“You’re supposed to be resting, Kendra.”
“That’s over. The hospital cut us loose. We’re golden.”
“I’ll call and confirm that, you know.”
“Go ahead. But first I need you to tell me what you can find out about Schuyler Hagstrom. He lives in Carlsbad.”
“Who is he?”
“A possible suspect. His residential history lines up with the time and place of each series of murders.”
“How in the hell did you find that out before we did?”
“A friend in low places. She’s on his tail as we speak, following him to his job at NAB Coronado. After that, she’s out. You’d better figure out how you want to handle this.”
“Hmm. I’ll see. Let me do some digging.”
“Would his social security number help?”
He chuckled. “Maybe a little. Give it to me.”
She read the number from a page Jessie had given her.
“Okay, I’ll run this and see what turns up. We’ll probably pay him a visit and talk to him.”
Probably? The casualness of the answer annoyed the hell out of her. “When?”
“Depends what we find out. I’ll keep you posted.”
“Yeah, you do that.” Kendra cut the connection.
“Wishing you were on the back of Jessie’s Harley?” Lynch asked.
“It’s looking very attractive at this particular moment.” She grimaced. “Jessie doesn’t know the meaning of the words ‘probably’ or ‘depends.’ She just goes for it.”
“And that appeals to you.”
“Does that surprise you?”
“No, it’s part of the Kendra I’m trying to encourage at all cost. I enjoy every aspect of you, but I’m much more likely to end up in bed with that Kendra.” He smiled. “And that’s exactly where I want to be. So by all means, go for it.”
She could feel the heat move through her, the tingle of the pulse throbbing at her wrists, the faint vibration of Lynch’s breathing as he sat watching her.
An erotic sensation out of nowhere.
She pulled her gaze away from him. “But the reasonable Kendra tends to get more things done in situations like this.” She pushed back her chair. “And Jessie has run off and left me so I’d better just let her have her fun and go back to the FBI office and nag Griffin into getting us what we need.”
“As you like.” He got to his feet and left some bills on the table. “But I detect a thread of envy in your tone. Do you really think Jessie is having that much fun?”
Kendra had a vision of that last moment when she’d seen Jessie tearing down the street, her hair flying, the sunlight on her bike. Kendra was remembering those times when she’d experienced that same heady feeling of being one with her bike, one with life itself. “Yes, I really do think Jessie is having that much fun.” She sighed. “And I’d just as soon you not remind me, Lynch.”
* * *
SHIT-SHIT-SHIT-SHIT-SHIT!
Jessie swung her motorcycle hard right and jumped onto the sidewalk.
A road construction crew coupled with a dumber-than-hell UPS driver had thrown a serious wrench into her efforts to tail Hagstrom. She needed to cross back to Cassidy Road in time to make sure that he was veering onto the I-5 South as expected.
Time was running out. And so was this damned sidewalk.
She veered around an elderly man and turned down what she hoped was an alley.
Yes!
She roared down the narrow alley, her motorcycle engine deafening as it echoed against the brick and plaster walls.
Her back wheel spun out as she turned onto Cassidy Road.
Was Hagstrom still…?
There he was, blinker flashing, about to turn onto the I-5 entrance ramp.
As expected.
She eased off the throttle, keeping her distance as he took the onramp. She followed thirty seconds later.
Traffic on the I-5 was heavy. No surprise there. Normally she’d zip between the cars in a way that always terrified her out-of-state friends, but she hung back, keeping an eye on Hagstrom’s white Suburban as it poked along.
Hmm. Was this how serial killers drove?
She’d long ago given up trying to equate driving styles with what she knew about the people she tailed. As far as she could tell, corporate embezzlers, cheating spouses, and bail jumpers drove no differently than abusive assholes who beat their wives.
Or, apparently, serial killers. The guy had already politely let two cars merge in front of him.
A well-mannered psychopath. Wonderful.
She followed him downtown past the airport, keeping about a half mile between them. In another few yards, he would take the interchange toward the Coronado Bridge, and then—
What in the hell?
He’d abruptly moved into the fast lane, away from the turnoff.
Had he spotted her? Was this a test to see if she’d follow his last-minute maneuver?
She slowed and stayed in her lane, watching as he sped around the freeway’s bend.
He sure as hell wasn’t watching her.
She swerved left and put on speed until he was once again within sight.
His head was now bobbing and his mouth was moving. Was he singing along to a favorite song? Cursing a caller on talk radio?
Neither, she decided. He was talking on the phone.
He exited onto Division Street, and she followed him through an industrial neighborhood that she remembered was called Shelltown, named for an abundance of shells in the area’s soft, sandy soil.
Not that there was any soil to be seen in this concrete jungle. Where was he going?
The traffic thinned to almost nothing, making it difficult for her to follow without being spotted. She put more distance between them.
Hagstrom drove past a machine shop and turned onto a street populated by narrow one-story houses.
Jessie pulled behind a stopped truck and watched as he parked on the street and climbed out of his car. For the first time, he looked nervous. Edgy. He glanced around.
She leaned behind the truck to avoid being seen.
He walked between two of the houses and opened a rusty metal gate and walked through to the backyard.
Shit. Jessie hit the kickstand and jumped off her bike. She ran to a gate two houses down and tried it. Locked. She gripped the top of the fence and swung her legs over. She crouched and moved along the yard’s tall bushes until she could see, two yards over, Hagstrom on the elevated porch. He was still casting furtive glances around.
Afraid of something, buddy?
The back door opened a crack. But only a crack. Hagstrom slid inside and closed the door behind him.
Jessie stood up straight. Okay, that was weird, but not necessarily murderous. She pulled out her phone and snapped a photo of the back of the house.
What now? Just wait around and see if he notched another victim on his knife handle?
It wasn’t like she could just barge inside, especially without any proof of wrongdoing. And any such attempt would only tip him off to the fact that he was now under scrutiny.
Well, if she couldn’t go inside, at least she could get closer.
She hopped the two fences that separated her from the house Hagstrom was visiting. She moved from window to window, trying to see around the blinds that covered each opening.
Sealed up tight.
She rounded the corner and moved down the side, checking more windows until she found one with an out-of-skew vertical blind. She leaned close and peered inside.
It was dark inside. She appeared to be looking at a small bedroom, furnished with an unmade bed, a small table, and two straight-backed chairs.
The wooden door was open, but she saw nothing beyond.
Wait. There was something …
Movement.
Was that…?
“Hey!” A strong voice yelled from behind her.
She spun around. It was a large man, late-thirties, wearing a threadbare black tee
shirt that read, in fiery letters, HELL IS WHERE I BURY YOU.
He was coming from the backyard, and he was holding a club.
Jessie was still staring at the shirt’s lettering. “A little obvious, don’t you think?”
He raised the club menacingly. “Keep your hands where I can see ’em.”
She raised her hands and wiggled her fingers.
The guy was getting closer by the second. If she was going to make a break for it, she needed to—
“Got her covered, Eddie?”
Oh shit. Another voice, this one from the street side. She turned and saw another man even bigger than the first. He had tattoos covering both arms.
She was now boxed in.
“Yeah,” Eddie said. “And thanks for telling her my name, dickhead.”
Jessie cocked her head toward the tattooed guy. “Great. Now I know his name. Would that be Mister Dickhead or just plain ol’ Dickhead?”
Neither of the men smiled.
She shrugged. “Come on, that was a little funny.”
Eddie slapped the club into his palm. “You need a warrant to be poking around on private property. I don’t suppose you have one of those.”
She wrinkled her nose. “A warrant? You think I’m a cop?”
At that moment, a third man appeared from the backyard, pulling Hagstrom along with him. The man wore a scowl and a bushy beard.
Jessie shook her head. This was getting worse by the minute.
The bearded guy shoved Hagstrom against the wall of the house. “Who in the hell is she?”
Hagstrom looked genuinely rattled. “I … I don’t know.”
“Bullshit!”
“I’ve never seen her before in my life.”
“You’re lying.”
Hagstrom looked pleadingly toward Jessie. “Tell him. We’ve never met.”
Jessie quickly studied Hagstrom. As he stood there trembling, she found it difficult to believe that this could be a psychopathic killer who’d murdered over two dozen people.
“Tell him!” Hagstrom begged.
She nodded. “He’s telling the truth. We’ve never met.”
The bearded guy punched Hagstrom in the stomach. “I don’t believe you. Either you’re narcs or you’re here to rip me off.”
Hagstrom doubled over in pain. “No,” he wheezed. “I promise, I just came here to do some business.”
Jessie closed her eyes. Of course. Hagstrom was just here for a drug buy. Shit.
The bearded guy turned toward Jessie. He was clearly the leader; his other two men looked to him for guidance. “You expect me to believe it’s a coincidence she turned up at the exact same moment you did?”
She shrugged. “I just came here to try and score some Adam. I wanted to scope the place out and see what I was getting myself into.”
The bearded man glared at her. “What makes you think you can get ecstasy here?”
“A guy I met at a club said you could hook me up.”
“What guy?”
“A tall skinny guy with longish hair. His friends call him Chewie.”
“Doesn’t sound like anybody I know.”
“He said he knew about you. Or at least this house.”
Hagstrom tried to stand straight, but he was obviously still reeling from the punch to his midsection. “Look, I don’t know why this woman’s here. But I’m telling you, she’s got nothing to do with me. You three got a problem, take it up with her. I need to get to work.”
The bearded guy shook his head. “Oh, we’re way beyond that.”
Jessie took a moment to try and size up her opponents. Of the three, Eddie looked like the one most likely to run like hell when the shit hit the fan. The other two would be another matter entirely.
He looked over at his tattooed friend. “See anyone else on the street?”
“No. No one. All clear.”
“Okay, at least that’s something. We’ll take them inside and sort this out.” He grabbed Hagstrom and pushed him roughly toward the backyard.
Jessie adjusted her jacket. “I won’t be going in there with you. That would be really stupid.”
The three men looked at each other. The bearded guy chuckled. “The choice isn’t yours, little lady.”
Jessie flexed her arms and stepped back to keep all three men in her line of vision. But then there was also Hagstrom, who was still a wild card.
Three tough guy drug dealers and a possible psychopathic killer. Oh, what a beautiful morning.
The bearded guy nodded at Eddie and Dickhead.
Jessie half-smiled. “I like the dumb little nod. Was that your clever ‘okay boys, grab her!’ signal?”
Eddie and Dickhead rushed her and she whirled around with a bullet kick to Dickhead’s face.
He went down. Hard. Blood splattered where his face hit the sidewalk.
Eddie leaped over his fallen comrade, but she grabbed his jacket collar and slammed his head onto the pavement.
Both men tried to stand, but she grabbed each by their hair and slammed their heads together.
Lights out.
The bearded guy looped his arm around Hagstrom’s neck in a choke hold. “Okay, lady. Come with me or else I’ll snap this guy like a twig.”
She sighed. “Again. We’re not cops and I don’t know this guy.”
He tightened his grip. “Then you wouldn’t mind if I broke his neck.”
“Well, that’s not something I really want to see happen to anyone.” She looked down at the two unconscious men. “Except to these guys. Or you, maybe.”
She looked at Hagstrom. His eyes suddenly went cold.
Dead, even.
The tension left his face.
Chilling.
If you have some homicidal skills, buddy, it might be time to break them out.
But Hagstrom did nothing. He stood motionless with that creepy look on his face.
What the hell to do? Just do something. In a blur, Jessie grabbed the bearded guy’s fingers and wrenched them backwards.
Pop-pop-pop-pop!
She broke four fingers of his right hand.
He howled in pain. As he recoiled, Jesse grabbed Hagstrom and pulled him toward her.
“Move! You’re coming with me.”
Hagstrom was still in his odd trance. “Who are you?”
“We’ll exchange LinkedIn invites later. Come on.”
She pulled him down the narrow opening between houses and emerged in the front yard.
BLAMM!
She turned to see that the bearded guy was now unsteadily holding a gun in his left hand.
BLAMM!
He fired again.
She grabbed Hagstrom and pulled him behind a parked jeep. “Where’s your car?”
He pointed to his SUV on the other side of the gun-waving drug dealer. “There.”
“No good. Shit. Okay, follow me. We’re riding out of here on my bike.”
“What?”
“Stay behind the cars. My motorcycle is parked about three spots back.”
Jessie poked her head up and looked through the car windows at her injured attacker. He was still nursing his bloody and broken fingers even as he held the gun in front of him.
“Now!” Jessie whispered. She ducked and ran for her motorcycle. She cast a quick glance back to make sure Hagstrom was following her. He was.
Was she really about to give a lift to a suspected psychotic killer?
It seemed she was.
BLAMM!
The driver’s-side window shattered on a car as they ran past.
Jessie jumped on her motorcycle and Hagstrom hopped on the seat behind her. She started it up and turned hard right to ride away on the sidewalk, using the parked cars to shield them from more gunshots.
BLAMM! BLAMM!
They roared around the corner and Jessie sped away as fast as her bike could take them.
She angled her mirrors to keep a close watch on her passenger. There hadn’t been time to frisk him, but if it looked lik
e he was about to go for a weapon, she was ready to send him flying.
But what in the hell was she going to do with him?
Not her call.
She unhooked her helmet from the console and popped it on.
“Do you have a helmet for me?” Hagstrom shouted over the wind and engine noise.
“No. You’re a purely unexpected guest. Live with it.”
Jessie tapped the switch that turned on the Bluetooth headset built into her helmet.
She voice-dialed the name of someone who she knew wouldn’t be happy to hear from her.
“Hi,” Kendra answered. “Having fun? Is everything okay?”
“Depends on your definition of ‘okay.’ Where are you?”
“Lynch and I are heading to the FBI field office. Griffin was not helpful. We’re still waiting to see what they want to do with Hagstrom. You haven’t lost him, have you?”
Jessie cast a wary glance at the man sharing her motorcycle seat. “No, though you might wish I had.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means our options have suddenly narrowed quite a bit. Hagstrom and I are on our way to the field office.”
“What?” Kendra practically yelled her response.
“Get your ducks in a row. I’m bringing Hagstrom in. We’ll meet you in fifteen minutes.”
CHAPTER
11
“WHAT AM I DOING HERE?” Hagstrom asked as two agents helped him off Jessie’s motorcycle and pushed him toward the front entrance where Lynch was holding open the door. “The FBI? I didn’t do anything.” He jerked his head back at Jessie. “She was the one who was causing all the trouble.” He glared at her. “She almost got me killed. You ought to arrest her.”
“You were eager enough to jump on the back of my bike,” Jessie said as she got off to stand beside Kendra. “That’s called a rescue, not an assault.”
“You broke that guy’s fingers,” he shouted back to her. “He’ll be looking for me as well as you.”
“Then you’d better tell these agents something interesting enough to make them want to protect you.” She turned back to Kendra as Hagstrom disappeared inside the building with the agents and Lynch. “Not exactly brimming with gratitude, is he? It got pretty rough toward the end, he could have bought it.” She wrinkled her nose. “Though he’s right, I was definitely a contributing factor. We were all caught off guard and reacted accordingly.”
Look Behind You Page 18
