Tommy, a wisp of a kid who looked a special shade of pale, shook hishead. Jessie did her best not to let Peters’s jab get to her. He pushed openthe doors to reveal about twenty people, all casually milling about, somechatting at a few of the bare banquet tables. There was a woman nursing a babyin the corner. A gangly, scruffy-faced security guard stood at one end of the room,scrolling through his phone. Jessie’s heart sank.
“We need to separate everyone,” she said.
“Even the couples?” Peters asked.
“Even the couples, especially the ones the victim arrived here with. Nomore than one person per table. If we need to use a second room, let’s do that.”
Peters looked at her skeptically and she thought he might object.
“It’s your show,” he finally said before turning his attention to theassembled, who were all now staring in their direction. “Okay, everyone, listenup. I know you’ve been waiting around. But you’re going to need to wait alittle longer. We’ve brought in a big gun from the city to help question you.But she insists that all of you need to separate until we can talk to youindividually. That means everyone. Friends, couples—no one sits togetheranymore. No one talks to each until we’ve talked to you. If that means some ofyou have to be moved to a secondary ballroom, I’m sure Stone can helpfacilitate that, right, Stone?”
The security guard who had been on his phone nodded reluctantly.
“Sure,” he said.
“I mean it,” Peters added. “Conversations end now. If you persist, Ms.Hunt here may have you tossed in the pokey. We all understand each other?”
There was a general collection of nods amid the unhappy frowns. Jessie bither tongue, fighting the urge to ream Peters out then and there. Even beforeshe’d started her interviews, he’d managed to create animosity toward her amongthe witnesses. This case was going to be hard enough to solve without havinghurdles thrown in front of her by her supposed partner.
“We’ll be back as soon as we can,” he added before turning on his heeland leaving without another word. Jessie felt an angry heat rising up the backof her neck as she watched him stride off arrogantly.
“Hey, Detective Peters,” she called out to him once the door closedbehind them. “Is it your intention to throw me under the bus in everyinteraction we have tonight?”
He stopped and turned around. He wasn’t smiling.
“You can handle it,” he said unapologetically. “I have to live hereafter you go. I don’t need to alienate the entire town in one night.”
Jessie had come into this situation planning to be polite, if only togrease the wheels. But her patience with the guy was wearing thin already. Maybeit was being awake for almost twenty hours. Maybe it was the bumpy helicopterflight in. Maybe it was the cold. Maybe he was just an asshole. But she’d hadher fill of it. If he was going to tar her as the “big gun from the city,”maybe she’d act like it.
“Is that how you conduct your law enforcement around here, DetectivePeters—too afraid to ask tough questions because you don’t want to alienate thelocals or scare off rich tourists?”
“Hey—” he started to object but Jessie cut him off.
“If that’s how you operate, maybe you’re better off joining Stone inthere as a security guard. But if you consider yourself an actual cop, maybeyou should be less worried about who you’re alienating and a little more focusedon trying to catch the person who murdered a woman in her hotel room.”
“That’s not fair,” he protested. “This is a four-person department. Wedon’t usually deal with murders here. In fact, before now, we’ve only had sixin a hundred twenty years. But I’m running ragged around here trying get thissolved.”
“It’s absolutely fair,” she shot back. “That’s called doing your job. Nowyou can whine or you can step up. Either way, as you said, it’s my show. So takeme to the victim, because we’re wasting valuable time.”
Peters looked sullen but he didn’t speak again. Instead he led her to anelevator, where he punched the button for the top floor. The doors closed andthey headed up to see the woman with the knife in her chest.
CHAPTER THREE
The hall was deathly quiet.
It took Jessie a moment to understand why. It wasn’t just that it wasthe middle of the night. Every guest on this floor was down in the ballroomright now. The only people around were her, Peters, the sheriff’s deputystanding guard outside the hotel room, and the dead person on the other side ofthe door.
She let Peters lead as they approached the room. The skinny deputy atthe door looked nervous and sweaty, as if just being in proximity to a deadbody was too much for him. He didn’t look a day over twenty-two.
“How are you doing, Keith?” Peters asked him.
“Okay, sir,” Keith said. “Nothing major to report. A few people camedown the hall, looky-loos. But I shooed them off without much problem.”
“Good job,” he said, before nodding at Jessie. “Keith, this is JessieHunt. She’s a criminal profiler from LAPD’s Homicide Special Section back onthe mainland. She’ll be helping us out. Jessie Hunt, this is Deputy Keith Heck.He’s been on the team here on the island for about four months now.”
“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” Keith said.
“Likewise,” Jessie replied. “Mind if I take a look inside?”
He stepped aside without a word. Jessie put on her latex gloves andopened the door. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gabrielle Crewe’s bodyon the bed. But instead of focusing on it, she began by looking around the roomfirst.
She had discovered through unpleasant trial and error that once shefixated on the victim’s body, everything else seemed to fall away, putting herat risk of missing small details. So she’d learned to study everything else ata crime scene before turning her attention to the body. That was especiallyimportant in this case, as she was working without a net. There was almost nosupport staff on the island. Her titular partner was more adversarial thansupportive. She was essentially alone.
The suite was like
