Sam shook his head.
“That’s quite a reach. That all happened two decades ago. Why would someone who fights for immigrant women go on an immigrant women murder spree now? I’ve worked with Claire Vallejo for years and she never gave any indication that she was anything other than a passionate, devoted advocate for people without a voice. There are young women that were sexually trafficked who are only alive today because of the help Claire gave me when I worked Vice.”
“I get that, Sam—,” Jessie began but he interrupted.
“Did you ever think that maybe she didn’t mention it because she knew it would look bad and she just didn’t want us questioning her like a suspect? I’m not defending that. I’m just saying it’s understandable.”
“Look,” she said, keeping her tone even so as not to agitate her partner any further. “That may be the case. But we both know that advocacy is born of passion and that passion can sometimes curdle into something darker. We also know that childhood trauma, the kind she suffered, can leave lasting scars that can impact how people behave as adults. What if she saw her mother’s death? What if she saw her father’s? That could have impacted her psyche in ways that only emerged years later.”
Jessie didn’t mention her own experience with this dynamic. In fact, Claire’s personal history felt uncomfortably familiar. As a child, Jessie had watched helplessly as her serial killer father murdered her mom. She too was later adopted by a loving family that gave her a safe place to grow up. She too had become an advocate for victims.
But none of that stopped her from developing a bloodthirsty desire for vengeance. Despite every effort to control it, she killed a woman—stabbed her in the heart. It was legally defensible. The woman was trying to murder her. But Jessie knew the truth. In that moment, it had given her a thrill.
And despite months of efforts to squash those feelings, it was still a constant battle. Even the recent incident with Ash Pierce gave her pause. She hadn’t shot Pierce out of vengeful fury. It was out of practicality. In that desperate moment, it seemed to be the only real way to keep her family safe from the hitwoman.
But she wondered if first opening the door to that bloodlust months ago had made it easier to extinguish Pierce’s life without guilt. She didn’t have the answers but she was sure of one thing. Good works and good intentions didn’t mean a person wasn’t capable of awful things.
Beth coughed nervously, snapping Jessie back into the moment. It was clear that the young researcher wanted to say something but was hesitant to interject herself into Sam and Jessie’s dispute.
“What is it, Beth?” Jamil asked.
“Jessie mentioned that Claire’s ambivalence to wealthy immigrant women could have turned into hostility. I think I might have found a potential explanation for that.”
“What explanation?” Sam asked sharply.
Beth looked startled by his tone but kept going.
“I found a news report from late last week. Svetlana Sanderson Szabo was honored at an event in Budapest for hercharity work with abused Hungarian women. She was presented with a plaque at a giant banquet. It made BBC News. If Claire saw that, maybe it set her off. If she saw that the woman she considered responsible for ruining her life got a major award, could that have made her snap?”
“Yeah,” Devery added, “if she couldn’t punish the woman she blamed, maybe she decided to punish other women like her.”
No one spoke for a few seconds. Eventually Devery continued.
“I think we should go see her.”
“We?” Jessie asked.
“Yes,” he said. “If Claire Vallejo really is the killer, you two should have backup.”
“I thought you were off duty,” Beth noted.
“That’s okay,” he said. “For this, I don’t mind going without getting paid. I feel like I’ve been part of the HSS team on this one. I’m happy to take my own car and follow you guys. But I want to see it through.”
“If you’re going to see her,” Jamil interjected, “I suggest you get going now.”
“Why?” Jessie asked. The urgency in the researcher’s tone gave her a shiver.
“I was looking over more details from the Sanderson murder trial,” he said. “When Svetlana killed Claire’s father, she used a pair of scissors.”
Jessie shot up out of her chair.
“Let’s go!” she barked.
“Where to?” Sam asked standing up as well.
“Claire’s apartment,” Jessie said. “Hopefully we get there before she leaves. Because if she’s not there, and with Priya Kapoor out of the picture, we’re in real trouble. We have no idea who she’ll go after next.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
