Look Behind You

by Iris Johansen

  “What did you do to Gina?” Lynch murmured. He was suddenly standing beside her, his gaze on Gina and Metcalf across the yard. “She’s staring daggers at you, and Metcalf is cowering like a whipped dog.”

  “He isn’t cowering,” Kendra said curtly. “He’s just trying to explain why … actually he’s defending me. And it’s probably making her even angrier. So stop taking shots at him.”

  “Whatever you say.” His gaze was on her face. “I’d hate to go to battle when Metcalf is obviously doing such a good job. Am I allowed to ask why Metcalf is having to defend you?”

  “Because I’m being me,” she said flatly. “And sometimes people have trouble with it. I probably would if I had a sensitive bone in my body. I just blurt out things that people would prefer to keep secret.”

  “I find that part of your charm.”

  She made a rude sound. “That’s because you don’t have a sensitive bone in your body, either. I just amuse you.”

  “Yes, you do. And if you didn’t have a modicum of sensitivity, it wouldn’t bother you that evidently Gina took offense that you found out she was sleeping with Metcalf.”

  She looked away from him. “I didn’t say that.”

  “Please.” He looked pained. “I was aware of the signs of intimacy fifteen minutes after we walked into the FBI office today. I would have known before if I hadn’t been absorbed with watching Hagstrom. I might not have your in-depth ability in that area, but I can see what’s in front of me. And so can any number of other detectives and agents. It’s what we do for a living. You’re only on the hot spot because everyone knows that you’re damn good.”

  “And I tend to open my mouth when I shouldn’t.”

  “That’s due to the fact that you’re honest and believe everyone else should be honest as well.” His lips quirked. “And you have a mischievous sense of humor that surfaces occasionally. I take it that Gina didn’t appreciate it.”

  “She has a right to her privacy.”

  “That I just told you I’d breached before you got around to it. If she’s lucky enough to live in your world, she’d better get used to accepting who you are.” His smile faded. “Or you can send her to me for counseling. I’d be a hell of a lot better at it than Metcalf. Though I’m feeling a good deal more cordial toward him right now than I usually do.” His eyes were suddenly twinkling. “I’m not sure if it’s because he’s jumping Gina and it takes him out of the running, or if it’s because he’s nobly defending you.”

  “I don’t think how you feel about him would make any difference to Metcalf,” she said dryly. “You persist in believing it’s all about you. It’s my opinion that matters; you just kind of dropped into this conversation.”

  “I agree, it’s your opinion that matters. And I find it’s interesting that I discovered that you do have a few random moments of doubt that you’re not perfect.”

  “Only a few.” She smiled. “And only when I like the person inspiring those doubts. Usually, I revert to how I felt years ago when I first realized that there were so many ways to identify what was going on around me.”

  “After your operation? Now that interests me. How did you feel then?”

  “At first, I was full of wonder,” she said softly, remembering that heady, exultant sensation of discovery. “Every day, every hour, was a new adventure. It wasn’t that I hadn’t known before how to compensate for that lack of vision by using my other senses. I just took it for granted. Then, when I could suddenly see, everything came together and it was like…” she searched for the right word “… kind of like a symphony. All the world around me was open and singing, telling me what was happening. All I had to do was reach out and study and observe and listen, and it would all come to me.”

  “And no one can say you didn’t reach out,” he said gently.

  “I thought anyone would be insane not to take what was offered. I devoured it.” She grimaced. “Which brought me to phase two. Because no one else seemed to understand how important it was to see everything, to hear every sound, to know what you were touching, to be complete. All those people who’d been given those same gifts the day they were born and had never bothered to use them in the way they should have. Too lazy? I don’t know. I only know, it made me angry. I wanted to shake them.”

  He chuckled. “Now that’s the Kendra I know.”

  “And then I went to phase three. Impatience.” She shrugged. “I guess that’s where I am right now. And why sometimes I don’t care if I’m a little rude to some of Griffin’s agents who drift around and just don’t get it.” She glanced at Gina. “And why it’s hard for me to care if someone is intimidated by me because they think I have some kind of power over them just because I pay attention.”

  “It’s not that hard for you to care,” Lynch said quietly. “That’s what this is all about. I like all three phases of Kendra Michaels, and they all care. Though I’d really like to meet phase one Kendra just to compare the differences. Do you suppose you could pull her out of the mothballs and let me see all the wonder she saw?”

  “Maybe someday. I think it would amuse you a little too much for me to tolerate.”

  “You’re wrong. I’m not looking for amusement value. I think I might want to keep her around for the perfect balance.”

  “Haven’t you been listening? The last thing I am is perfect. Ask Gina Carson.”

  “I’ve been listening. But I don’t think I’ll ask Gina. I’ll look for someone less biased. Maybe I’ll take a poll.”

  “Well, I can tell you at least two people who don’t believe I’m perfect. One is my patient, Ryan Walker, who I’m going to see this afternoon. Most of the time I’m not sure if he’s even aware I’m in the room.”

  “And the other?”

  “Zachary.” She was no longer smiling as she headed toward the front door now being opened for Griffin by a forensic tech. “Zachary wouldn’t believe I’d even come close to being perfect … unless I was dead.”

  * * *

  GRIFFIN SPOKE TO THE tech at the door and then motioned to the assembled investigators. “Okay, we’re on. Put on evidence gloves on the way in and try not to destroy the place, okay?”

  Kendra and Lynch entered the building behind Griffin, Metcalf, Gina, and the dream team, filing past a young FBI agent whose only job seemed to consist of handing out plastic evidence gloves.

  Kendra glanced around the sparsely-furnished condo, which featured hardwood floors in the kitchen and dining area and slightly outdated tan carpeting in the living room. There were no pictures on the walls.

  “Not much to it,” Lynch said to Kendra. “Does this tell you anything?”

  She scanned the walls from floor to ceiling. “Well, it does look like the home of someone who moves around a lot and isn’t in the habit of putting down roots in the places he does live.”

  “How brilliantly perceptive.” Agent Gale smirked sarcastically. “Now I can see why you were brought in to give us a hand.”

  Lynch strolled over to Gale and leaned into his face. “You’ve done nothing on this investigation since you got here except talk trash and take up space. Unless you have something useful to contribute, try keeping your mouth shut.”

  Gale didn’t give an inch. He smiled. “Is that an order? Because I don’t see where you fit in the chain of command around here.”

  “Consider it friendly advice,” Lynch said softly. “Which might get considerably less friendly if you don’t do as I suggest.”

  “Enough,” Kendra said. She didn’t need Lynch to defend her, and Gale had no idea who he was up against. “If you’re through flinging testosterone at each other, we should take a closer look around.”

  Lynch stepped back toward her and murmured, “You weren’t impressed by my protective instincts?”

  “No, I can protect myself.”

  “That goes without saying. But I thought you might appreciate having someone around who’s willing to beat the hell out of a patronizing dirt bag for you when the occa
sion demands.”

  “That’s a little too caveman for me.”

  “Just putting it out there. He annoyed me.”

  “Obviously.” Kendra walked through the tiny kitchen before circling back to the living room. “Okay, Hagstrom comes home from work every night, cooks a frozen dinner in that microwave, then eats and watches TV alone on the couch.”

  “I’m sure you can smell all kinds of processed foods that I could never pick up,” Lynch said. “But how about the couch?”

  She pointed toward the living room. “Only one side of that couch is depressed. On the arm is a faint impression of the size and shape of a dinner plate. Also on the arm are stains from about a dozen different meals. It’s probably where he eats dinner every night, right in front of the TV.”

  Gina motioned toward the dinette set. “But the chair looks worn.”

  “Only on the edge. He does something else there, something that requires focus and concentration on the table.” She ran her gloved fingers across the tabletop. “Something that leaves this fine metallic powder.”

  Metcalf stared at the dark residue. “Metallic shavings … Some kind of sculptor?”

  “Possibly.” She looked closer and smelled the shavings. “But could also come from…” She glanced around. “Are there guns here?”

  Griffin called out from the hallway. “The advance team found four guns under the bed, plus an assortment of scopes and replacement parts. They’re now on the floor of the bedroom, if you’d like to see them.”

  “Guns?” Roscoe said. “Zachary has never used guns before. Anywhere.”

  Suber nodded. “Although there is some indication he may have used a gun in Florida in the initial abduction stage of one of his killings.”

  Kendra was still staring at the table top. “These are barrel filings, perhaps to fit a scope. Hagstrom is a gun enthusiast.”

  “Like half of the other people in America,” Lynch said. “Still, nothing to connect him to any of your killings.”

  Kendra and the other investigators were moving to the bedroom, where the guns and parts where displayed on a small tarp.

  Roscoe crouched and inspected them. “Nothing unusual here. Barrels haven’t been tampered with to disguise ballistic signatures.”

  Kendra glanced around. “Any knives here?”

  Griffin shook his head. “Just a few in the kitchen drawer. Nothing even close to the type that would have caused the victims’ stab wounds.”

  “Let’s take a look anyway,” she said.

  They filed out of the room. Metcalf closed the door behind them and Kendra froze in her tracks. “Wait.”

  The other investigators stopped and looked at her quizzically.

  Kendra pointed to Metcalf. “Open that door and close it again.”

  He swung open the door and pulled it shut.

  “Again.”

  Close your eyes.

  Concentrate.

  Once again, he opened the door and closed it.

  She looked at the others. “Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?” Griffin said.

  Kendra rapped on the wall next to the hinge side of the door. She then did the same to the wall on the doorknob side. “Listen. There’s a metallic sound over here. That’s what I was hearing.” She closed her eyes as she ran her fingers over the wall. “Let’s go back into the bedroom.”

  They followed her back into the bedroom where she ran her hands over the wall. “The drywall texture is slightly different here. It’s probably newer with fewer coats of paint. It may have been recently replaced.” She rapped on the wall again where the slight metallic sound was obviously more perceptible to the others.

  “Maybe an HVAC duct?” Gina said.

  “No, that’s a different sound,” Kendra said. “Usually more of a rattle. This sounds more like…” Kendra pushed on the drywall and it suddenly clicked and swung open slightly.

  “Whoa,” Metcalf said. “If that leads to a hidden dungeon, I’m gonna freak out.”

  “No dungeon.” Kendra pulled on the drywall panel to reveal a tall, slender metal cabinet.

  “A gun safe,” Griffin said. “That’s what you were hearing.”

  “Kind of an elaborate setup for a place like this,” Gina said.

  Roscoe inspected the hidden drywall door. “Interior hinges and spring-loaded latch. I’ve known people to put these in their homes. You can do it in an afternoon if you know what you’re doing.”

  Kendra tried the safe door. Locked. She turned to Griffin. “Do we need a warrant to get inside here?”

  “Nope. We have Hagstrom’s permission for a full-premises search though he probably didn’t think we’d find this.” Griffin examined the key-lock. “I have a guy in the next room who can get us inside in under a minute.”

  Lynch stepped forward with two L-shaped picks he’d pulled from his jacket pocket. “You have a guy in here who can do that even faster.”

  In less than thirty seconds, Lynch opened the cabinet door.

  The group crowded closer, and Lynch stepped aside to reveal several more guns, each suspended on metal hooks.

  Gale let out a low whistle. “A Zoli, a K-80, a modified AR-15 … probably $40,000 worth of guns here. No wonder he wanted to hide them.”

  Kendra knelt in front of the cabinet. “There’s something else here. Can someone give me light?”

  Metcalf and Gina aimed their flashlights downward where a length of rolled-up black felt lined the cabinet’s base. Kendra unrolled the felt to reveal several small objects.

  Yes. She ignored the exclamations from the agents and detectives around her as she carefully examined them.

  Keys.

  A hearing aid.

  A monogrammed handkerchief.

  A prescription pill bottle.

  A bag filled with a clear gelatinous material.

  Kendra looked down at the pill bottle and read that name aloud. “Shelley Waldrop.”

  “She’s one of mine,” Gale said eagerly. “Murdered in Fairfield.”

  In short order the detectives linked the remaining items to each of the other cases, ending with the gruesome realization that the gelatinous bag was a breast implant cut from Los Angeles resident Ann-Marie Tepper, the first victim from Roscoe’s case. A quick call to the manufacturer confirmed that the serial number was a match.

  “We’ve got the son of a bitch,” Griffin said. “I’ll get the photographer back in here to document everything, then we’ll take these back to the office and shove them down Hagstrom’s throat until he talks.”

  “Give me the chance to do the verification first,” Gina said eagerly. “Then he won’t be able to deny anything.”

  “That seems to be the thing to do.” Kendra took one last look around and then she nodded at Griffin. “Good luck.”

  “Aren’t you coming back with us?” Griffin asked. “You should be there when the son of a bitch goes down.”

  She shook her head. “No. Grilling suspects is your thing, not mine. I have somewhere to go. We’ll talk later.” She headed for the door.

  Suber was suddenly beside her, blocking her way. “We really need you there during this final stage of the case.” His eyes were shining with eagerness. “Can’t you see that it’s a historic moment in crime solving? I was planning on featuring you prominently in my paper. Our efforts here will be taught in universities all over the world.”

  “No.” She was trying to be patient. “I’m not going back to the field office, Suber.”

  “All right, then give me a statement I can quote in my paper.”

  She’d had enough. “A quote? Here’s a quote. Stop concentrating every minute on death, Suber. In short, get a life.”

  She pushed past him and left the house.

  * * *

  “DEAR ME,” LYNCH SAID mildly as he caught up with her as she reached the street. “I believe that you’ve hurt poor Suber’s feelings.” He clicked his tongue reprovingly. “You’re definitely not behaving as the star of Griffi
n’s august team.”

  “I didn’t volunteer for the assignment of being either their therapist or a member of the team itself.” She was already in the passenger seat of his car. “And he kept talking and he was making me late.” She checked her watch. “Which he probably managed to do. I should have left ten minutes ago.”

  “Only ten minutes?” He started the Ferrari with a low roar. “I can get you there on time.”

  “I prefer it to also be in one piece,” she said dryly. “I won’t do Ryan Walker any good from the ICU.”

  “Have a little faith.” He was already halfway to the freeway. “I wouldn’t risk you. It’s all a question of regulating the traffic lights. I have a gadget I ordered from Rome that—”

  “I don’t want to hear about it.”

  “I wasn’t going to really describe it. There’s such a thing as plausible deniability. Besides, Jessie would appreciate it far more than you would. You might occasionally be envious of Jessie, but it’s obviously pretty much all talk. I’ve noticed that you’ve grown a little stodgy of late.”

  “Stodgy?” She shot him an outraged look. “Because I don’t want to end up in jail or the hospital? Just because I don’t drive a Ferrari or smuggle hackers out of foreign—” She stopped as she met his eyes, which were gleaming with sly satisfaction.

  “Gotcha,” he said softly.

  Yes he had, she realized. She had risen to the bait. “You’re right, I wouldn’t want to be thought boring. Pull over. I bet I can get back to the studio with time to spare. Just let me get behind the wheel and see what I can get out of this—”

  He lost his smile. “Hell, no.”

  “Chicken.”

  “Merely possessive. Haven’t you noticed?” He held up his hand. “And no, you’re not stodgy. I still shudder when I remember you and Jessie on that motorcycle on the freeway a few months ago. I just thought that I’d distract you from a mood that appears to be on the stormy side.”

  “By pissing me off?”

  “By making you feel superior. You can’t deny that making a man such as me back down is a real victory for anyone.”