“But what’s the point?” Ryan asked. “If the nemesis he battled for solong is dead, where’s the challenge?”
Jessie looked at him, a cold chill running up her spine. She was hesitantto say the words because it would make them irrevocably real.
“First he killed Jared Hartung and waited,” she said, barely above awhisper. “When that didn’t get our attention, he killed Jenavieve Holt—whosename was spelled with a J instead of the usual G. And if we don’t catch himsoon, he’ll do it again. He’ll torture and murder someone else, someone withthe initials J.H. He thinks he’s found a new nemesis, Garland Moses’s protégé,Jessie Hunt—J.H. He’s speaking to me through the murders.”
Ryan shook his head vehemently.
“You don’t know that,” he insisted. “It could just be a coincidence.”
“It’s not,” she said, only now putting the final piece of the puzzletogether.
“How can you be sure?” Ryan demanded.
“Jamil,” she said, her voice unexpectedly calm, “I interrupted youearlier. You were starting to say something about the locations where his carwas spotted. Why don’t you finish your thought?”
“Right,” Jamil said, his voice shaking slightly. “There was only oneother place with as many vehicle sightings as the Holt and Hartung residences,six so far, by my count.”
“Where?” Jessie asked, though she knew the answer.
“Your house.”
EPILOGUE
Hannah knew she didn’t have much time.
At some point Jessie was going to feel the need to pick up theirargument where they’d left off. It wasn’t in her sister’s nature to letsleeping dogs lie. Some time tonight, likely very soon, she’d knock on thedoor. And when Hannah didn’t answer, she’d knock again.
Eventually, Jessie would unlock it and come in, probably with Ryan, whomHannah had heard her talking to in the other room. That’s when they’d see thatshe’d slithered through the triple-locked, bulletproof bedroom window.
So she didn’t have long. She’d only left the house five minutes ago,not nearly enough time to get away from a criminal profiler with the resourcesof the LAPD at her disposal. As a precaution, she’d decided to have therideshare driver meet her a few blocks over, near the closest gas station. WithJessie’s uncanny powers of perception, Hannah halfway believed her sister couldjust sense an unfamiliar car that pulled up anywhere in the vicinity of herhouse.
Hannah wasn’t one hundred percent sure what her plan was. She didn’twant to run away. Jessie was her family—her only true family. And whateverwalls were between them now, she had to believe they weren’t insurmountable.
But she needed a break, a respite from the constant hounding andpressure. She needed some time to clear her head and understand what washappening with her; maybe a day, maybe just a few hours. But she knew that ifshe sat in that bedroom one second longer, she would explode. And when sheexploded, the mess was hard to clean up.
She was about halfway to the gas station when she saw it. A car wasidling on the side of the residential street four houses up on the right.Someone was lying on the road next to the open driver’s seat door. It lookedlike the person was writhing in pain.
She broke into a brisk jog until she got close. In the glow of the car’sinterior light, she could see that it was an old man, probably at leastseventy. He was clutching at his chest. There was drool dripping down his chinand his eyelids were scrunched tight.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, leaning closer.
His eyes popped open and she saw what looked like true terror in them.
“Think I’m…having a heart attack,” he grunted. “Can’t breathe, pain.”
“I’ll call nine-one-one,” she said immediately, standing up and pullingout her phone.
“Not…enough time,” he moaned. “Hospital…is close. Drive…me…please.”
Hannah looked at the man’s face, sweaty with the effort of speaking.His lips were starting to turn blue. He was right. By the time an ambulancearrived, he might be dead. The closest hospital, as Jessie had drummed into herhead repeatedly, was less than three minutes from here.
Staring at the man, helpless on the ground, she was bombarded by a rushof thoughts. She could save his life. If she did, Jessie would be proud of her.She’d forgive her. They could leave the past behind.
And then came the buzz at the thought of tearing down the road, pullinginto the emergency room driveway, screaming for help. Just the image of it madeher whole body tingle with anticipation.
There wasn’t really any decision to make. She shoved her phone in herpocket, opened the rear door, and heaved the pathetic old man into the back.Then she got into the driver’s seat, shut the door, and without even putting onher seatbelt, hit the gas, speeding off into the night.
NOW AVAILABLE FOR PRE-ORDER!
THE PERFECT DECEIT
(A Jessie Hunt Psychological SuspenseThriller—Book Fourteen)
“Amasterpiece of thriller and mystery. Blake Pierce did a magnificent jobdeveloping characters with a psychological side so well described that we feelinside their minds, follow their fears and cheer for their success. Full oftwists, this book will keep you awake until the turn of the last page.”
--Booksand Movie Reviews, Roberto Mattos (re Once Gone)
THEPERFECT DECEIT is book #14 in a new psychological suspense series bybestselling author Blake Pierce, which begins with The Perfect Wife, a#1 bestseller (and free download) with over 600 five-star reviews.
Whena string of newly-married couples are found murdered in high-end suburbs,Jessie is called in to find the connection between them. Her investigationbrings her into the world of exclusive weddings, and a sprawling list ofpotential suspects.
Onlyone thing is certain: it is a life-and-death race before the killer strikesagain.
Afast-paced psychological suspense thriller with unforgettable characters andheart-pounding suspense, THE JESSIE HUNT series is a riveting new series thatwill leave you turning pages late into the night.
Book#15 (THE PERFECT MISTRESS) is now also available.
THE PERFECT DECEIT
(A Jessie Hunt Psychological SuspenseThriller—Book Fourteen)
Did you know that I've writtenmultiple novels in the mystery genre? If you haven't read all my
