There had to be a way to address her need to push the envelope withoutconstantly putting herself at risk. She knew Jessie had some of the same urges.But she’d managed to channel them into hunting killers. Luckily, she also hadbackup from a police department. That wasn’t an option for Hannah. She’dconsidered joining the military when she turned eighteen, but knew that she’dchafe against the discipline.
She wanted to be normal. She didn’t know why she wasn’t, though shesuspected having a genetic connection to a brutal serial killer probably hadsomething to do with it. She’d tried talking to Jessie’s therapist, Dr. JaniceLemmon. It was clear that the psychiatrist knew something was off. But Dr.Lemmon hadn’t ever truly called her on it, apparently waiting for Hannah makethe first move, something she couldn’t seem to do.
On more than one occasion, she’d considered just telling Jessieeverything. They were sisters. They had the same monstrous father. They’d bothseen and experienced horrors most people would never face. Jessie would get it,she was sure. But how would she react?
Hannah worried that, despite their shared pain, Jessie would hit theroof. Any one of the things she’d been doing was enough to freak a guardianout. But intentionally putting herself in harm’s way just for thrills? Hannahpictured herself being tossed into a padded room in a straitjacket or sent tomilitary school or some version of rehab for whatever it was she had.
She had developed some casual friendships at school over the lastsemester, but didn’t feel anywhere near close enough with those people toreveal something of this magnitude. That left her with one person, the sameperson she always returned to: Kat.
Jessie’s best friend, Katherine Gentry, was once the head of securityat a psychiatric prison for the worst, most disturbed murderers and rapists inthe western United States. When her second in command, in the thrall of serialkiller Bolton Crutchfield, helped facilitate Crutchfield’s escape, she lost herjob. Now she was a private detective.
It was her case, on behalf of the parents of a drug-addicted son, whichled to Hannah tagging along on a supposedly uneventful stakeout. And it was duringthat stakeout, while Kat went to the restroom, that Hannah saw and confrontedthe dealer. The incident might have ended badly for Hannah had Kat not returnedin time and left the dealer on the ground with a broken wrist, moaning in pain.
So Kat knew about her proclivity to push boundaries. Equally asimportant, she’d kept what happened that day from Jessie. Almost certainly, theprimary reason was that she didn’t want Hannah to get ripped to shreds by hersister for what she did. But at least part of it was because she didn’t want toget ripped to shreds either.
So she’d kept the secret from her best friend. And that meant she wasvulnerable. Hannah could tell her about the other incidents with someconfidence that Kat would stay quiet to cover her own ass.
And if she balked? Well, then Hannah might need to remind her of exactlywhat she was putting at risk if she told Jessie. That kind of secret could ruinfriendships. Some folks might call it blackmail. She didn’t want to play thecard if she could avoid it. But if she had to, it was there.
Hannah wanted to find a way to be normal. She wanted to be a goodperson. She wanted to get help. But not if it meant being separated from theonly family she had left. That wasn’t acceptable. She simply wouldn’t allow it.
She took her first bite of the omelet. It was perfect. Jessie had oftentold her she should consider culinary school and she’d mulled it over onoccasion. But she doubted that even the dinner rush at a Michelin-starredrestaurant would be enough to sate her cravings. She was about to take hersecond bite when the doorbell rang.
*
Kat hated that she was so nervous.
She waited impatiently for the series of alarms and locks to cyclethrough to conclusion. When Hannah opened the door, looking happy and healthyin her sweats and tank top, she almost abandoned the whole idea.
Maybe she didn’t need to challenge the girl directly. Maybe there wasanother, more subtle way to address her concerns. But then she remembered whathad brought her here in the first place and she knew there was no easy way outof this.
“How’s it going?” Hannah asked, clearly surprised by her unexpectedvisit. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, of course,” Kat replied. “Ryan texted me that he had to worktoday and that Jessie was handling a case on Catalina. He asked if I couldcheck in to make sure you didn’t need anything.”
“I’m good,” Hannah assured her breezily. “I’ve been dressing andfeeding myself for a few years now.”
Kat chucked uncomfortably. “That’s great. Do you mind if I come inanyway?”
“Sure,” Hannah said, pushing the door open all the way.
Kat glanced back at the street one more time. She had the oddestsensation that she was being watched. But there was no one suspicious around.
A middle-aged woman walked her dog, talking to it like her child. Amother pushed a stroller, seemingly more interested in what was playing on herAirPods than in her child. An elderly man, his head barely above the steeringwheel, drove painfully slowly down the street. A young couple jogged along,laughing at some shared joke.
It was a typical Sunday mid-morning in the comfortably middle-classMid-Wilshire district neighborhood. She suspected her own anxieties about thecoming conversation were messing with her head. She stepped inside.
“You want something to eat?” Hannah asked, as she reset all the locksand alarms Jessie was so adamant about. “I was just having breakfast.”
“No thanks. I already ate.”
She sat down across from the girl at the breakfast table, deciding howbest to proceed. It was true that she’d come over at Ryan’s request. But she’dalso come because, with both Ryan and Jessie away, it was the perfectopportunity to talk to Hannah alone. Realizing she’d been sitting silently fortoo long, she decided to just rip the Band-Aid off.
“So we need to talk,” she said.
“That sounds ominous,” Hannah replied mildly before taking a big
