassuring smile and look into his warm,brown eyes. She undid the multiple locks and security codes as quickly as shecould, then yanked open the door. She knew the second she saw him thatsomething was horribly wrong.

“What happened?” she whispered.

He looked wiped out. But that wasn’t it. His face was drawn and hiseyes were red. She could tell he’d been crying.

“You didn’t listen to my voicemail?” he asked as he shuffled past herand sat down in the closest chair in the front room.

“No, sorry, I didn’t get a chance,” she said. “My case blew up and thenthe same thing happened here with Hannah. Tell me.”

“Alan Trembley’s dead,” he said simply.

Jessie could barely process the words before Ryan continued in adefeated monotone.

“It was the Night Hunter. We tracked him to a hostel in Santa Monica.We thought we were just following old leads. But he was there. He even usedGarland Moses’s name when he signed the guest register. He stabbed Trembley inthe neck with an X-Acto knife.”

Jessie slumped down in the chair opposite him, too stunned to speak.

“Are you sure?” she finally asked softly.

“That it was the Night Hunter?” he replied, looking at the floor. “Yes.He looked at me from across the street outside the hostel. It was like he knewme. He had that long scar across his forehead. He smiled at me. And Jessie, Ifroze. I…lost my nerve. By the time I recovered, he had walked away into thecrowd. There was nothing I could do.”

Jessie wanted to comfort him but she was still trying to process theother thing he’d said.

“I meant, are you sure Trembley’s dead?”

Ryan looked up. His eyes softened.

“I’m sorry, Jessie. Yes, he’s gone.”

He reached out for her hand and squeezed it tight.

Jessie could feel her brain, overloaded with horror, grief, adrenaline,exhaustion, and the pain medication that was beginning to kick in, start to shutdown. In a desperate effort to fend that off, she made a request.

“Tell me what happened.”

He could tell she needed something to focus on so he did, though it wasclear to her that he dreaded going through it all again. He’d likely had torepeat the story multiple times for investigators and Decker. When he was done,they walked together to the living room, where they could at least rest on thecouch. But before they could plop down, Ryan’s phone rang.

“It’s Jamil,” he said. “You mind if I answer?”

“Of course not. Put it on speaker,” she insisted.

“Hey, Jamil,” Ryan said, nodding. “I’m here with Jessie. What’s up?”

“Sorry to bother you both,” he said. “I know it’s a rough time and I wouldn’tcall unless it was important.”

“That’s okay,” Ryan assured him.

“All right then,” Jamil said. “I was doing what you requested earlier,going through the system to find locations the Night Hunter frequented betweensix and nine times, hoping to discover additional patterns. And I discoveredone.”

“Go ahead,” Ryan instructed.

“I found that his car was identified in the immediate vicinity of JaredHartung’s place eight times in total, seven before his murder and once right afterward,then never again.”

As he spoke, Jessie felt an odd sensation, like a feather was ticklingthe back of her brain. She wanted to identify its source but knew that it wouldcome easier if she didn’t force it. Jamil continued talking and she tried to focusin on his words.

“Then the exact same thing happened with the Holt girl—eight recordedsightings in the nearby area, seven before she died and one after.”

The tickle in her brain had turned into an intense itching, so strongthat she wanted to reach into her skull and scratch it.

“There’s only one other place where he—” Jamil started.

All at once, the itching gave way to an abrupt burning feeling, as ifsomeone had lit her brain on fire, and with the unbearable heat came a light sobright she couldn’t believe she’d never seen it before.

“Hold on,” Jessie interrupted suddenly, turning to Ryan, “you didn’ttell me the male victim’s first name was Jared.”

“I didn’t?” he replied. “Does it matter?”

Jessie couldn’t get the words out fast enough.

“The Night Hunter has been in hiding for decades, only to emerge threemonths ago to kill a guy named Jared Hartung. Then things get quiet again untilfour weeks ago, when he kills a girl named Jenavieve Holt. Do I have all thatright?”

“Yes,” Ryan said, not sure where she was going with this.

“So what happened recently to make him come out of the shadows?” sheasked, waiting only a moment before answering her own question. “Garland Moseswas murdered. It made national news. We know he must have seen it because that’sthe name he gave at the hostel. And I bet he used the very same name at everyplace he’s stayed since coming here.”

“But why?” Jamil asked.

“Because he’s