Look Behind You

by Iris Johansen

  “What?” She gazed at him in surprise. “After that impassioned plea you gave me to save you from Griffin? You even said that you were wrong. Now that’s the only thing that made me give in. You never admit to being wrong. You were conning me?”

  “I never con you. Well, almost never, and it’s always for your own good.” He grimaced. “And, unfortunately, Griffin might have been a little bit right. It’s humiliating to even give him that much. It must have been the poison gas that allowed me to tumble even that far from grace.”

  “I’m sure that must have been it,” she said solemnly. “But now that you’ve recovered you’ve changed your mind about going back?”

  “Not entirely. I’m just thinking about delaying it for a bit.”

  “And what else are we going to do?”

  “I can think of a few things that might remind us of how lucky we are that Zachary blundered this time.” His gaze moved from her face to her throat and then down to linger on her breasts. “You know, you’re almost as fetching in those scrubs as you were in that hospital gown.”

  She felt the muscles of her stomach clench and her breath become shallow. That crazy, erotic moment when he’d come into her bedroom this morning. The feel of his hardness, his hands on her buttocks, lifting. His mouth, taking, giving …

  The heat.

  The dizzying need that was like no other hunger.

  Had it only been this morning?

  “You know that you want to do it.” His voice was softly coaxing. “Why not? Because you’re set on not showing Zachary that I mean anything to you?” He suddenly chuckled. “Hell, if we spend enough time in bed there’s a chance that he’ll only think I’m your boy-toy. No importance at all in the scheme of things. I assure you that I wouldn’t mind that. I can think of all kinds of ways to keep you amused. I think we should start right away.”

  “You’re being ridiculous.”

  “Well, only that I’m no boy. I think you’ll prefer the man I am. But the rest of the concept would work fine.” His smile was warm, amused, and infinitely seductive. “It’s going to happen sometime, Kendra. It might as well be today. You’re going to get very tired of Zachary controlling what you do and who you do it with.”

  “We discussed this before. I thought you’d accepted that I wasn’t going to change my mind.”

  “You thought no such thing.” His smile faded. “You just hoped you’d find a way to save me from the bogeyman. I was trying to take it slow, but that was blown to hell when I saw you lying on the floor gasping for air.”

  “I wasn’t the only one gasping, dammit. That should have taught you something.”

  He was silent. Then his smile was back, along with that charisma that was nearly irresistible. “It taught me not to waste the good times when the bad times might be right around the corner. And that’s what I intend to teach you, Kendra.” He paused. “How about it?”

  Tempting.

  Too tempting.

  She looked away from him and cleared her throat. “I’m not into lessons at the moment. I think we should go right back to the hospital.”

  His grip tensed on the steering wheel and then relaxed. “I was afraid of that,” he said. “Even if only temporary, that winnows our options quite a bit.”

  That intensity had been damped down, she realized with relief. “You know it’s probably for the best. For a multitude of reasons.”

  “Is it? I disagree.” He turned at the light. “But as you wish. Back to square one. No, I refuse to admit that much of a setback. You’re not running from me and that puts me very much in the game…”

  * * *

  THEY’D FOUND THE CAR.

  Zachary smiled from his hilltop vantage point on Torrance Street where he could see the lights and activity around the abandoned construction site that had served him wonderfully well. It was now after midnight, and most of the police and FBI agents had left hours before. The black Toyota Camry had just been rolled into the covered flatbed truck for its journey to the FBI garage in North County.

  They would find nothing, he thought with satisfaction. He’d been at this for years, and he knew how the game was played.

  But there was still that one-in-a-million chance that he’d missed something during his cleanup after depositing Pretty Amanda in front of that elementary school. That tiny sliver of doubt was just enough to make the game exciting.

  Zachary climbed into the white Dodge Durango SUV and drove the short few blocks to the U-Stor-It storage complex on West Valley Parkway. He parked a couple of blocks away to keep his vehicle from being seen by the three security cameras monitoring the complex’s common areas. It was a small facility, with fifty garage-style units surrounding a large concrete plaza. As far as he could tell, most of the units contained boats and RVs.

  Zachary pulled on a pair of latex gloves and climbed out of the Durango. He wrapped a scarf around his nose and mouth in case someone should ever try to scrutinize security video to get a glimpse of the owner of storage unit 132. He walked to the storage facility’s main gate and waved his key card over the sensor. The gate groaned and rattled as it slid open. He walked across the paved lot to his unit, where he unlocked the door and raised it a few feet. He ducked under and pulled it closed behind him.

  He felt for the switch and flipped on the overhead fluorescent lights. The room was almost empty, save for a few plastic storage containers, a stool, and a makeshift desk consisting of a thick piece of plywood resting on two sawhorses.

  His own private artist’s studio. He’d had one in almost every city and they’d each served as a sparse base of operations for his increasingly ambitious projects.

  He opened one of the storage containers and rummaged through his souvenir collection. He’d once carefully organized it with each item neatly filed away with tags marking the names, places, and dates to which the objects belonged. It was no longer necessary; he easily remembered all the information for each souvenir.

  He pulled out a bright red baseball cap that had belonged to David Schneer of Connecticut. The poor fool had hardly put up a fight, not that it would have done him any good. Apparently Schneer wore the cap often, based on the fact that he was wearing it in almost all of the photos of him that appeared in the media in the years since his death.

  Perfect, Zachary thought. He wanted the cap to be quickly and easily recognized when it made its dramatic reappearance on the head of his next victim here in San Diego.

  Because this wasn’t going to be just any victim.

  Zachary smiled. No, this one would shake Kendra Michaels to her very core.

  CHAPTER

  10

  NO SOONER HAD THE words “clean bill of health” been spoken by the doctor than Kendra saw a petite, well-dressed blond woman standing in the doorway of her hospital room. She assumed it was a staff member, but when the doctor left, the woman entered the room with a chrome foldable cart adorned with the Nordstrom department store logo.

  “Good morning, Dr. Michaels. May I come in?”

  “Uh, sure.” Kendra eyed the cart. “Unless you’re here to try and sell me something.”

  The woman laughed and handed Kendra her card. “Oh, no. I’m Darlene Wagner, personal shopping representative with Nordstorm University City. How are you today?”

  Kendra stared at the card, then back up at Darlene’s smiling face. “Fine, according to the doctor.”

  Darlene bent over and unloaded several pieces of clothing from her cart. There were at least half a dozen blouses, three pairs of slacks, and several boxes of shoes.

  Kendra wrinkled her brow. “I don’t know if you heard me, but I’m really not interested in buying anything.”

  Darlene was still smiling. “Oh, it’s already bought and paid for. No need to worry about that.”

  “Who bought and paid for it?”

  “Mr. Lynch, of course.” Darlene held up a dark blue sweater. “This one will be wonderful with your coloring.”

  Kendra looked at her in disbelief. “
It’s 7:20 A.M. When did all this happen?”

  “I received a text from Mr. Lynch at a little after 5 A.M. He wanted clothes for both of you brought here as soon as possible. He gave me your sizes.”

  “You picked these up from Nordstrom … at 5 A.M.?”

  “More like 5:30 by the time I dressed and got over there.” Darlene draped the clothes across the foot of the bed and on a tray table. “I’ve been Mr. Lynch’s Nordstrom personal shopping assistant for years. He’s a very good customer. We try to be accommodating. I’ve already been up to his room, and he was very happy with what I brought for him.”

  “Nice to hear,” she said dryly. “We wouldn’t want Lynch to be unhappy.”

  Darlene picked up a tee shirt. “It’ll be a bit cool today, you might want to consider wearing the sweater over this white tee shirt. I think it’ll look smart with this pair of khakis.” She frowned consideringly. “And how would you feel about a pair of Kate Spade tennis shoes?”

  * * *

  TWENTY MINUTES LATER, Kendra walked across the hospital lobby to where Lynch stood in the waiting area. He wore a smart tweed jacket and gray slacks that looked as if they had been custom-tailored for him.

  Kendra nodded in approval. “Darlene did well for you.”

  “She knows what I like. I hope you don’t mind me taking the liberty of getting a few things for you.”

  She raised the two stuffed bags of new clothes she was carrying. “I can only wear one outfit at a time, you know.”

  He shrugged. “I wanted you to have a choice.”

  “We could have gotten something from my condo.”

  “This way we can hit the ground running. And I wanted to whisk you out of here before Homeland Security could make an appearance this morning. That head nurse was bristling with disapproval when we decided to return to the hospital last night.”

  “Well, thank you. Good old Lynch. High impact as always.”

  “I wouldn’t want to disappoint you. Though your referring to me as old does not please me.” He motioned toward the doors. “Shall we go? I take it that you’ve been officially dismissed, and they won’t put a bounty on us? Want to go see if the techs at the FBI garage have found anything?”

  “Maybe later.”

  He raised a brow. “Got a better idea?”

  “I just got my phone back, and there was an interesting text waiting for me.” She went ahead of him through the doors. “We need to go see Jessie Mercado.”

  * * *

  LYNCH PULLED INTO THE beach parking lot in Carlsbad just twenty minutes north of the city. Kendra climbed out of the car and glanced around.

  “Any sign of her?” Lynch said.

  Kendra pointed to the Harley-Davidson parked at the end of the lot. “Well, that’s her motorcycle. And if I know Jessie, she’d try not to park it anywhere she couldn’t keep an eye on it.”

  Lynch grimaced. “I still don’t know why we had to meet her here.”

  “She said she had a special reason.” Kendra pointed to a beachside café where Jessie, seated at an outdoor table, was waving at them.

  They walked across a strip of sand to the café where Jessie motioned for them to sit. Her short dark hair was windblown and she wore a pair of John Lennon-style sunglasses with small round lenses.

  “Why did it take you so long to answer my messages and texts?” she asked, annoyed.

  “Long story,” Kendra said.

  “I like long stories.”

  “Another time. But I will tell you that we both spent the night in the hospital and that my phone was being disinfected. Hopefully that passes for a decent excuse.”

  Jessie slid her sunglasses down to the end of her nose and peered over them. “You aren’t joking.”

  “Nope.”

  “Intriguing.” She slid her sunglasses back up. “I guess that works. I still want that story sometime.”

  “You’ll get it. Right now I want your story.”

  Jessie nodded. “I’m much more interested in me now anyway. I find everything I am and do riveting. Has the name Schuyler Hagstrom come up in your investigation?”

  “As a possible suspect?”

  “Or even just as a person of interest. Anything.”

  Kendra thought. “No, I’m sure I would have remembered that name.”

  “And I’m positive I didn’t see that name in any of the case files,” Lynch said.

  Kendra leaned forward. “Who is he?”

  “He may be your killer.” She waved at the waitress. “Would you guys like to order something?”

  Kendra stared at her in disbelief. “No. I believe I’d rather hear about our killer.”

  “Suit yourself.” Jessie asked for a refill of her iced tea and turned back to Kendra and Lynch. “Remember, it was totally your idea, Kendra, looking at military personnel who happened to be in each of those cities while the murders took place.”

  “You told me there weren’t any.”

  “There aren’t. But I had my source broaden the net to look at civilian support personnel. A fair amount of people who work on these bases aren’t military at all. It took a lot more digging, but he came up with a name.”

  “Schuyler Hagstrom,” Kendra said.

  “Yes. He’s a data network specialist. Civilian contractor. He’s worked in each of those bases you asked me to check at time spans that matched each of the murder cases.”

  Kendra gave Lynch a hopeful glance before turning back to Jessie. “So what do we know about him?”

  “Not a lot. I haven’t had time to do an in-depth background check. I didn’t even know the guy existed until late last night.” She reached inside her leather jacket and pulled out a sheaf of papers folded length-wise. “But here’s some general background: Schuyler Keith Hagstrom, age thirty-eight. He was born in Kennett Square, Pennsylvania. His parents never married, and his mother died when he was in his late teens. He went to a vocational school in Cherry Hill, New Jersey. Soon after that, he started working for Allied Systems, which is one of several companies charged with upgrading and maintaining network infrastructure in U.S. military bases. His job took him to Connecticut, Florida, Virginia, Ventura County, Northern California, and finally here.”

  Lynch picked up the sheaf of papers and scanned them. “Impressive for just a few hours’ work.”

  Jessie shrugged. “It’s what I do.”

  “Does he have a wife? Kids?”

  “No, never married.”

  “I don’t suppose you can tell us what kind of car he drives.”

  “A Chevy Suburban.”

  Kendra took a deep breath. “What color?”

  “White.”

  Lynch leaned back. “Promising.”

  “Is it?” Jessie asked.

  Kendra nodded. “We’ve had some indication that Zachary may drive a white SUV.”

  Jessie nodded toward the street. “Like that one over there?”

  Kendra and Lynch turned. A white Chevy Suburban was parked about half a block down from the café.

  Kendra turned back. “Are you telling me…?”

  “It’s his. I’ve already checked the license plate. He lives in that tan stucco condo at the end of the block.” She nodded at the sheaf of papers. “You’re holding the address in your hands.” Her dark eyes glinted with mischief. “Does it feel hot to the touch?”

  “Maybe.” Kendra smiled. “So that’s why we’re here.”

  “He’s home now. I’m not sure what you want to do with that information.”

  Lynch glanced over at the apartment building. “Even if that is his car, how are you sure that he’s home?”

  “Because I’ve seen him.”

  “When?” Kendra asked.

  Jessie took a swig of her iced tea. “He left his condo about forty-five minutes ago. He bought some pastry from that bakery on the corner, got a manual of some kind from his car, then went back into his condo. He looked like he was dressed for work, so I’d expect him to be on the move soon.”

 
Kendra consulted the papers in front of her. “On the move to NAB Coronado?”

  “That’s where he works. But if he’s who we think he is, I’m not comfortable letting him out of my sight for even a minute.”

  Kendra nodded. “That makes two of us.”

  “I’ll tail him and make sure he goes to his job. That’ll give you and the Feds time to figure out how you want to handle him. I don’t have a lot experience with this sort of thing, but I imagine there is some advantage to just watching him for a while.”

  “Especially since we can’t hold him,” Kendra said. “It’s not enough that he lived in close proximity to these murders, but it does give us a good start.”

  “True,” Jessie said. “And a reasonable judge might consider it probable cause for a search warrant.”

  Kendra lifted her phone. “I’ll call Griffin and see how he wants to play it.”

  Jessie suddenly slouched in her seat. “Am I right to believe this killer knows you?”

  “I know he does.”

  “Then don’t turn around for the next minute or so. That goes for you too, pretty boy. We don’t want to tip him off.”

  “Pretty boy?” Lynch murmured distastefully.

  Kendra froze. “He’s outside?”

  “Yep. And heading for his car. He’s almost there.” Jessie kept her head low as she watched him. “He doesn’t seem jittery. He’s not looking over his shoulder, not checking to see if he’s being watched.”

  “That’s common,” Kendra said. “Serial killers often think they’re too good to be caught.”

  Jessie reached under her chair for her helmet. “Okay, I’m going after him. I’ll call when he gets where he’s going. Maybe by then you guys can figure out what you want to do with him.”

  Jessie sprinted across the sand to her motorcycle and started it up. She revved it and hit the street a couple of blocks behind Hagstrom’s SUV. After a hundred yards or so, she abruptly turned at a cross street.

  “She’s good,” Lynch said. “She’s mixing it up, tailing him from parallel streets so he doesn’t catch on.”

  “Not good. She’s the best. There’s no way she’ll lose him.” Kendra punched Griffin’s number and he answered immediately.