Блейк Пирс - The Perfect House

In fact, he was so well regarded that he’d been assigned to a special unit in Robbery-Homicide called Homicide Special Section, or HSS for short. They specialized in high-profile cases that engendered lots of media interest or public scrutiny. That usually meant arsons, murders with multiple victims, murders of notable individuals, and, of course, serial killers.

Beyond his gifts as an investigator, Jessie had to acknowledge that he wasn’t unpleasant to spend time with. The two of them had an easy rapport, as if they’d known each other much longer than six months. On a few occasions at Quantico, when her guard was down, Jessie wondered if things might have been different if they’d met under other circumstances. But at the time, Jessie had still been married and Hernandez and his wife had been together for over six years.

Just then Captain Roy Decker opened his office door and stepped out. Tall, skinny, and almost completely bald save for a few stray hairs, Decker was not yet sixty. But he looked much older than that, with a sallow, lined face that suggested constant stress. His nose came to a sharp point and his small eyes were alert, as if always on the hunt, which Jessie supposed he was.

As he stepped into the bullpen, someone followed him out. It was Ryan. He was just as she’d remembered him. About six feet tall and two hundred pounds with short black hair and brown eyes, he wore a coat and tie that hid what she knew to be a well-muscled frame.

He was thirty years old, young to be a full detective. But he had moved up fast, especially after, as a street officer, he’d helped catch a notorious serial killer named Bolton Crutchfield.

As he and Captain Decker walked out, something his boss said made him break into that warm, easy grin that was so disarming, even to suspects he was questioning. Much to her surprise, the sight of it caused an unexpected reaction in her. Somewhere in her stomach, she got a strange sensation she hadn’t felt in years: butterflies.

Hernandez caught sight of her and waved as the two men walked over. She stood up, annoyed at the unexpected feeling and hoping movement would stifle it. Forcing her brain into professional mode, she tried to discern what they might have been talking about privately based on their expressions. But both men wore masks that suggested they were trying to keep the content of their discussion private. Jessie did notice one thing, however: Ryan looked tired.

“Welcome back, Hunt,” Decker said perfunctorily. “I trust your time in Virginia was illuminating?”

“Very much so, sir,” she replied.

“Excellent. While I would love to hear about the particulars, we’ll have to hold off on that for now, Instead, you’re going to put your new skills to the test right away. You’ve got a case.”

“Sir?” she said, slightly surprised. She assumed he’d want to ease her back in and go over her new duties as a full-time non-interim profiler.

“Hernandez will explain the details to you en route,” Decker said. “The case is a bit sensitive and your services were specifically requested.”

“Really?” Jessie asked, regretting her enthusiasm the moment she said it.

“Really, Hunt,” Decker answered, scowling slightly. “Apparently you’ve developed a bit of a reputation as the Suburbia Whisperer. I can’t go into any more now. Suffice to say, the folks upstairs want this case handled delicately. I expect you’ll keep that in mind as you proceed.”

“Yes sir.”

“All right. We’ll catch up later,” he said. Then he turned and walked off without another word.

Ryan, who hadn’t spoken until then, finally did now.

“Welcome home,” he said. “How are you doing?”

“Not too bad,” she said, ignoring the fluttering sensation that had suddenly returned. “Just getting back into the flow of things, you know?”

“Well, diving right back in should help,” he said. “We’ve got to head out right away.”

“Do I have time to pick up the weapon I requisitioned before I left for Quantico?”

“I checked on that for you earlier this morning,” he said as they began walking through the bullpen. “Unfortunately, there was some kind of bureaucratic screw-up and it hadn’t been processed yet. I resolved the paperwork issue but you probably won’t get your gun until next week. Think you can survive just using your brain as a weapon for a few days?”

He smiled at her but she noticed something she hadn’t picked up on earlier. He had shadows under his eyes, which were a little red.

“Sure,” she said, nodding, trying to keep up with his brisk pace. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Why?” he asked, glancing over at her.

“You just look a little…tired.”

“Yeah,” he said, looking straight ahead again as he talked. “I’ve had a bit of trouble sleeping lately. Shelly and I are getting separated.”

They had been in the car for several minutes before things felt normal again.

Jessie had offered her sympathies back at the station and Ryan had thanked her. But he hadn’t been forthcoming beyond that and she didn’t think that asking any questions was appropriate. And since whatever case they were handling was too sensitive to discuss inside the station, they were reduced to awkward chitchat about her flight back and the perils of supermarket sushi. They were out of rhythm.

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