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PROLOGUE
Big Bear Lake, California
THOSE CHAMBER OF COMMERCE brochures were right on the money, John Jaden thought. It was freezing, and he was practically up to his ass in snow, yet surfers and sunbathers preened on a warm beach less than ninety minutes away. He’d seen them as he’d driven up the highway on his way to Big Bear.
A little longer than ninety minutes, he reminded himself. The highway patrol had made him turn around to buy tire chains before they let him up Bear Mountain. Annoying as hell. He knew how to handle himself on ice and snow, even if these other sunbaked idiots didn’t.
It didn’t matter. This was going to be the best day he’d had in a long time.
He pulled his jacket tighter around him as the snow fell harder. He’d left his car in a parking lot a mile back. Couldn’t risk getting stuck. Not today.
The snowplows hadn’t found their way to this cluster of rustic vacation houses on a street called Starvation Flats. He shook his head. What the hell kind of name was that? Probably a story there, but not one he’d care to explore once his business was done. Most of the houses appeared deserted on this Wednesday afternoon, with no fresh footprints coming or going from any of them. He’d only seen one car since he’d set out on foot, a group of pretty-boy ski bums on their way to the slopes.
Perfect.
He looked ahead to a two-story wood cottage at a bend in the road. The Bavarian-influenced structure reminded him of one of his grandmother’s old cuckoo clocks, just as it had when he’d first been shown the photo at dinner the night before.
A bit kitschy for its resident, a man he’d always respected for having taste and intelligence. He smiled as he pushed his white hair back from his forehead. Of course, if Shaw was all that smart, Jaden wouldn’t be standing in front of this house right now.
He steadied himself on the path to the front door. His jeans were wet from the snow, and his athletic shoes were better suited for running than protecting him from the elements.
No biggie. In just a couple of hours, he’d be tossing back whiskey shots in front of the fire pit at Gracias Madre.
He rapped on the door and waited.
No answer.
He tried again.
Nada.
Shit. He’d been told that Shaw was always—
Wait. He listened.
Squeaky hinges and hurried crunching footsteps on fresh powder.
Around back.
He bolted around the side of the house and leaped over the short fence. A stocky man was running away from the cabin, slogging through a snowdrift and pulling a long coat over his T-shirt and sweatpants. Jaden ran faster and overtook him.
“Dr. Shaw!”
Shaw stopped and looked up at him. His round face was red and covered with sweat. He was out of breath. “Jaden…” He finally wheezed.
“What the hell? Do you know how far I came to see you?” He looked down at Shaw’s bare feet in the snow. “No shoes? You were in that much of a hurry to get away from me?”
He glanced around nervously. “I wasn’t sure if you were alone.”
“Of course I’m alone. You see anyone else here?” He smiled. “How important do you think you are?”
He shook his head. “I’m not going back to London.”
“No one’s asking you to.”
He studied him for a long moment. “How in the hell did you find me?”
“I had help. It’s hard for people to hide and stay hidden these days. No matter how smart you are.”
“Does he know where I am?”
“Sure. Who do you think sent me?”
“That’s why I ran, Jaden. I don’t trust him. I don’t trust any of them. If you’re smart, you shouldn’t, either.”
“Stop being paranoid. He just wants to talk. To consult with you occasionally. If it’s a matter of money…”
“The money was never a problem.”
“Then you can stop running. He’ll find you wherever you go anyway. He just wants to know that you’ll be available when you’re needed.”
His eyes narrowed on Jaden’s face. “That’s it? That’s why he sent you all the way here?”
He nodded. “He’s just looking for assurances. You know how he is.”
Shaw stared at him for a moment. Then he nodded, and his fingers ran through his rumpled gray hair. “Okay. But I’ll never go back to London. He has to know that.”
“He understands. And now I’m glad that you do, too. Thank you.” He extended his gloved right hand.
Shaw half smiled as he started to take a step forward to shake his hand. “What would you have done if I’d said no?”
He shrugged. “Same thing.”
Two shots fired from his glove, muffled by a silencer.
Shaw dropped to his knees. A bloody stain spread across his chest and drizzled onto the pristine white snow.
His lips moved as if he was trying to speak, but no words came forth.
“Shhh.” Jaden put away his gun. “You’re a smart man, Dr. Shaw. You had to know it would end this way.”
Shaw fell facedown into the bloody snow.
As his last breath left him, the wind whipped up and blew fresh powder from the snowdrifts around them.
CHAPTER
1
Pepperdine University
Malibu, California
“ANY QUESTIONS?”
Kendra Michaels looked out at the four-hundred-odd seminar participants at Pepperdine’s Elkins Auditorium. She’d just delivered her latest research paper at a conference on aging, and it had seemed to go well. She’d documented several success stories using music therapy to treat Alzheimer’s patients, but there was still resistance in the medical community. Not as much as there had been only a couple of years ago, when most academics still put her in the alternative-therapies woo-woo column.
She had helped move that needle, one study, one paper, one boring academic conference at a time.
Try not to go on autopilot, she told herself. Stay in the moment.
But how could she, when she knew that the man in the front row was obviously angry with his colleague about something. His pursed lips, narrowed eyes, and clenched fingers told the story as she watched him make small talk before the presentation. And how about that female brain surgeon who clearly hadn’t operated on anyone in months? And, sadly, probably wouldn’t again, if the slight tremor in her left hand was any indication.
Stay in the here and now. Answer the questions with crystal clarity and politeness even as condescending as some of them were. She’d show them.
She looked up toward the back of the auditorium.
She froze.
It couldn’t be.
A man stood in the doorway, partially silhouetted by the light from the corridor beyond. She couldn’t make out his facial features, but she didn’t need to.
&nbs
p; His ramrod-straight posture, impeccably tailored suit, crossed arms, and slight tilt of the head told her all she needed to know.
Dr. Charles Waldridge was in the room.
How long had it been since she’d seen him? Four years, maybe five. And then it had only been an accidental meeting at a conference. She felt the usual rush of excitement and intimidation. Suddenly everyone in the room faded but the man in the doorway. No one on earth had changed her life more. Why was he even on this continent?
Concentrate.
Get through with the questions.
She finished the Q & A, and as the participants left the auditorium, Waldridge moved down the aisle toward her.
“Well done, Kendra.”
He spoke in his British accent that always sounded distinctly upper-crust to Kendra, though she knew he’d grown up in a working-class neighborhood in South London. Waldridge was in his late forties, and he had a few more lines and gray hairs since she’d last seen him. But his angular good looks hadn’t faded, and the added maturity only made his face more intriguing.
And there was that ever-present fierce and intelligent spark in his dark eyes that had held her captive since the first instant she had seen him.
She smiled and came toward him. “Dr. Waldridge…”
“Please.” He made a face. “I thought we’d moved far beyond that. Why do you keep forgetting? It’s Charles.”
“Charles … I can’t help it. I still have trouble being informal with you, dammit. You catch me off guard and I’m that starstruck kid again.” She gave him a quick hug. “I didn’t see your name on the attendee list.”
“Because I’m not an attendee. This is a bit out of my specialty, you know.”
“Don’t tell me you’re teaching here?”
“Hardly. I haven’t taught anywhere since I left St. Bartholomew’s.” He stared deep into her eyes. “Everything okay?”
His stare made her uncomfortable even though she knew he was looking at her clinically. She fought the urge to look away. “Yes. My eyes are fine. No cloudiness, no watering.”
“Good. Have you been examined lately?”
“About a year ago. Still almost twenty-twenty.”
“Excellent.” He looked from right to left and back again, then spoke softly. “Everything I could have hoped for, Kendra.”
“I didn’t think doctors made house calls anymore.”
He smiled. “Only for very special patients. And you’ll always be very special to me.”
Kendra finally forced herself to look away. She’d been born blind and spent her first twenty years in the darkness. She knew she’d still be there had it not been for Waldridge and his experimental stem-cell procedure. She was nineteen when her mother had seen mention of the Night Watch Project in academic journals and brought her, uninvited, to the front door of Saint Bartholomew’s Hospital in London. Her mother had ruthlessly browbeaten Waldridge and his staff until they agreed to see Kendra and eventually grant her a spot in their test group.
“It’s been over nine years,” she said. “But this all still feels new to me. I don’t take it for granted. I never will.”
“Sight, you mean?”
“Yes. I’m still making discoveries. All the time.”
“You have a wonderfully inquisitive mind, Kendra. You always have. I could tell the first time I met you.”
“So why aren’t you in England poking around in that lab? There are a lot of other people in this world who need your help.”
“Oh, it’s the eternal problem. Finances. Research is expensive. There are occasions I have to leave the lab, hat in hand. This time it has brought me to your shores. But when I learned you were here, I knew I had to come see you in action.”
“You’ve seen me work before.”
“I’ve seen you working with your patients, which was miraculous. But here, watching you hold your own against some of the top specialists in the world … It’s a side of you I hadn’t seen.” He added quietly, “It made me very proud.”
Her face flushed. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
“I was hoping I could take you to dinner if you know a decent place nearby.”
“We’re in Malibu, California. There are dozens of decent places nearby.” She gathered her presentation materials and gestured toward the door. “And, just so you know, I’m taking you to dinner.”
* * *
WALDRIDGE FOLLOWED KENDRA half a mile up the Pacific Coast Highway to Geoffrey’s, a restaurant offering a large Mediterranean-themed patio and a spectacular view of the ocean. They arrived just in time to enjoy the sunset, a pale orange orb shimmering over calm waves, and an excellent dinner.
They followed the meal with coffee, and, after a few minutes of small talk, Waldridge folded his hands on the tabletop. “Okay, Kendra … time for me to say something that’s been on my mind for a long time. I don’t believe I’ve ever given you a proper apology.”
Her eyes narrowed on his face. “Apology for what?”
“For the way I treated you in those first few years after your procedure. I turned you into a show pony, trotting you out for the media, medical conferences, fund-raising dinners … I know it couldn’t have been fun for you.”
She looked away from him. “I tried to cooperate. But not always gracefully. I was going through a lot at the time.”
“Of course you were. Your reality changed overnight. And I was too wrapped up in my project’s success to even think about that. I wanted everyone to see what was possible. For someone to go from total blindness to near twenty-twenty vision, that was a dream come true for so many of us who had been working for years. You were our first great success. There have been several since then, but at the time, you were totally unique. You were the key to showing people that this was the path worthy of all their attention and funding.”
Kendra nodded. She was silent, remembering that time. “I’m sorry I didn’t handle it better. I guess I just kind of … rebelled.”
“I didn’t blame you. None of us did. You probably don’t know about the others who came after you, but many of them had a difficult time after gaining their sight. A life-changing experience like this has completely redefined who they are, along with every single one of their relationships. There have been divorces, family estrangements, bouts of severe depression…”
“That actually doesn’t surprise me.”
“Because you lived through it yourself. One would think that a gift like this would bring nothing but joy. But as you found out, it doesn’t solve all of life’s problems, and that disappointment can bring some hard feelings.”
“Exactly. It took me awhile to find out who I was. I call those my ‘wild days.’ I wanted to experience everything I could, no matter how risky or dangerous it was. I know I scared the hell out of my friends and family.”
“And me,” he said ruefully.
She shrugged. “I came through okay. I’m grateful for the time and effort you were able to give me while I was fighting my way out of the dark. And I don’t regret those wild days one bit. It helped to make me who I am.”
“Which is an extraordinary young woman. But you always were that.” He leaned forward in his chair. “Since the last time I saw you, you’ve become distinctly more extraordinary.”
She cocked her head. “As much as I enjoy hearing you call me ‘extraordinary’ in that British accent of yours, I don’t know why you would say that.”
“I’m referring to your fascinating sideline, of course.” He smiled teasingly. “You’ve become Kendra Michaels, crime fighter.”
She cringed. “Oh, don’t say it like that. Better still, don’t say it at all.”
“Why not? It’s the truth, isn’t it?”
“I’ve consulted with the FBI and a local police department on a few cases.” She shook her head emphatically. “Believe me, it’s nothing I’ve ever asked for.”
“Success breeds demand, and from what I understand, you’re very much in demand.”
�
�Crazy, isn’t it?”
“Not at all. In a way, it makes perfect sense.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
“I do. Almost all the vision-impaired people I’ve known have developed their other senses to compensate. They know who’s in a room from the particular sound of each person’s footsteps. From a mere whiff, they can identify one of dozens of colognes, soaps, and even tobacco brands. They make themselves aware of their surroundings in a way that few other people can, just as a survival mechanism. I imagine that gives you quite an edge in the investigative arena.”
Kendra nodded. “I’ve found that most detectives only go by what they can see. They don’t pay enough attention to the sounds, the smells, and the textures. A lot of answers can be found there.”
“But I’m sure you also see things they don’t.”
“Sometimes. Because I didn’t have sight for so long. I now savor the things I see. I try to absorb every detail just because I can. I suppose that helps in the investigative work, too.”
He shook his head. “Like I said, extraordinary. Are you working on anything now?”
“No. I still haven’t quite recovered from my last case. It was a serial killer, probably the worst I’ve ever come across. I spent months trying to find him, and it took a real toll on me. As I said, it’s nothing I’ve ever asked for.”
“Then why do you do it?”
She thought for a moment. “When there’s a killer out there who can and will strike again, it seems wrong to refuse if I know I might be able to help catch him.”
Waldridge nodded. “You have a good heart, but you’re right to take care of yourself, Kendra.” He was silent a moment, gazing out at the ocean. “I’m sorry I even brought it up.”
“It’s okay.” But she wasn’t sure it was okay. There had been something odd about that hesitation. She shifted uneasily in her seat before changing the subject. “So what have you been working on?”
“I’m afraid I can’t talk about it.”
“Aw, come on. I practically bared my soul to you.”
He smiled. “And I felt honored by every word. But I really can’t return the favor. I wish I could.”
Night Watch--A Novel Page 1
