“There’s not much time,” Jessie implored him. “Drop it.”

From behind her, Gayle spoke.

“Milt, drop the club. Hate me all you want. But don’t punish our children. They need you. Put it down.”

There was a sudden pounding on the door.

“Police—open the door!”

“Milton,” Jessie said firmly. “You have about ten seconds to drop the club and get on your knees with your hands up. Otherwise those officers will shoot you. I guarantee it.”

“Milt, please!” Gayle begged.

“Open this door now or we will break it down!” came the shout from the front door.

Jerebko seemed to come out of the crazed state he’d been in. He looked down at his hands and then back at Jessie and Gayle.

“Now,” Jessie ordered.

Milton dropped the club.

“Good,” she said. “Now get on your knees with your hands above your head.”

He did as he was told just as the front door was smashed open by a battering ram, which echoed through the house.

“You too, Gayle,” Jessie instructed. “Hurry.”

Gayle slid to her knees.

Jessie nodded her approval, then yelled as loud as she could.

“We’re in here. Suspects are giving up. They are unarmed!”

Then she faced the living room entrance and raised her own hands above her head as a precaution. Seconds later, four uniformed officers burst into the room, all with weapons raised.

“I’m LAPD forensic profiler Jessie Hunt,” she announced to them all. “Both suspects on their knees are turning themselves in. Neither is armed.”

“Identification!” the officer closest to her demanded.

“Getting it now,” she said, slowly moving her right hand to her back pocket.

She had just pulled out her wallet and was preparing to show her ID when Murph walked in with Toomey right behind him. His gun wasn’t out but his hand was resting on his holster. A moment later, Dolan walked in behind them.

“That won’t be necessary,” Murph said emotionlessly. “She is who she says she is. Care to fill us in, Ms. Hunt?”

“Sure,” she said, pretending not to be surprised at the lack of anger in his voice. “This is Gayle Martindale Jerebko. She’s just confessed to the murder of Claire Stanton. That’s Milton Jerebko. He is guilty of…being an asshole. Will we be charging him with anything else today, Gayle?”

Gayle looked at her and then at Milton, who appeared to be crying silently to himself.

“No,” Gayle said slowly. “No, we won’t.”

Jessie nodded as she walked over and kicked the golf club out of Milton’s reach.

“Okay then,” she said. “I think you can take her into custody. She’ll be going to Central Station. Mr. Jerebko, you’ll need to travel to the station separately.”

“Ms. Hunt, may I have a word with you?” Murph said, his tone professional to anyone who wasn’t listening too closely. But she noticed the edge in it.

“Sure,” she said, following him into the kitchen. Toomey and Dolan trailed behind.

“I’m glad to see you’re okay,” Murph said when the four of them were alone in the room. “But as you can imagine, I’m a little disappointed in your lack of communication with the Service prior to your departure.”