“No one heard anything?” she asked both men.
“Not based on our preliminary interviews,” Peters answered.
“What about security footage from the hallway?” she asked. “Have youhad a chance to look at it yet?”
Peters paused before sighing loudly.
“There isn’t any,” he finally said.
“The hotel doesn’t have hallway footage?” she asked incredulously.
“It doesn’t have any footage at all,” he told her, soundinguncomfortable with the admission. “Other than the main entrance and the lobby,they don’t record anything.”
“How is that possible? Just a month ago, I investigated another murderin a hotel and they had cameras everywhere but the stairwells. The Paragon seemslike a luxury destination. How much does a room go for here?”
“This suite goes for eight hundred dollars a night,” Deputy Heckoffered helpfully.
Jessie turned to Peters.
“That kind of money and they don’t consider the safety of their guestsenough of a priority to install a few cameras?”
The detective paused before answering, as if trying to be honestwithout being truly forthcoming.
“The Paragon considers itself a bastion of privacy,” he said. “They’vecultivated a reputation for offering folks seclusion and confidentiality. That’spart of why it’s so popular with mainlanders. It gets a lot of return guests. Iguess they decided that cameras undermined the vibe.”
Something about the policy didn’t make sense to Jessie. A place likethis was opening itself up to all kinds of liability in the event of somethinglike what occurred tonight. She found it hard to believe they’d risk a massivelawsuit just to maintain a reputation for being discreet. But it was clear thatPeters wasn’t going to be much help in unraveling that mystery.
Frustrated, Jessie finally turned her attention to the woman on thebed. Without warning, she felt an unexpected tide of panic ripple through her.She clenched her fists tight together, digging her nails into her palms to keepfrom screaming out loud or running from the room. Even as she fought the gripof horror, she understood where it came from: this was just how Ryan had lookedafter Kyle plunged a knife into his chest.
She had somehow managed to push that memory from her head in recentweeks. But seeing this woman in the same position made it all flood back withan intensity she was unprepared for. Her breathing had quickened and she feltfrozen in place. She could sense Detective Peters’s eyes on her and instructedherself to get a grip.
Stay calm. Breathe slow. Step forward slowly. Set aside everythingelse. Focus on the victim.
The sound of her own voice in her head—cool and professional—gave herthe confidence to approach the body. With each step toward the bed, the anxietyfaded and a sense of normalcy returned.
This was a stabbing victim, but it wasn’t Ryan. He was home, eitherstill working in the kitchen or asleep in their bed. He was safe. And so wasshe. It was time to get back to work. Something about that last instructionclicked. Jessie’s eyes cleared, followed quickly by her mind.
She focused in on the victim. It was obvious that Gabrielle Crewe hadbeen quite beautiful when she was alive. But now her body, surrounded in a haloof blood, had sunk into the mattress. The tips of her blonde hair were mattedwhere the blood had begun to coagulate. Her unseeing brown eyes stared up atthe ceiling. Her tan skin had started to turn pallid. She was completely naked.
Jessie counted at least three stab wounds to her chest other than theone where the knife was currently embedded. That suggested either a crime ofpassion or that someone wanted to give that impression. Killing a person wasn’tan easy thing for most people.
In her experience, those who planned their murders ahead of time usuallyonly did the minimum necessary to accomplish the task. This was literallyoverkill. She tried to look beyond the blood for any other signs of violence: defensivewounds on the arms or legs, bruising, or unusually contorted limbs.
She found nothing, though there was a splotch of blood on the carpetingat the foot of the bed, suggesting the first wound might have been inflictedwhile she was standing and that she had fallen or been pushed back onto the bed.
That detail hinted that Crewe was somewhat familiar with her attacker.It wasn’t impossible, but it was hard to imagine that an unwanted stranger hadgotten so close to her while she was completely nude without her havingscreamed or struggled.
Jessie felt a pang of sadness. Even after seeing so many dead bodies, mosthad a way of getting to her. This woman had made herself vulnerable beforeanother human being. Her reward was to be brutally cut down by someone shealmost certainly trusted. Just below the sadness, Jessie could feel anotheremotion bubbling up: righteous anger.
Her previous dread about the knife now a memory, Jessie leaned in closeto get a better look at the murder weapon. It was a steak knife, embedded in thewoman’s chest up the heel. It had a plastic handle designed to look like wood. Nowonly inches away, she noticed something curious.
“Do you have a medical examiner on the island?”
“Not officially,” Peters said. “The head of emergency services over atthe medical clinic can handle it in a pinch. But we usually wait for someonefrom the Long Beach medical examiner’s office to come over. My understanding isthat he’s on his way right now. But he didn’t have access to a helicopter sothe boat will be another half hour or so.”
“What about a crime scene team?” she asked, ignoring his barb. Itseemed objectionable to get into an argument with him in the presence of amurder.
“I believe they’re coming on the same boat,” he answered.
“We need to have them pay special attention to this
