“It’s everywhere,” she said. “All the radio stations were covering it when I was in the car, even the music ones.”
“I’ll have to check that out later,” he said coolly. “So Jessica, what are you doing in this neighborhood. It’s not exactly USC-adjacent.”
He nodded at her t-shirt.
"Oh, I wasn't coming from there. I actually graduated about a decade ago. I was on my way to meet a girlfriend in Glendale, but the freeway traffic was terrible, so I got off to use surface streets. But I got all turned around and then my car conked out. Super fun afternoon."
“Right,” he said, still guarded. “Hey, what exactly do you do for the city? You look really familiar to me.”
“I do candidate evaluations on behalf of government agencies,” she said, not technically lying. “It’s pretty dry stuff. I doubt that’s how you know me. But a while back I did some TV work. Maybe you’re remembering me from one of the crappy things I acted in?”
“I don’t think so,” he said. “I don’t consume much Hollywood entertainment. It emphasizes minority representation to the exclusion of majority culture. No, I know you from somewhere else.”
As he finished talking, she saw his expression change. Something had clicked for him. Her gut twisted up slightly as she realized: he recognized her.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Jessica,” he said with an uptick in confidence, “is that what you go by? Or did you ever shorten it to Jessie?”
Though it probably wouldn’t matter to Bradford, her given name really was Jessica. She was born Jessica Thurman, daughter of Xander Thurman, a notorious serial killer who claimed her mother—his own wife—among his victims. After the murder, Jessica was relocated to Las Cruces, New Mexico by the Witness Protection Program.
She was adopted by Bruce and Janine Hunt and had her name legally changed to Jessie Madeline Hunt. The middle name was in honor of her murdered birth mother. But she doubted that Bradford cared much about any of that.
“Nope, “ she said, trying to sound casual. “I don’t go in for nicknames. No offense, Tommy.”
“None taken,” he said, an unpleasant grin spreading across his lips.
She felt like things might get out of control at any moment and decided it was time to pull the plug on this experiment
“Oh, hold on,” she said, grabbing her phone. “I just got a text. The auto club is ahead of schedule. They’ll be here any second.”
“But I thought you didn’t feel safe out there,” he said, his grin twisting into an ugly grimace. “Maybe you should wait in here with me until they’re actually here.”
He licked his lips with way more enthusiasm than she found comfortable. He clearly sensed that he had an advantage. The question was what he intended to do with it. She decided the best way to make him stop in his tracks was to drop the pretense.
“Truthfully Tommy, I’m not sure it’s any safer in here right now.”
He took a step toward her.
“Maybe it’s not,” he agreed, licking his lips again.
Jessie tried to remain calm, reminding herself that any halfway normal person who knew she was an LAPD profiler wouldn’t do anything stupid. Then again, Bradford was far from a normal person. Whether he was a murderer or just a racist with delusions of grandeur, she didn’t want to take any chances.
“In that case, maybe I should reach out to my friend,” she said.
“Your girlfriend in Glendale?” he mocked, taking another step toward her. “It might take her a while to get here.”
“No. I was thinking of the detective standing outside.”
Bradford’s twisted smile disappeared. She didn’t wait to see what he would do next.
“Sam, I could use some help in here!”
They both turned to face the door. Three seconds later, it smashed open, slamming against the wall. The top hinge snapped off completely while the bottom one hung on precariously. Sam stood in the doorway with his gun drawn.
“Hands up!” he barked at Bradford, who quickly complied. Then he turned his attention to Jessie. “You okay?”
“I am now,” she said, “but before you arrived, he threatened my safety.”
