She grew quiet at the realization of what almost happened to her. The sound of sirens fast approaching filled the air.
“Better call it in,” Jessie advised, hoping to help the young cop snap out of her own head and avoid the kind of emotional spiral she knew all too well. “We don’t want to get accidentally shot when we’ve got the guy in custody.”
While Shaw did that, Ryan leaned in close and whispered to her.
“How are you really doing? You look like you want to scream louder than Cunningham is.”
“Let’s just say I may allow myself an extra pain pill tonight, but not just yet. I need to stay clear-headed when we question this guy. I want to be the one to get him to confess to killing Garland. I owe him that.”
She wanted to say more but suddenly the full weight of what had just happened—the sprint up the stairs, the feel of her back slamming into the floor, the ache in her throat—all hit her at once.
“Can you help me to the bathroom?” she asked quietly. “I think I’m going to throw up.”
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
Everything throbbed.
Jessie was still in serious discomfort, but the nausea had passed. As she sat in the MBPD interrogation room, listening to Ryan read Pierce Cunningham his Miranda rights, she felt a renewed sense of purpose and strength. She couldn’t bring Garland Moses back. But she could at least nail his killer so that he might have some measure of peace when he was laid to rest in less than two days.
She sat quietly as Cunningham agreed to waive his right to counsel and began answering Ryan’s questions about the murders. He was forthright, sounding alternately defeated and proud as he relived the particulars of the attacks on both Priscilla Barton and Kelly Martindale. No question went unanswered. No detail was too small to share.
When Ryan was satisfied that he had what he needed, he nodded at Jessie. She delicately got to her feet and leaned over the table between her and the suspect, staring at him silently. His broken nose was bandaged but some blood was still seeping through it. He already had dark shadows developing under his eyes, which were red from where Jessie had punched him repeatedly. Ryan had assured him that they’d take him to the hospital to get checked out once he had answered all questions to their satisfaction. It didn’t seem to occur to the man to press the issue.
“Despite the intimacy of our earlier interaction,” she began, “we haven’t been properly introduced, Mr. Cunningham. My name is Jessie Hunt. I’m a criminal profiler for the LAPD. Do you know what that means?”
“Serial killers and stuff,” Cunningham said, expressing inappropriate pride in his answer.
“That’s right, at least partly. My job is to get into the minds of criminals to try to understand why they do what they do in order to better determine how to stop them. And I think I’m pretty good at it. But you know who was better?”
Cunningham shook his head, clearly perplexed as to where this was heading.
“Garland Moses,” she said evenly.
“Who’s that?” he asked disinterestedly.
Jessie promised herself that she would not lose it, as she had with Hemsley. She had to stay cool, for Garland’s sake.
“That’s the man you murdered on Tuesday night, Pierce,” she said, switching to his first name.
“What?”
“Surely you remember the elderly man you strangled with a belt barely twenty-four hours ago, Pierce,” she said, surprised at how composed she sounded. “My question for you isn’t how, though. We know that. My question is why? I can’t figure it out. Was it just bad timing or does your choking fetish extend to old Jewish men with bifocals and worn-out slacks?”
Cunningham looked at her, bewildered, before turning to Ryan.
“Is this some kind of joke?” he asked. “Is she trying to mess with my head?”
“It’s not a joke,” Ryan said calmly. “Answer her question.”
Cunningham looked back at Jessie, still apparently befuddled.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, lady. I didn’t kill any old man.”
Jessie stood up straight, partly to give her back a break and partly to keep herself from leaping at the guy. The control she’d felt earlier was starting to slip away. When she felt calm enough to continue, she replied in a soft, cold voice.
“You just gave us every bit of minutiae on the other murders. Why hold back now? Unburden yourself, Pierce, You’ll feel better.”
“Listen,” Cunningham said, leaning in himself now. “I don’t have any problem getting