head, a very few unruly wisps of gray hair clung desperately to his scalp.
Despite all that, he was still somehow formidable. He wore a crisply starched suit and tie, as if he was about to walk into a Fortune 500 company boardroom. His prominent nose twitched slightly, as if actually smelling evidence at that very moment. And his beady, hawklike eyes bored into her, taking stock of her with just one glance.
“Good to see you, Hunt,” he said. “Thanks for coming in. I know Trembley here was glad when I told him.”
Jessie glanced over at Detective Alan Trembley, who was just getting up from the worn-out couch along the wall. Even though they’d both started working at Central Station around the same time two years ago, Jessie couldn’t help but think of him as a rookie. Maybe that was just because he seemed so inexperienced in comparison to Ryan. Or maybe it was because he looked like a full-sized man-child.
Trembley was twenty-nine, only a year younger than Jessie, but he looked like he might still be in college. His curly blond hair was unruly, his glasses were smudged, and his sports coat looked at least two sizes too big, as if he’d borrowed it from his dad. As he stood up, he nervously half-stumbled on his scuffed loafers.
“Hey, Jessie,” he said with a sheepish smile. “Appreciate you helping out.”
“How’s it going, Trembley?” she asked.
“Oh, you know, bananas as usual.”
“Right,” she said, returning her attention to Decker. “So before we go any further, I just want to be clear. I came to hear you out. I’m not making any commitment here. Just so we’re all on the same page.”
Decker nodded.
“I wouldn’t have asked at all but we’re up against it. The entire HSS unit, save for Trembley, is already tied up with other cases. Detective Reid is dealing with two bodies found in L.A. State Park. It looks like they were cut up and the body parts crudely buried all over the area. So that’s fun.”
Jessie said nothing, getting the distinct sense that he wasn’t done. She was right.
“Detective Pointer is handling a spree killing near L.A. Live,” he continued. “With Hernandez indisposed, we even pulled Parker over from Vice to help her out. And with Moses’s passing and your departure, we have a request in for a profiler from another division to help out. We haven’t heard back yet. But to be honest, after having you and Moses at our disposal, I’m not all that excited to bring in the B-team.”
“Understood,” Jessie replied, refusing to be guilted into promising anything. “So what’s the case?”
“I’m going to give you the short version,” Decker answered. “That’s because even though a detective team from Hollywood Station is already on the scene, the folks there are demanding HSS take over.”
“The folks there are demanding?” Jessie repeated incredulously. “I thought you decided what cases Special Section took on.”
“I would have taken this case even if we weren’t asked,” he assured her. “Here’s why: the victim is the actress Corinne Weatherly. Are you familiar with her?”
Jessie searched her memory.
“I know who she is but I can’t say that I’m all that familiar with her work; maybe one or two movies.”
“Trembley can fill you in on that on the way over, assuming you sign on. But it appears she was killed—strangled—on the Sovereign Studios lot sometime last night after she wrapped shooting for the day on a movie. She was only found this morning. Initial indications are that she was killed in her trailer and then moved to the prop department. Apparently when the head moulage artist discovered the body, he didn’t even realize it was real at first. Weatherly was shooting a horror film and the department was littered with fake dead bodies. You can imagine how freaked out he was once he figured out she was both real and dead.”
“What’s a moulage artist?” Jessie said.
Trembley stepped in.
“It’s the name for a special effects and makeup person who makes fake wounds and gore look realistic.”
“Okay,” she said, wincing. “Sounds disgusting.”
Trembley looked surprised by her response.
“It’s hard to believe that a criminal profiler who deals with real-life brutality would be so grossed out by someone who creates fake injuries,” he noted.
“Touché, Trembley,” Jessie said.
“Regardless,” Decker interrupted impatiently, “the studio executives are making a fuss. Word is already starting to leak out about who the victim is and they want to be able to tell the public that LAPD’s most specialized homicide unit is handling the situation. That’s