The Perfect Neighbor (Jessie Hunt #9) - Blake Pierce Page 0,83

Bureau would leak that he was doing so anyway. They would thank him for his assistance in foiling Kyle Voss’s plot and sharing the cartel’s plans in the U.S. The only way they would not leak this falsehood was if it became a fact. Otherwise, Dolan told him, he was essentially a dead man walking.

Facing that possibility, Rick, whose real name was Esteban Huerta, broke. Over the course of a fourteen-hour interrogation session led by Dolan and some colleagues at the DEA, Huerta gave them the particulars on how Kyle managed to secretly escape in order to attack Garland and Ryan. He also revealed the cartel’s plan to have Kyle reestablish himself in the finance community and eventually launder their money through the charitable foundation he’d established to help wrongly convicted prisoners.

Huerta agreed to become a double agent of sorts. Once Kyle Voss’s death became public, the FBI would come up with a cover story that kept him out of it. When he was recalled to Monterrey, he was to try to rise within the organization, all the while feeding a designated DEA handler with regular information on the cartel. Jessie was glad that there would be at least one positive outcome owing to Kyle’s release from prison.

She handed the key to the guard at the security desk, who smiled and nodded but said nothing. She didn’t blame him. What could he possibly say?

As she delicately made her way back down the stairs and out of the lobby to the car where Kat and Hannah waited, she reminded herself that there was one other bit of good news. It was related to Barnard Hemsley, the slovenly, coked-up divorce attorney who had made their lives so difficult.

Considering what happened to Ryan later that night, the Manhattan Beach district attorney decided it would look bad to drop charges against a man accused of assaulting a decorated detective, even if that assault amounted to poking a finger in his chest. As a result, Hemsley had an upcoming court date, as a well as a hearing before the California Bar Association. Jessie offered to be a witness at both proceedings.

Kat hit a bump in the road, bringing Jessie back into the present. She looked around and noticed for the first time that Kat had veered off the normal route to her place.

“This isn’t the way to your apartment,” she said warily.

“Good catch, profiler lady,” Kat relied dryly. “We’re making a pit stop on the way.”

Jessie felt her stomach twist up involuntarily.

“We’re not going there,” she said emphatically.

“Yes, we are,” Kat replied calmly, as if speaking to a stubborn child. “The service starts in twenty minutes. I want to go. Hannah wants to go. You can sit in the car if you want. But we’re going.”

The remainder of the drive took place in silence. When they arrived at Hillside Memorial Park in Culver City, Kat pulled over to the side and spoke to an officer at the gate. He motioned for a colleague to escort them past the endless stream of vehicles to the reserved parking area. Jessie could see a massive crowd walking toward a grave about sixty yards away. They all sat quietly for several seconds before Hannah finally spoke.

“I know they saved seats for us,” she said softly. “I’m going to head over.”

“See you soon, kiddo,” Kat said.

Hannah shut the door and Jessie watched her fall into line with the other mourners, her head down, her shoulders slumped. Jessie noticed that the girl was wearing a lovely, muted, floral dress.

When she put it on this morning, it hadn’t registered that it would be appropriate for either settling in at a new home or attending a funeral. Jessie silently chastised herself for missing the clue before chastising herself a second time for being so hard on herself.

“Okay,” Kat said firmly. “Let’s have it.”

“What do you mean?” Jessie asked irritably, still annoyed with her friend and now confused too.

“I know you’re upset, Jessie, devastated even. And I know that the idea of being here right now seems like more than you can bear. But we also both know that if you don’t go, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. It’ll be another way to pile guilt on yourself and god knows, you’ve already got a mountain’s worth of that. So why are you still in this car and not at that gravesite?”

Jessie sat quietly for a long time, unsure how to respond. But if anybody could understand, it was Kat. She’d

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