Блейк Пирс - The Perfect Wife

“I recommend you return the message, Professor,” Jessie suggested. “It’s possible that it’s a pseudonym, maybe for someone you already know.”

“I’ll do that. In any case, I gather that I won’t have to jump through all the usual bureaucratic hoops to get you authorized to do your practicum at NRD?”

“Doing it there was the specific condition I mentioned earlier. It’s the reason I agreed without much fuss to their non-disclosure agreement,” Jessie told him, unable to keep the excitement out of her voice. “I’ve been waiting almost two years for this.”

“Two years?” Hosta said, surprised. “If you completed your thesis that long ago, shouldn’t you have your degree by now?”

“That’s a long story I’ll have to share some other time. But for now, can I assume I have your authorization do my practicum at DSH-Metro, specifically in NRD?”

“Assuming your story checks out, yes,” he said as they reached his office door. He unlocked it but didn’t invite her in. “But I have to pose the question I raise with any student who requests to do their field work there—are you sure you want to do this?”

“How can you ask me that, given everything I’ve told you?”

“Because it’s one thing to read about the people being held at that facility,” he answered. “It’s quite another to interact with them. It gets real very fast. I gather from the redactions in your thesis that you know about some of the inmates being housed there?”

“A few; I know that the serial rapist from Bakersfield, Delmond Stokes, is being held there. And the multiple child murderer who was captured last year by that retired lady cop is there as well. And I’m pretty sure Bolton Crutchfield is being held there too.”

Hosta stared at her, as if deciding whether or not to say what he was thinking. Finally he seemed to make a decision.

“That’s who you want to observe, isn’t it?”

“I have to admit, I’m curious,” Jessie said. “I’ve heard all kinds of stories about him. I’m not sure how many of them are true.”

“One story I can assure you is true is that he brutally murdered nineteen people over half a dozen years. Whatever else is truth or legend, that is a fact. Don’t ever lose sight of it.”

“Have you met him?” Jessie asked.

“I have. I interviewed him on two occasions.”

“And what was that like?”

“Ms. Hunt, that’s a long story I’ll have to share some other time,” he said, turning her own words back on her. “For now, I will reach out to this Dr. Ranier and check your bona fides. Assuming that goes without incident, I’ll contact you to set up your practicum. I know you’ll want to start soon.”

“I’d go tomorrow if I could.”

“Yes, well, it might take a bit longer than that. In the meantime, try not to bounce off the walls. Good day, Ms. Hunt.”

And with that he shut the door to his office, leaving Jessie in the hall. She turned to leave. Looking around the unfamiliar hallway, she realized she’d been so immersed in the conversation that she hadn’t paid attention to anything else. She had no idea where she was.

She stood there for a moment, imagining herself sitting face to face with Bolton Crutchfield. The thought both excited and terrified her. She had wanted—no, needed—to talk to him for a while now. The possibility that it might soon happen made her tingle with anticipation. She needed answers to questions no one even knew she had. And he was the only one who could provide them. But she wasn’t sure if he would. And even if he was willing, what might he demand in return?

Jessie was so keyed up that she called Kyle on the way home from school, even though she knew he was always crazed during the day and almost never answered. This time was no different but she couldn’t help leaving a message anyway.

“Hey, babe,” she said after the beep. “Just wanted to let you know my first day of class went extremely well. The professor’s a character but I think I can work with him. And I’m hoping to start my practicum soon, maybe this week if everything pans out. I’m actually a little giddy. I hope your day is going well too. I thought I’d make a special dinner for us tonight, especially now that we actually found the boxes with all the pots and pans. Give me your ETA for tonight and I’ll prep something nice. We can open one of those bottles of wine we’ve been saving and maybe get started on expanding our little family unit. Okay, talk soon. I love you.”

She made a stop at Bristol Farms on the way home and splurged on a few branzino fish, which she planned to stuff and cook whole. She found some nice-looking broccolini and grabbed that too. As she was headed to the checkout she saw some fingerling potatoes and snagged them as well.

She was tempted to find something decadent for dessert but knew Kyle had been working out aggressively and wouldn’t have any of it. Besides, they had some Italian ice in the freezer that would work just fine. By the time she checked out, she had the whole menu mapped out in her head.

Jessie stared at the untouched plates of food on the dining room table, then checked her phone for the third time in the last five minutes. It was 7:13 and still nothing from Kyle.

He had texted her soon after she left the voicemail, saying the dinner plan sounded great and he anticipated being home by 6:30 that night. But almost forty-five minutes had passed and he still wasn’t here. Worse, he hadn’t reached out to her at all.

She had set everything up so that dinner would be hot and on the table waiting for him at 6:45, just in case he ran a little late. But he hadn’t shown up. She’d texted him twice and left a voicemail in the intervening time. And still, she’d heard nothing from Kyle since that first text. Now the fish lay on the table, mostly cold, staring back at her with unsympathetic eyes.

Finally, at 7:21, he called. From the noise in the background, she knew even before he spoke that he was at a bar.

“Hey, Jess,” he shouted to be heard over the music. “Sorry for the late call. How are you doing?”

“I was worried about you,” she said, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice.

“Oh, sorry,” he said, sounding only mildly remorseful. “I didn’t mean to worry you. Something came up last minute. Teddy called around six and said he had some more potential clients for me. He asked if I could meet him and these guys at a bar called Sharkie’s in the marina. I figured I can’t really pass up these kinds of opportunities when I’m the new guy in the office, you know?”

“You couldn’t have called to let me know?”

“My bad,” he yelled. “Everything was so rushed that it slipped through the cracks. I was only able to sneak away to call you now.”

“I made a big dinner, Kyle. We were going to celebrate tonight, remember? I opened a hundred-dollar bottle of wine. It was supposed to be a romantic evening.”

“I know,” he said. “But I can’t bail on this. I think I can lock down both of Teddy’s friends as clients. And we can still try a little baby-making when I get home.”

Jessie sighed deeply so that she could keep her voice calm when she responded.

“It’ll be late when you get back,” she said. “I’ll be tired and you’ll be half-drunk. It’s not how I envisioned this going.”

“Listen, Jessie. I’m sorry that I didn’t call. But do you want me to just bail on an opportunity like this? I’m not just doing shots here. I’m conducting business and trying to make a few new friends while I’m at it. Are you going to hold that against me?”

“I guess I’m learning what your priorities are,” she replied.