Sight Unseen

by Iris Johansen

  “Just one question. Now what?”

  “Can’t you guess? Why, Kendra, of course you’ve made the logical deduction.” He was silent a moment, then he whispered, “Now I finish Colby’s work for him.”

  CHAPTER

  15

  Mount Laguna

  “GET OVER HERE, LYNCH,” GRIFFIN SAID. “I’m at the helicopter. I have something you’ve got to see.”

  “Ten minutes. I’m waiting for a report on the searchers in the west quadrant.”

  “Now,” Griffin said. “We may not have ten minutes.” He hung up the phone.

  Shit.

  Lynch didn’t hesitate. He didn’t like the sound of Griffin’s tone. In four minutes, he’d left the woods and was striding toward the helicopter, where Griffin was standing with Metcalf. “So what’s so urgent?”

  “Reade sent me a sketch by Dillingham that he told her he’d been working on for Kendra. Did you know about it?”

  “Yeah, she told me she’d asked him to try to do a mock-up of Myatt without disguise.”

  “He did it.” Griffin handed him his laptop computer. “Take a look.”

  “Holy shit.” Lynch’s hands tightened on the computer. “This is Bobby Chatsworth.”

  “Clearly,” Griffin said.

  “Incredible,” Lynch said.

  Metcalf took another look at the sketch. “According to Reade, the sketch artist has never seen Chatsworth before. This was just a concept sketch based on disguises Myatt might have used.”

  “Brilliant,” Lynch murmured.

  “Reade got hold of Chatsworth’s producer. The team left for England this morning. Everyone except Chatsworth. He’s still here.”

  Lynch tensed. “Have you called Kendra?”

  Griffin and Metcalf exchanged glances. “That’s why I wanted you to drop everything and get over here. She’s not answering her phone.”

  “What?”

  “And she’s not at the hospital, either,” Metcalf said.

  Lynch asked slowly and carefully, “Then where the hell is she?”

  “No one knows.”

  “Don’t tell me that. Chatsworth has her. You know it and I know it.” Saying the words made that truth more stark and terrible. “Now tell me how we’re going to get her back. Chatsworth has to have his own phone. He won’t get rid of it if he doesn’t know that we’ve zeroed in on him. Have you started the trace?”

  “Reade started that trace before she sent me the sketch. We’ll have it very soon.”

  “Soon?” Lynch started cursing as he started walking toward the burning embers of the house.

  “Where are you going?” Griffin called after him.

  “I’m taking Nelson’s car.”

  “Where?”

  “I’ll start with the hospital, unless you can find me a more productive place to go.” He stared at him over his shoulder, and said with icy softness, “And you’d better find me that phone location in a damn big hurry. Or I just might be more angry with you than I am with Chatsworth. You don’t want that, Griffin.”

  Jurupa Mountain

  Riverside County, California

  STILL, DEATHLY SILENCE.

  There was nothing else to hear after Chatsworth cut the engine. They had left the paved roads fifteen minutes before, and Kendra had been aware of a slight incline ever since. A slight odor of pines had found its way into the passenger compartment, destroying her previous belief that they were heading for the desert.

  Chatsworth climbed out of the vehicle and opened the rear door. He yanked the tarp off and dragged her out of the car by her jacket collar. It was still nighttime, but the full moon bathed the area in a bluish glow.

  Chatsworth cut the ropes around her ankles. “Do you know where you are?”

  Kendra looked around while she tried to steady herself. They were on a hilltop, at the end of a forest. “Should I?”

  “I believe it will come back to you. It’s one of your best efforts.” He motioned with a long knife. “But it didn’t happen quite here. It’s up ahead. Come along. I can’t wait to show you.”

  * * *

  “BAD NEWS,” GRIFFIN SAID when Lynch answered. “Chatsworth has dropped off the network.”

  Keep cool. “Entirely?”

  “He hasn’t pinged a cell tower in over thirty minutes. Either his phone died, or he decided to yank the battery. Maybe he doesn’t want to leave tracks.”

  Lynch pulled off the road and stared at the map on his tablet computer. “It looks like he was heading toward Riverside County, or maybe San Bernadino.”

  “That’s a lot of territory.”

  “Unless…” Lynch’s mind was racing. “Think about your bulletin boards of Kendra’s old cases.”

  “What are you getting at?”

  Lynch stared at the map for another long moment. “I have an idea where he’s taking her. Griffin, get your helicopter in the air. Quick.” He muttered a curse. “I’m close, but I may not be close enough.”

  * * *

  “YOU’RE NOT MOVING FAST ENOUGH.” Chatsworth pushed her down the path. Kendra stumbled, her hands still bound behind her. She’d managed to whittle at the ropes while in the SUV, but it had been slow going, and she’d only managed a partial cut. She was tempted to try to break the ropes now and make a move, but the timing had to be right, or it could be disaster. If the ropes didn’t break, she might not have a second chance.

  “Tell me something, Kendra. Back there at the hospital … Something tipped you off to me. It was like a light went on. You suddenly knew with whom you were dealing. What was it?”

  “Your fingers.”

  Chatsworth held up his hand. “My fingers?”

  “Yes. You have small, dark bruises on the fingers of your right hand. I knew that your victim at the club, Danica Beale, bit her attacker on his right, gloved hand. There were brown leather slivers between some of her front teeth. Not many men wear any kind of gloves around here, nor have them readily available if needed. Much less brown leather ones. But I guess they’re more common where you’re from. I saw part of a brown leather glove poking up from your jacket pocket.”

  He smiled. “Very good.”

  “Also, there were only four cars in the hospital lot. Three had condensation on the windows, meaning they had been there for a while. The one that didn’t was obviously yours. It was an Infiniti SUV. That’s the engine I heard starting and driving away the other night at Corrine Harvey’s house.”

  “You never disappoint, Kendra.” He stopped and grabbed her arm. “Here we are.” He gestured to the bottom of the hill at an abandoned, water-filled quarry, its sides cut in straight, vertical sheaths. “Now do you remember?”

  She inhaled sharply. “Jurupa Quarry. Mary Delgado.” She turned. “And those trees…”

  “It’s where Burton McNair tried to hang his final victim. He murdered and hung three others in the forests around here: equidistant north, south, and east of the spot where the sheriff’s deputies killed his father a year before. Here, due west, you kept him from completing his work and killing Mary Delgado.” He smiled. “Tonight, you’re going to help me complete it for him in a much more satisfying way.”

  “You’re going to kill me and hang me from one of those trees.”

  “By George, I believe she’s got it.”

  “Oh, yes, I’ve definitely got it.” Keep him talking; she had the ropes frayed and was pulling gently on them.

  “As you saw each of your cases re-created, you had to know this was how it would end. My final re-creation must feature you as the victim. It’s the final movement of my symphony.”

  And he was getting ready for that symphony to end with a giant crescendo.

  Time was running out for her. She had to make her move.

  He took a step closer, his knife ready. “I’m almost sorry, Kendra. I know there will be others, but none I’ll enjoy as much as you. You are unique.”

  She looked down, and her shoulders tensed as she prepared to jerk with all her str
ength on the ropes.

  He nodded. “Unfortunately for you, sometimes history can be rewritten.”

  “And sometimes it can be repeated.”

  The ropes flew from her wrists!

  She leaped forward and jabbed her carved-bone blade into Chatsworth’s stomach.

  He swung with his own knife. Kendra ducked, and jammed her blade into the middle of his back. But he was moving, and it was a glancing blow.

  Not deep enough. Not deep enough.

  But it was deep enough for agony. He howled in pain and tried in vain to reach the protruding blade.

  Kendra ran a few yards away before turning. “Not a large blade but sufficiently lethal.”

  Chatsworth felt his stomach and stared incredulously at his bloody hand in the moonlight. He glared at Kendra. “You think you’ve won?”

  She backed away. “It’s not a game.”

  He reached into his jacket and pulled out a handgun.

  Shit.

  She dashed into the forest as he fired two shots at her.

  She ran deep into the dense foliage, trying to avoid anything that resembled an actual path. His footsteps pounded behind her, crunching leaves and snapping branches.

  Another gunshot. A tree branch exploded near her head. She turned sharply, threw herself to the ground, and rolled a few yards down a gentle slope. Hell, that blade in his back had barely slowed him down.

  She froze, holding her breath.

  He’d stopped somewhere behind her, she realized. Waiting for her to make another move, to reveal her position.

  Waiting for her to do something stupid.

  A full minute passed. Then another.

  A brisk wind kicked up, rustling the trees and giving her an opportunity to move down the hillside undetected.

  But also offering him an opportunity to sneak toward her.

  She crept farther down the hill, using the shadows as a cloak against the stark moonlight.

  There was a clearing ahead. No good. She’d be a sitting duck out there, even more limited in this direction. She was at the quarry’s rim, some forty feet above its granite bottom. There was water, but she had no way of knowing if it was twenty feet deep or ten inches.

  An indefensible position if ever there was one.

  She looked back up the slope.

  Was he still waiting for her?

  She slowly, quietly made her way back, timing her movements to the gusts of wind.

  “Kendra!”

  Pounding footsteps. Crunching brush.

  Coming her way.

  She broke into a run.

  But something caught her ankles and sent her flying. She hit the ground hard.

  She rolled over and saw what had tripped her.

  A length of rope, twenty feet or more, had been pulled taut between the trees.

  Chatsworth’s rope. It had to be Chatsworth’s rope.

  She jumped to her feet, but in that same moment, another rope snapped over her neck.

  She couldn’t breathe.

  Chatsworth whispered in her ear. “You can’t ruin my symphony, love. I’ve worked too hard.” He applied even more pressure.

  She felt her eyes bulge and her tongue swell as he choked the life from her. She could see their shadows in a death dance on the forest floor. Then her vision clouded, but she could see the shadow of the blade still sticking from his back …

  Not deep enough. Not deep enough.

  She bared her teeth, and with every ounce of energy left, hurled herself backward. They both tumbled to the ground.

  The ground met the blade and drove it deep into Chatworth’s back.

  He grunted, and his grip loosened.

  Kendra rolled away and jumped to her feet. She stood over him, her breath coming in gasps. She watched as blood bubbled from his wounds. He writhed in agony as the carved blade protruded from his chest. “Take it … out.”

  “No way. That blade is a gift from Stevie Wallach’s father. It was meant for your hero, Colby, but you’ll do as well. It’s incredibly thin and weighs only a few ounces. I guess it was easy to miss with a quick frisk.” She added fiercely, “Or maybe I had a little help from Stevie. What do you think?”

  Chatsworth’s eyes were wide, glittering, and full of hatred as he gazed up at her. “You bitch. Do you still think you’ve won? I’m too smart for you. We’re too smart for you. This is only the first battle.”

  “You’re a dead man, Chatsworth.” She stared coldly down at him. “There will be no other battles. Smart? You’re just a two-bit killer who decided to ride the coattails of a scumbag who was only a little more intelligent than you. He used you to amuse himself during those last months of his life. He pulled your strings, and you jumped.”

  “No!” His cheeks were flushed. “You don’t know anything. I was important to him. We were like brothers. He said that I was his eyes, his hands, his sword.” He coughed, and a thin rivulet of blood flowed from the corner of his mouth. “I gave him everything he asked of me. Well, almost. He kept talking about you and the gully. Always … the gully. It wasn’t my fault that I couldn’t give him you. But that’s okay, sometimes I thought he didn’t really … want me to be the one to deal with you anyway. Moriarty. He called himself … your … Moriarty.”

  “Sherlock’s greatest enemy? That’s ridiculous. He flattered both himself and our relationship. I’m no Sherlock, and he certainly didn’t have the brains of a Moriarty. He was only a butcher who ended up on that execution table at San Quentin.” She added fiercely, “As for you, you’d have ended up the same way if you hadn’t decided to give Colby one last gift. You shouldn’t have come after the people I love, and you shouldn’t have come after me, Chatsworth.”

  “Almost … made it.” His eyes were closing. “Do you think I’m afraid? I’m not afraid. Colby said that we’re above fear. The two of us are … different. I’ll get … over this. Just like him.”

  “You can’t get over death. You’re dying, Chatsworth.”

  “No, you’re wrong. You think you’re so smart, but you’re wrong about me … wrong about … Colby.”

  “Open your eyes and look at me,” Kendra said. “You’ll see that I’m not wrong. I want you to know this is the end. I want you to know that you’re on your way to hell, and nothing can stop it. Open your eyes, dammit.”

  He slowly opened his eyes.

  “That’s right, look at me,” Kendra said harshly. “And think about all those poor people you killed at Colby’s bidding. Think about how you’re going to burn for all eternity because of them.”

  She’d gotten through to him at last. For an instant, she saw realization and fear in his eyes. Then they were once more filled with a wild hatred. “The end? Never … you’ll never be…” He coughed, struggling for breath. “Closer … come closer, bitch. You’ve got to hear … Listen…”

  She leaned closer, until they were only inches apart. “I can hear you, Chatsworth. What are you trying to say to me?”

  “Only … this.” His eyes were burning into hers as he whispered, “Tetro … dotoxin.” Then his lids were closing. “Mereor…”

  He was dead.

  And Kendra was transfixed, frozen, as she stared down at him.

  Tetrodotoxin?

  She slowly sat back on her heels.

  “Kendra?” She was barely aware of Lynch kneeling beside her. “Thank God. I heard the shots when I was down the road. Are you hurt?”

  “No.” She moistened her lips. “I killed him, Lynch. But I don’t know…”

  “You’re in shock.” He put his arm around her. “You’re shivering…”

  “You’re right, I’m cold. I’m cold to my soul…”

  “Because you killed that bastard? You know he deserved it.”

  “Yes.”

  “Look, you don’t have to stay here with him. Let’s go back to the car. I’ve called Griffin, and his team is on the way by helicopter. It’s over, Kendra.”

  “Is it?” She was still looking down at Chatsworth�
��s face. “He didn’t think so.” Her mind was in high gear, thinking, searching, discarding, searching again. “And I’m not sure that I’m—” She broke off and leaned forward, her hands moving over Chatsworth’s body, searching his pockets.

  “What are you doing?” Lynch asked. “What are you looking for?”

  “I don’t know. It could be nothing.” She’d found a wallet. Nothing in it but a driver’s license and some cash. She dropped the wallet and jumped to her feet. “Maybe in his car…”

  She was running back to Chatsworth’s SUV, where it was parked on the hill.

  “What the hell?” Lynch was running after her.

  She was already in the front seat of Chatsworth’s SUV when he reached her. She’d grabbed the iPad from the front seat and was going through the menu. “I’ll check the memos. You check the glove box.”

  “And what am I’m looking for?”

  “Information.”

  “What kind of information?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Great.” He opened the glove box and started to go through it. “Nothing in here but some receipts, gloves…” He reached back. “And maybe…” He pulled out a small, ringed notepad. “This?”

  She gazed at it for a moment and then slowly took the notebook. “Maybe…” She flipped open the cover. “Addresses…” She felt suddenly sick. “One of them is Dean Halley’s.” She flipped more pages. More names, more places. The Go Nuclear Club, her own address …

  She flipped more pages.

  Tetrodotoxin.

  The word jumped out at her.

  And beneath it another name and address.

  She frantically flipped other pages. Nothing. No other writing for the rest of the notebook.

  “You found what you were looking for?” Lynch asked.

  “I think so. Maybe not enough. Give me a minute. I have to think about it.” She closed her eyes. Connect all the dots. Put it together.

  Impossible. It was impossible.

  But impossible was only a word.

  And she was terrified that word had become reality.

  “You’ll notice I’m being very patient,” Lynch said mildly.

  She opened her eyes. “Come on.” She jumped out of the car. “Or give me your car keys. I don’t care which.”