She held up the flash drive. “I’ll be eating leftover pasta while I watch this ridiculous wedding video over and over again.”
He raised his hands in surrender. “I thought I’d try. If you feel like getting away from it for a while, we can always work on those wrist-breaking techniques.” His voice lowered to teasing sensuality as he turned and strolled away. “Or any other holds that interest you. I live to serve…”
La Jolla Shores
La Jolla, California
Gil Corkle hated the beach.
Nothing about it was the least bit appealing to him. Not the coarse sand. Not the cold and dirty water. Not the incessant roar of the pounding surf. He wanted to be anyplace but here.
But Vivianne Kerstine had insisted.
Corkle stopped at the edge of the parking lot to take off his shoes. Damned if he was going to ruin a two-thousand-dollar pair of Berluti loafers to accommodate his boss’s foolishness.
He carried his shoes as he trudged barefoot through the sand. It was hot. Another thing he hated about the damned beach.
He could see Vivianne in the distance, ankle deep in water.
She didn’t face him as he approached. “You told me Elena Meyer wouldn’t be a problem.”
He stopped just short of the surf. “She was smarter than any of us gave her credit for. It would have been better if you’d realized that from the beginning.”
Vivianne turned and glared at him. In almost any other context, she would be considered beautiful, with high cheekbones, full lips, and long dark hair. Now she was absolutely terrifying. “So this is my fault?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Sounded like it to me.”
Corkle swallowed hard. It wasn’t wise to piss off Vivianne, especially since he was already on thin ice with her. Damage control. “I’m just saying … she surprised us all.”
“But once that happened, it was your job to stop her.”
“I know. I know. I’m sorry. She made it to a crowded street before I could get to her.”
“Unfortunate.”
Corkle didn’t like the way she said that. He’d seen what happened to people who disappointed Vivianne. He stepped closer to her, ignoring the water lapping around his trouser cuffs. “That video is meaningless without Elena to explain it to them. The police won’t have anything to go on.”
“It’s not the police that concerns me.”
“Then what does?”
“Kendra Michaels.”
“I don’t see a problem. Surely without Elena to—”
“Don’t underestimate Michaels, Corkle. I’ve researched her, and she produces when no one else is able to do it. That means we’re now all at risk. Elena was trying to get to Kendra Michaels for a reason.”
Corkle said softly, “I can do something about that.”
“Like you did last night? I don’t know if we can withstand any more of your ham-fisted problem solving.”
He didn’t like the coldness of her voice. “I’m better than that,” he said quickly. “You know it.”
“Just cool your jets, Corkle.” Vivianne once again turned to face the ocean breeze. “Before you do something rash that will make everything more of a disaster than it is already. I’ve been thinking about it. Kendra Michaels may be of some use to us…”
CHAPTER
2
“LIZ, I THOUGHT WE’D never get rid of you.”
So said the bride’s father as he toasted the happy couple, following a rather flat speech by the maid of honor. The rest of his speech was sweet, and it seemed no less heartfelt the tenth time Kendra watched than the first. She leaned back on the living room sofa in her condo studying the wedding guests around him. There was nothing in his words or their reaction that seemed out of place. Time to move on. She was wasting her time with him.
A knock at her door.
Her friend Olivia’s knock. And the fact that she was using just one knuckle made it apparent she was already holding the door key in her hand.
“Come in!”
Olivia inserted the key, threw the lock, and opened the door. “You’re pissed, aren’t you?”
“For practically drawing Metcalf a map to my location and destroying one of my few precious moments of leisure time? Why would you think that?”
“Sorry.” Olivia closed the door behind her. Her long brown hair was tied in a bun, which only accentuated her strikingly beautiful face and olive-toned skin. Kendra had known her since they were children at the Woodward Academy in Oceanside. Kendra had spent years overcoming pangs of guilt for leaving her friend behind in the darkness, but Olivia had only expressed happiness for Kendra’s good fortune. “I did think about it. But Metcalf can be persuasive. He said he had something you’d want to know about.”
“He was right. It’s good that you told him.”
“My excellent judgment triumphs again.” Olivia cocked her head at the sounds coming from Kendra’s television. “What are you watching?”
“A video of a wedding reception.”
“Whose?”
“I have no earthly idea.”
Olivia sat on the couch next to her. “This reality TV craze has gotten out of hand.”
“It’s not a TV show. It’s a video that a dead woman wanted me to see.”
Olivia nodded. “Huh. If it was anyone else, I’d swear you were joking.”
“Pretty sick joke.”
“It’s not a joke, just your sick life.” She got more comfortable on the couch. “Tell me about it.”
Kendra brought her up to speed on what Griffin and Metcalf had told her about the young murder victim and her mysterious video. Then she played the video through for her again.
After she finished, Olivia sat in silence for a long moment. “Just one question. Who at this wedding reception thought this was a bad idea and needed to get the hell out of there?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You didn’t hear?”
“Hear what?”
“Rewind the video. Go back to right before the Bonnie Raitt song begins … ‘Feels Like Home.’”
Kendra eyed her skeptically. “Are you punking me?”
“No. Do it!”
Kendra picked up her TV remote and rewound the video. She stopped a few times before coming to the section Olivia had indicated.
Kendra listened for a few seconds. “I don’t know what you’re—”
“Shh! Listen!”
Kendra cocked her head. The room was noisy with guests making good-natured fun of each other’s dance moves. Then there was a rasping sound, like a harsh whisper. But the whisper was so extremely soft it was totally unidentifiable.
Olivia turned. “Hear that?”
Kendra skipped back a few seconds and turned up the volume full blast.
More rasping, then a slightly more intelligible, “We need to get the hell out of here.”
“Now do you hear it?” Olivia asked.
Kendra skipped back again and leaned forward. She concentrated and this time she heard it all.
“This is a bad idea. We need to get the hell out of here.”
“Then someone else speaks,” Olivia said. “They’re whispering to each other. Play it over.”
The second whisper was even more muffled.
“Why? When it’s all here.”
Kendra replayed the two segments several times.
“This is a bad idea. We need to get the hell out of here.”
And then the answer.
“Why? When it’s all here.”
The first was spoken with a sense of urgency, Kendra thought. Of danger.
As far as she could tell, the second person was almost lazy, amused.
Olivia smiled. “I can’t believe I caught something you didn’t. I think relying on your eyesight is starting to make you soft in the hearing department.”
“I’ve always said you had better hearing than I do. I just worked harder training myself to listen. But this one went
right by me. Good job, Olivia.”
“This is a bad idea. We need to get the hell out of here.”
“Why? When it’s all here.”
Kendra shook her head. “But I can’t even tell if either one of them is a man or woman. Can you?”
“No. They’re both too low and the noise drowns them. I guess this could be anything,” Olivia said. “Someone who has run into an ex they didn’t expect to see or an estranged family member…”
“This is a bad idea. We need to get the hell out of here.”
“Why? When it’s all here…”
Kendra let the video continue as she thought for a moment. “I don’t think it was either of those things. There was an edge to that first voice. Yet I can’t be sure of anything because it was too darned soft. But I do know it wasn’t one of the speakers in the bridal party or anyone else that I heard on this video. It might have been one of the guests. It was a huge wedding. Maybe if I go through it enough times, I’ll catch another voice that sounds familiar.”
“How many times?”
Kendra sighed. “Oh, maybe fifty or so…”
“Then maybe I should listen,” Olivia said slyly.
“Rub it in. But you’re welcome to stay. Have you eaten? I could order in from that Italian restaurant on the corner.”
“Thanks, but I have to get back to work.”
“Work” for Olivia was her popular web destination, Outtasite, which featured news, interviews, and product reviews, all geared to a vision-impaired audience. In the past few years, the site had grown from a hobby to a six-figure annual income for Olivia.
Kendra checked her watch. “It’s already almost ten o’clock. And you accuse me of being a workaholic.”
Olivia stood. “No rest for the weary. I have a conference call with the company in Japan that does my website language translations there.”
“Wow. When did you get to be such a media mogul, Olivia?”
“Around the same time you started catching killers. Guess we each have our own way of passing the time. I like mine better.” She walked toward the door. “Later.”
“Good night, Olivia.”
“Yeah, we’ll see. Depends on the Japanese.” Olivia left the condo and pulled the door closed behind her.
Kendra suddenly felt very tired. Her eyes were stinging, but she couldn’t take them from the screen. Maybe just a couple more viewings …
“This is a bad idea. We need to get the hell out of here.”
“Why? When it’s all here.”
* * *
BUZZZ. BUZZZ.
Kendra jolted awake.
She checked her watch. 7:50 A.M.
She was still on the couch, and the video file had been playing all night on an endless loop. She had drifted in and out of consciousness, catching snatches of a song or an occasional few words from a toast swirling in her head like some kind of bizarre dream. But she felt no closer to solving the puzzle than she had the night before.
Buzzz. Buzzz. Buzzz.
It was her main door buzzer that had awakened her, she realized. It sounded more persistent now. Impatient.
Lynch. He favored three button presses when two failed to get an immediate response.
Buzzz. Buzzz. Buzzz.
She moved to the intercom and pressed the button. “If you didn’t bring coffee, I’m sending you away.”
“I brought coffee.” Lynch’s voice. “Come down and get it.”
“Why would I do that?” Kendra ran her hands through her messy hair. “I just woke up.”
“We’re going on a road trip.”
“Like hell I am.”
“Get down here, will you? I’m double-parked.”
“A road trip to where?”
“The country club where that wedding reception was held. The FBI tracked it down. If you want them to handle it on their own, it’s your choice. I just thought—”
“I’ll be down in three minutes.”
A change of clothes, a quick hair brushing, and a spritz of mouthwash later, Kendra stepped outside her building and climbed into Lynch’s Ferrari. She picked up the large coffee waiting for her in the cup holder.
“I’m surprised you didn’t let yourself up,” she said. “You still have that spare key, don’t you?”
Lynch shifted the car into gear and pulled away. “I do, but I didn’t want to abuse the privilege. You’re a woman who never likes to be taken for granted. Plus, I was double-parked and this car has a way of attracting the attention of San Diego’s finest.”
“I wonder why? It couldn’t be more ostentatious. Serves you right.”
“I tried calling you, but it went straight to voicemail.”
“Because my phone’s dead. That reminds me.” Kendra pulled her phone from her pocket, unplugged Lynch’s phone from the lighter socket, and inserted her own phone in its place.
Lynch glanced down at his phone. “I was charging that.”
“Then you should have two charging cables in here. I’m a guest in your car. Don’t be a rude host.”
“Hmm. I think there’s only one rude person in here.”
“Relax. I’ll plug yours back in as soon as I get a little juice.”
“So you say.”
Kendra took a swig of coffee. “So where are we going?”
“Via Pacifica Country Club in San Clemente. Your buddy Metcalf burned the midnight oil to track it down.”
“How’d he do it?”
“He took screen grabs of the place in the video and ran them through an online image recognition tool. Probably Google Image. He compared the hits with the reception hall in the video.”
“Score another one for social media.”
Lynch nodded. “I’m surprised Metcalf didn’t call you himself. He rarely misses an opportunity to try and impress you.”
“It’s not like that. Metcalf is very popular with the ladies.”
“Except for this lady. The one he really wants. And stop denying it. You know I’m right.”
“Maybe.”
“Definitely.”
She looked out the car window. “I’m surprised he called you. I didn’t think you and he were so tight.”
“We’re not. He has no idea I know.”
“Then how—?”
“I worked out of that office for years. As hard as it may be for you to believe, some of my old coworkers actually have some affection for me.”
“So much affection that they’re willing to commit a felony by handing over confidential details of an in-progress Federal investigation?”
“What’s a little jail time in the face of my blinding charisma?”
“I’m feeling a little ill.”
“In any case, I keep my sources private. Metcalf is meeting with the country club’s operations manager at 9:00 A.M. He won’t mind us crashing in. At least he won’t mind seeing you there.”
“So the FBI has no idea we’re joining them?”
“None whatsoever.” Lynch tightened his grip on the steering wheel as he pulled onto the I-5 freeway. “It’s more fun this way, don’t you think?”
* * *
EVEN WITH THE USUAL morning traffic, they made it to the upscale coastal town of San Clemente in under an hour. A few minutes after that, they pulled onto the sprawling grounds of the Via Pacifica Country Club, whose large logo signs featured the words GOLF-TENNIS-SWIM in bold gold lettering. They made their way to the large clubhouse and parked.
As they walked across the parking lot, Kendra gazed at the spectacular valley view. “Stunning. You can see why this would be a great place for weddings.”
“From what I hear, the golf isn’t bad either. I know a Secret Service agent who retired nearby after working on Nixon’s detail. He gets guest passes as a perk for doing occasional security work for them. They have quite the wealthy clientele here.”
He pulled open the tinted-glass door and motioned for Kendra to enter.
The foyer was striking, with Italian tile and two-story floor-t
o-ceiling windows. A cherrywood reception counter stood vacant in the center of the area and plaques and framed photographs covered the wood-paneled walls.
Kendra walked over and looked at the photographs. “Charity events, celebrity golf tournaments, even a movie wrap party.”
Lynch nodded approvingly at their surroundings. “I’d host a party here.”
“That’s what we like to hear!” A chipper voice sounded behind them.
Kendra and Lynch turned to see a small, blond woman entering from a doorway the foyer’s far end. She extended her hand. “Hannah Coltrane, events director. Beautiful here, isn’t it?”
Lynch smiled and took her hand into his own. “Extremely.”
Kendra couldn’t help rolling her eyes at his cheesy flirtation, but the woman obviously enjoyed it.
At that moment, the front door opened and Metcalf stepped in. He looked surprised to see Kendra and Lynch. “Oh, hello … Here for a round of golf?”
“Hardly,” Kendra said. “Good work on ID’ing this place from the video. You didn’t waste time.”
Metcalf shot Lynch a sour glance. “Good news travels fast.”
Hannah glanced from one to the other. “So … you’re not here to book an event?”
Lynch cocked his head toward her. “Go ahead, Metcalf. Do your thing with the badge.”
Metcalf flipped open his wallet and displayed his ID with all the flair and authority of a someone who had watched far too much television as a child. “Roland Metcalf, FBI. Are you Hannah?”
She took a step away from Lynch. “Yes. I was told to expect you, Agent Metcalf.”
“Good. I promise this won’t take long. Can we see your large event room?”
“Of course. Follow me.”
She led them down a short hallway Kendra recognized from a shot in the video of guests signing the guest book. They stepped through a pair of open double doors to find themselves in the large events room, which was filled with large round tables being set by a staff of about a dozen servers.
“We’re having a real estate awards luncheon here today,” Hannah said. “Sorry things are a bit hectic.”
“No problem,” Kendra said. She scanned the area, paying special attention to the carved pillars. “This is it, all right. The pillars, the doors, the carpet pattern…”
Kendra glanced around. It may have been the video’s subtle brainwashing while she slept, but every corner of the room now had a sound, tune, or speech associated with it.
Double Blind--A Novel Page 3
