PART ONE

Chapter Three

One week after Jessica Stanley was found brutally murdered inside The Grand LaPush's Room 2916, Detectives Uley and Black returned to the scene of the crime. They purposely made sure to arrive early – half past six – to avoid running any nosy hotel guests, coworkers, journalists, or worse, truth crime enthusiasts.

Since Room 2916 still contained an active crime scene, access to the presidential suite was restricted to authorized personnel. The suite's main door was blocked off with mounds of caution tape with a uniformed officer (usually, a poor rookie) standing guard around the clock.

This morning's unlucky soul was Officer Jared Cameron, a baby-faced rookie assigned to the 17th District. Leah had only met the guy a few times, but from all accounts, Cameron was relatively unproblematic, a goofball with a knack for getting things done the unconventional way. Cameron's creativity might have been appreciated in another life, but being that he was assigned to a unit led by a disillusioned sergeant, a disinterested lieutenant, and an irritable captain, his "creativity" tended to result in strongly worded conversations and lackluster assignments.

Like the one Cameron was currently serving.

Jacob, who knew Cameron well and might have (as he claimed) reluctantly adopted him as his mentor, greeted the younger cop with a playful punch to the shoulder. "Security duty?" he jested. "Who did you manage to piss off this time?"

Leah quietly snickered behind her scarf as she handed Cameron a brown paper bag and a cup of coffee.

Soon after mouthing thanks, Cameron brought the wrapped sausage and egg with extra ketchup on a biscuit to his nose and deeply inhaled. "You don't know much I needed this," he said with a dopey smile as he pulled back the foil. "You have no idea."

"Thank you for not answering my question," Jacob snarked.

"No one, I swear." The younger cop took a large bite. "I didn't do anything," he insisted between chews. "I did my job. Caught the bad guy. Did everything by the book. And instead of receiving praise, I'm stuck here for the next week. Playing security guard."

Leah had a feeling that there was more to the story. However, she couldn't recall hearing any rumors about Cameron getting disciplined (which, despite so-called efforts, would've never remained quiet), so that was a plus.

"How long you've been here?" she asked.

"Since four." Cameron took another bite from the sandwich before re-wrapping it. He grabbed his coffee, pulling back the lip tab. "I guess it's not too bad. I'm halfway done with my shift."

"That's a good way to think about it," Jacob remarked.

"Yeah, but I like being on the beat, kicking ass, taking names, and the whole nine yards, but what you're gonna do?" Cameron quickly gulped down most of the caffeinated drink. "It's been quiet around here. No one wants to be around a room associated with the Dahlia. Apparently, some people have reported ghost sightings."

Of course, they had.

"Any ghost hunters hanging around here?"

Jared shrugged. "None that I've seen," he said. "As much I hate to say this: having someone stand around 24/7 has scared off a bunch of people. Now, of course, let's what happens when the bosses stop assigning people here."

Jacob removed his cap and ran a hand over his head before putting the headgear back on. "And when is that going to be?"

Cameron shrugged. "It depends," he said, giving the detectives a pointed look.

It depended on the detectives' progress.

"We're working on it," Leah said.

"Well…" Trailing off, Cameron looked down both sides of the hallway. He took a step forward, standing only a foot away from the detectives. "Hey, is it true?" he asked, voice dropping to a whisper. "I heard the bite did her in."

Leah tried to keep her expression neutral, while Jacob did nothing of the sort. "And where did you hear that from?" he sharply asked.

Cameron gave a half-shrug. "Where else?"

Leah knew this would happen. She told Jacob this would happen. Of course, the unit-that-technically-didn't-exist-because-the-supernatural-technically-didn't-exist got wind of Jessica's likely fate.

Jacob huffed. "They got nothing to do with this."

"Not yet," Cameron sang, giving Jacob a knowing look; it was, as expected, met with a glare. The young cop wasn't too fazed. "I think it's in the cards, dude."

"And how would you know?" Jacob challenged. "You just started this damn job."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know I'm only a rook, but I'm a rook who knows people," Cameron said with a smirk. "I got connections, and I always keep my eyes and ears open."

Jacob rolled his eyes. "Move aside, Jared."

Cameron put up his hands and took a step back. "I'm just telling you what I've heard." He turned around to unlock the door, completely missing the stern (and perhaps a little apprehensive) look Jacob directed at him. "Thanks again for the grub," he said as the detectives walked past him and entered the room. "I'll let y'all know if something or someone pops up."

The moment Leah walked inside Room 2916, she was hit with a whiff of stale air and the stench of cleaning products. She wrinkled her nose as she took another step. The room should've been aired out, Leah thought, there was –

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Jacob nearly coughing up a lung.

Leah quickly turned around, alarmed as she saw Jacob kneeling over with hands on his knees, still hacking. She approached him, holding out a steady hand. "Are you okay? Do you want to…?"

Jacob shook his head and stood up tall. He let out a couple of more coughs before rolling his shoulders. He took a deep breath. "Do you think they used enough Lysol?" He complained with his nose wrinkling in discomfort. "Damn. Sorry. I didn't expect to get hit like that."

Personally, Leah didn't think the smell was all that bad; it was more annoying than anything, but – She briefly closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. Oh, right. Jacob. Shit, yeah, she could see how the smell would be a nuisance to Jacob's sensitive nose.

Jacob gave a dismissive wave. "Nah, I'm good," he insisted. "At least, we now know this place's been sanitized."

And sanitized, the suite certainly was.

Thankfully, the cleaning crew (made entirely of CSIs, and not the hotel maid staff, despite the hotel manager's protests) had made a concerted effort not to move a thing, except for the victim's body, whose resting place was outlined on the carpet with tape.

Despite the room's pristine condition, Leah's image from that night was crystal clear; she could still see her. Everything. spatter. The pool of blood. The smile. What was left of Jessica Ashley Stanley. Such a pretty woman, lying in pieces on the lush crème and black carpeted floor with her dark eye-shadow and scarlet red lipstick. Her penciled-in light brown eyebrows. The diamond studs in her ears. Her green, sleeveless sequin mini dress strewn across the bed. The –

"Can't get that image out of your mind, huh?"

Leah stared at the floor with a frown. There wasn't enough cleaning in the world that could erase her memory of that night. "I don't think it'll ever go away," she admitted, looking up at her partner. "You?"

"Same," Jacob said. He dug into his pocket and pulled out some gloves; he tossed a pair to his thankful partner. "I see it, see her. Every night. And the smell." He crouched to the ground and ran his fingers through the carpet, looking for anything the team could've missed. "Every time I pass this damned place."

Leah gave a nod before she began her inspection of the suite; she eventually stopped under the threshold of the master bedroom; the position gave her a direct view of the suite's front door. She leaned against the door frame and crossed her arms. "No signs of a break-in," she told Jacob, glancing over her shoulder. She turned around. "I think it's safe to say that Jessica knew her killer enough to let him inside without a commotion."

Jacob sat up on his knees. "Unless the perp was too fast before a commotion could begin."

"Vampires are known for their superhuman speed?" Leah wondered. Admittedly, she never had much interest in vampire (or supernatural) lore until Jacob had dropped the bomb on her back in December. "I mean, since it was a bite that most likely killed Jessica, I suppose we can assume that it was done by a vampire?"

"Yeah, most likely." Jacob rose to his feet. "And yes, vamps are known for their speed."

"So, a vampire she knew…"

"What are you thinking?"

"Even if he was too fast for her, there are no signs of anything. No reports of shouting. No reports of anything breaking," Leah pointed out. "The Cullens and the Denalis are known for being involved in illicit business ventures, right? She was likely working for them, right?" Jacob nodded. "Maybe this whole thing was a botched deal?"

"Drugs aren't their thing."

"Arms, then?" Leah rubbed her hands together. "Anything else?"

"Prostitution?" Jacob tried, crossing his arms. "Maybe that's a stretch. I've never heard of them being involved in vice."

"Maybe she was a freelancer?"

"Yeah, maybe." Jacob loosened his arms before crossing them again. "The dress found on the bed… it looked like something a lady would wear on a date, right?"

"It was a nice dress," Leah said. "Funny how we couldn't find any shoes."

"Maybe the perp had a shoe fetish?" Jacob offered with a snicker; perhaps, the remark was a bit tasteless considering the topic involved a mutilated murder victim, but Leah snickered long with him. "What's the name of that serial killer who liked to collect women's shoes?"

"Ed Kemper."

Jacob snapped his fingers. "That's the one."

"Unfortunately, I don't think we're dealing with a serial killer," Leah said. Not to say that she would rather deal with a serial killer. "This was a hit." She was sure of it. "What about the Volturi?"

Jacob's eyes widened in alarm.

"Here me out: don't they hate each other?" Leah reasoned. Her knowledge of Volturi and the other covens might not be anywhere near the level of Jacob's, but everyone with a badge knew about the beef between the Volturi and the Cullens and Denalis. "Maybe killing Jessica was a way to get back at the Cullens and the Denalis? Maybe they had Felix and Santiago to send a message?"

"The Olympic."

Leah blinked. "What?"

"Back in the seventies, the Cullen and the Denali families decided to join forces and form the Olympic coven," Jacob explained, and then, "Maybe you're onto something, but… No offense, I can't picture Jessica being some high-ranking member or closely associated with those families." There was a pause. "And anyway, without any struggle?"

"Vampires are fast."

"Yeah, but…" Jacob rubbed his chin. "I just can't see them doing this. Gore is not their style. Felix and Santiago are expert hitmen. They do their business – quick and clean – then go right on to the next one. I can't imagine them spending time to mutilate someone like that. And as far as we know, neither has a medical background nor was a butcher in their past lives."

Swan and Yorkie had determined that whoever bisected Jessica Stanley had done so with expert hands.

Just like the Black Dahlia.

"I suppose."

Leah still had her doubts, but she didn't say anything else while she continued her sweep around the room. She would only stop when she received a flurry of text messages from her personal phone.

The most recent one was from her mother, confirming the time of their brunch date this weekend: Will be there.

Another text from Seth, beginning to tag along to watch the newest Marvel movie; Leah was becoming a bit tired of superhero movies, but: Sure.

A third one came from Aisha St. Pierre, a fellow detective from Leah's time in Special Victims and now, essentially her dear friend turned new best friend since Emily was now out of the picture: Yes, we definitely will talk.

The last text was from Sam.

Never mind, he texted.

Leah read the message; it wasn't anything special, but it still stung. It was a simple text message, but she could hear the disappointment behind the two words. She wanted not to care. She wanted to tell him she didn't care.

She wanted to text him back: Fuck you and your feelings.

Instead, she texted: Sorry. Working.

He should be the one saying sorry.

"Everything's okay?"

Leah looked over at Jacob. It was funny (perhaps, a bit worrisome); she had always been known for her ability to hide her emotions (besides anger, some idiots would say). Unfortunately, Jacob could see right through her.

She quickly pocketed her phone. "I'm good."

Jacob wasn't convinced, but thankfully, he decided not to press the issue. "Well, we'll have the opportunity to get more information this afternoon," he said instead. "When we meet up with Jessica's roommate. She must know something."

Later that day, the detectives visited the home of Jessica Stanley for an interview with her roommate, Lauren Mallory, who had finally returned from Los Angeles two days ago. Although Mallory wasn't considered a suspect or even a person of interest, the detectives hoped and prayed they would get some answers from her.

Jessica Stanley and Lauren Mallory lived in a one-bedroom condo, situated along a row of similar shoreside lodgings on Sheridan Road in the northside neighborhood of Edgewater. Not within Lincoln Park, as provided on Jessica's driver's license.

"It's a nice place for a couple of waitresses, huh?" Jacob whispered to Leah before the apartment door opened, revealing a young, attractive woman dressed in gray athleisure attire. Mid-twenties. Average height with blond hair. She appeared friendly enough, but a bit apprehensive since there were two detectives at her front door.

To ease the young woman's nerves, Jacob gave a polite smile and greeting in a calming, smooth voice, "Good afternoon, Miss Mallory."

The detectives had reached out to Mallory the day before. Ideally, they would have loved to speak to the woman right after identifying the Dahlia as Jessica Stanley, but they both figured engaging in a conversation face-to-face trumped having one over the phone.

From the very beginning, Mallory assured the detectives that she was ready and willing to cooperate with the investigation. Like Angela Weber and Tyler Crowley, Mallory maintained she had nothing to hide and hoped for Jessica's killer's swift capture and punishment.

Whether that was indeed true was up for debate.

"Good afternoon," Mallory returned with a bashful smile. "And please, call me Lauren."

Following the usual introductions, Lauren led the detectives inside. The condo was a decent-sized one-bedroom apartment, owned by Lauren's parents. The place was almost paid off, Lauren explained, which was the only reason why she was able to afford such a place on her and Jessica's wages.

"I apologize for the mess," Lauren said sheepishly. The place could use some tidying up, but it was nowhere near being a mess. "It's been…" She pressed a hand against her forehead. "It's been a lot."

Leah could only imagine.

"It's not a problem," she politely insisted with Jacob nodding by her side. "Not a problem at all. Thank you for agreeing to speak with us."

Lauren gave a small smile that didn't meet her eyes before ushering the detectives into the living room. She offered the guests a seat on the sofa while she sat on the love seat; a small table separated her from the detectives.

"As we mentioned over the phone," Jacob began, bringing out his notepad and pen. "We would like to ask some questions about your roommate, learn about her, and whatnot... if that's still alright with you?"

"It's still alright," Lauren said, crossing her legs; she folded her hands over her right knee. "I know how this goes. I've seen enough cop shows." She cleared her throat, eyes downcast. "I feel terrible for not doing anything," her voice was small, "I just… I can't believe she's gone."

The detectives offered their condolences.

"How long you've known Jessica?" Jacob asked.

"A couple of years."

Leah uncapped her pen. "You two were close?"

"As close as friends could be," Lauren said before quickly adding, "We were friends. Sort of." From close friends to sort of friends? Interesting. "We liked each other. But not like best friends."

"When was the last time you saw her?" Jacob asked.

"That evening. On her birthday. Right before I headed to work. We usually work the same shifts, so we usually drive to work together. But that morning?" She shook her head, twiddling with her thumbs. "Since it was her birthday, she didn't have to work. She was making breakfast when I left for my flight."

"What time?"

"A quarter to eight, give or take."

"Did she tell you about her plans for that night?"

"Yeah, she mentioned something about meeting up with this guy." Lauren bit her lip and furrowed her eyebrows together as if she was trying to conjure a memory. She ended up shaking her head before carrying on, "The name escapes me, but she said she was going to meet up with him at some bar downtown."

Leah flipped to a fresh page in her notepad and scribbled down one word: Guy. She double-underlined the word. There was a guy. There was a guy. It didn't sound like much, might end up being nothing, but there was a guy. Another person. Perhaps the last person to see Jessica alive.

"Got a name of the bar?"

Lauren shook her head.

"And what time was she planning to arrive?"

"Not sure." Lauren bit her lip again. "Perhaps during Happy Hour?"

Between 5:00pm and 7:00pm, not long before Jessica's estimated time of death.

"Did she say anything else about the guy she was meeting up with?"

"Not much," Lauren admitted. "All I know was that he was Russian and was a model… Something about him booking a runway show for a Fashion Week in Europe…" she trailed off with a shrug.

A model? So, the man had to be young, likely in his twenties, and attractive enough for the fashion world. Tall enough with the right body type. Perhaps on the leaner side, if he were walking in Fashion Week.

"Did she have any other plans?" Leah asked.

"She didn't say much," Lauren said. "Look, all I know was that she was going to hang out downtown and spend the night at LaPush."

"Did she plan on coming back home?"

Lauren gave Leah an odd look. "Yeah, I would… assume so?" She tightly crossed her arms. "We had to work the next day. She had classes to attend."

"About this hotel, The Grand LaPush…"

Lauren relaxed her arms. "She loved LaPush. She said she used to stay at the Waldorf Astoria right off Rush Street, but then she was invited to some birthday party over at LaPush and fell in love with the place." She gave a half-shrug. "You see, she loved staying downtown. Always wanted to live down there, so I guess she spent time at LaPush to live out her fantasy?"

Leah gave a solemn nod; she pitied the poor woman.

So, Lauren's statement might explain why the hotel had been reserved under Jessica's name. However, not much else was resolved. Specifically, how on Earth could a waitress routinely afford to stay at a luxury hotel and reside in a room that cost, on average, seven hundred dollars a night?

"For herself?" Jacob asked, seemingly reading Leah's mind. "She books a room at LaPush for herself? No one else? Did anyone else foot the bill?"

According to the hotel records, the notorious suite had been registered under the name Jessica Ashley Stanley, and it had been fully paid in cash at check-in with no record of credit or debit card saved in the hotel's system. Interesting, since Leah was under the impression that all hotels requested a card at check-in, especially a place like The Grand LaPush.

Lauren shrugged. "I try not to pry," she said, "but you got to understand, Jessica was… Jessica had, uh… known for being adventurous. I guess it was a birthday gift to herself or whatever. January 15th was her birthday; she turned twenty-four." She let out a dry scoff. "Isn't that something?"

"What about Jessica's personal life?" Leah asked. "Was she close with her family? Was she in a relationship?"

"She never mentioned her family," Lauren said, "and in terms of being in a relationship?" She laughed, then apologized before explaining, "She was never the relationship type. She talked to some guys, but it's been radio silence for the past month or so."

"Would you happen to know any of the guys she was talking to?"

After informing the detectives that she unfortunately didn't have any names or much of anything else, Lauren rose from the couch. She looked around the living room before resting her eyes on the detectives. "I guess you want to see her stuff?" she offered.

The detectives accepted the offer. Why wouldn't they? They technically didn't have a warrant for this wasn't that kind of visit. They were only here to ask preliminary questions, but since Lauren had been the one to make the offer first, they supposed their captain couldn't scold them.

Leah and Jacob remained silent as Lauren led them into the bedroom. The room wasn't anything special, just a medium-sized bedroom furnished with two twin-sized beds, two dressers, and two large closets. One of them was slightly opened, conveniently the one labeled as Jess.

"Do you mind?" Leah asked Lauren.

"Go right ahead."

The detective pulled on a pair of leather gloves, wishing she had brought a pair of latex ones. She then carefully pulled back the mirrored sliding door to the closet and peered inside. It was cluttered, more from the number of items – clothes, shoes, books, and designer bags – squeezed inside the confined space rather than from Jessica being a slob.

Leah bent down and picked up a pair of stilettos. Crystal-studded red bottoms. Louboutin's. She looked to her right, only to find a few more pairs in different colors. She then carefully returned the shoes and rose to her feet.

"Your roommate had quite the taste," Leah remarked as she checked the tags on some of the clothing hanging on hangers. Gucci. Fendi. Chanel. Yves Saint Laurent. Jessica's closest was quite honestly made up of someone's salary. Hell, maybe doubled that.

"She was a bit of a shopaholic," Lauren said. Leah could hear the other woman rolling her eyes behind her. Hm. "She only wore name-brands."

"If you don't mind me asking," Jacob started as he watched Leah holding up a bright pink Hermès purse with her gloved hand. "You both worked at the same diner, right?"

Lauren nodded.

"What's the pay like?"

Certainly not enough for all of these designer items, Leah thought as she returned the expensive bag to its rightful place. She had seen that exact bag before online and thought it would've been a perfect birthday gift for a cousin. It was a beautiful, well-crafted purse, but not for the 20-stacks she didn't have.

Leah carried on with her inspection, wondering how someone with a limited income, horrible credit, maxed-out credit cards with modest limits, and non-existent savings could afford a closet full of luxury items – Or, perhaps, she didn't have to? Perhaps these were all gifts from a wealthy benefactor?

Either way, it didn't look good.

"We're waitresses," Lauren said. "It depends on the time and the people."

Another search warrant would've been ideal at this moment; the look Jacob sent Leah when Lauren turned her attention elsewhere said the same thing. Yes, they most definitely needed a search warrant; funny, how the items in the closets weren't mentioned during the last search. Unfortunately, she had Jacob hadn't been on the last search – Morris' orders due to an ill-timed court appearance.

"Did Jessica have any other means?" Leah asked.

"As in money?"

"Yes."

Lauren hesitated to answer. "I don't know for sure," she quietly replied, flinching under Leah's piercing gaze. "I've never asked her about her money. She paid half the bills with no problem, so I never needed to bother her. Maybe she was getting an allowance from some long-lost rich relatives?" She paused. "Or maybe… now, this is gonna sound bad because Jessica was a great girl, but I think she was involved with… things. People."

The detectives' eyes met for a split second.

Lauren quickly looked from one cop to the other. With her eyes growing wide, she put up both hands. "Oh no, I didn't mean like that," she insisted, feverishly shaking her head. "It's just that…" She took a deep breath. "I think she was, you know, something like a sugar baby."

Leah raised an eyebrow. "A sugar… baby?"

"Yeah, like someone who goes out with another in return for something. Like money, expensive gifts. Whatever's the price for the company," Lauren quickly explained, rubbing her arms. She was nervous, almost to the point of being petrified. "That would explain the designer bags and the jewelry… I guess?"

"Jewelry?"

"Let me show you," Lauren offered. She went to Jessica's dresser, opened the top drawer, and carefully pulled out a medium-sized, locked wooden box. "I obviously can't open it," she quietly said, "but I know she kept some more expensive stuff inside here." She ran a hand across the wooden top, almost reverently. "Ever seen Titanic?"

Leah blinked before checking with her partner, who appeared just as confused. "Of course," she tentatively replied. "Yes, of course."

"You remember the necklace Rose wore?"

"The Heart of the Ocean," Jacob quickly answered.

Leah tried not to smile. Of course, he'd know. The man loved that movie.

"Yeah, that's the one," Lauren said. "She has a necklace like that, something like the Heart of the Ocean. But only this one is ruby, not sapphire." She held out the box for the detectives to take. "Here, I have no use for it, especially since it's locked and belongs to a dead person." She looked at the container, rather apprehensive. "Not trying to get haunted, thank you."

The detectives declined, both wishing they had asked for another search warrant before arriving at the condo.

"You can put it back," Leah told Lauren. If everything worked out, the detectives would get their hands on that box and the key sooner rather than later. "Thank you. We'll keep in touch."

Lauen was considered a "Person of Interest."

Not necessarily because the detectives thought Lauren had a hand in her roommate's murder, but because they both had a strong, sinking feeling she was withholding some rather pertinent information.