Gabby closed her eyes tight but it didn’t help. The image of Claire, helpless and limp in the bathroom only feet away, was burned into her mind.

CHAPTER THREE

The marshal was being an asshole. All Jessie wanted was to go for a jog. He kept using the phrase “not advisable,” which really mean “not allowed.” He pointed to the treadmill in the corner of the living room as if that should answer all her concerns.

“But I need some fresh air,” she said, aware that she sounded borderline whiny.

The marshal, known only to her as Murph, was not the chattiest guy ever, a frustrating trait since he was the primary duty agent in her security detail. Short and trim with light brown hair that looked like it was cut weekly, he seemed content to avoid speaking at all if possible. As if to prove it, he nodded at the backyard in response. Jessie tried to recall if he was one of the marshals murdered in last night’s nightmare, part of her wishing it had been.

The truth was Jessie didn’t really just need fresh air or a jog. She wanted to visit the local hospitals again to see if anyone matching her father’s description had shown up since the last time she checked, before she was placed in the safe house. Her sometime partner, Detective Ryan Hernandez, was supposed to be keeping her looped in on that. But since she hadn’t been able to reach out to anyone lately, including him, she had no idea if he’d met with any success.

Jessie was pretty sure the marshal knew her true intentions but that didn’t make her any less annoyed. She was going stir-crazy cooped up in this house. And though she knew she was being kept here for her own protection, she’d reached the limits of her patience, especially after last night’s dream. She decided something had to change. And there was only one way to make that happen.

“I want to see Captain Decker,” she said firmly.

The marshal seemed reluctant to respond, hoping he could ignore this demand as he had all the others. But of course, he couldn’t. Jessie couldn’t force them to let her go on a walk or make a trip to the grocery store. But if she made a formal request to see her supervisor and it could be accommodated safely, the service was required to do so.

Slowly, and with a scowl, the marshal raised his hand and spoke into the communication device connected to his wrist.

“Jabberjay requests an authorized sit-down. Please advise.”

As Jessie waited for the response, she stayed quiet, choosing not to comment on the less-than-endearing code name she’d apparently been assigned.

*

Ninety minutes later she sat in a small conference room in a quiet corner of Central Community Police Station in downtown Los Angeles, waiting for Captain Decker to join her. The marshal named Murph, who had accompanied her here from the house, stood in the back of the room, clearly still annoyed at having to be there.