CHAPTER NINETEEN
As she got in the taxi, Jessie called Pa for the fourth time.
“LAX,” she barked at the cab driver as she listened to the endless ringing. After a minute, she gave up and tried her mom again for what had to be the third or fourth time. When she got no answer, she tried the home phone again. She’d lost track of how many times she’d called that number without success.
She scrolled through her contacts, looking for the management office of the condo complex or one of Pa’s retiree buddies. But she couldn’t find any and her fingers were shaking. Finally she gave up and just called the Las Cruces FBI field office.
She had to go through a seemingly endless phone tree to reach a live person. When she finally did, she identified herself as being an LAPD profiler rather than a wo
