Don’t think of it. It may have been an uneasy sleep born of terror and nightmares but she’d take it. She couldn’t control her subconscious while she was sleeping, so she’d use it to fuel her determination while awake. Just don’t let the thought of Colby get in the way while she was wide-awake and searching for him.
Instead, think of what she was going to say to Beth and how she was to handle her response.
Lord, she was tired of trying to handle everything around her. As for what she was going to say, there was no question. The truth and nothing but the truth. Beth was no child and had suffered years of oppression. If she wanted to help, Kendra would never keep her in the dark.
Kendra knew the dangers of that darkness.
* * *
BETH GAVE A LOW WHISTLE. “DEAR GOD, Kendra, that sounds very, very weird. And downright scary.” She had listened quietly while Kendra had related the events after Beth had left her last night. She lifted her cup to her lips. “And fascinating. I’d love to meet your Sam Zackoff. I remember you told me he helped you and Eve get me out of that hospital, but I’ve never had a chance to thank him. And I never dreamed computers could be so interesting. Of course, I was in that hospital during the years when all those high-tech high jinks were being developed.”
“I could wish these particular high jinks were a little less fascinating,” Kendra said dryly. “It was a distinctly uneasy experience.”
“I can see how it would be.” Beth reached across the table and grasped Kendra’s hand. “Sorry. The concept just interested me. It must have been terrible for you. I can imagine how it would be to see a message from a monster seemingly appear out of nowhere in front of you.” She added gently, “But now you know that you were right, that Colby is still alive. I know that doesn’t bring you satisfaction, but it should bring you vindication.”
“Hollow victory.”
“It’s a step forward. I’m trying to be optimistic.” She finished her coffee. “Now, let’s go and see what’s on that houseboat.”
Kendra’s brows rose. “I believe I mentioned that I might have a little trouble getting permission.”
“You’ll get around it.”
“I’m going to go see Griffin at the FBI and see if I can get him to use his clout to get me inside.”
“See, I told you that you’d get around it.”
“And I’m not sure that I should take you along on an errand Colby is sending me on.”
“Why not?” Beth met her gaze. “Are you afraid Colby will connect me with you? Too late. If he’s spying on you through that computer, he probably knows who and what I am to you. Right?”
She nodded. “I’m afraid that’s true. But I can keep you under the radar.”
Beth shook her head. “It would only show Colby I’m important to you if you try to hide me.”
“So much for skating around the edges. I’m sorry, Beth.”
“I’m not. I’m beginning to dislike this Colby intensely.” Her lips thinned. “That computer nonsense was really creepy.”
“I would say the murders were a good deal more intimidating.”
“Yes, but you’re far more accustomed to violence and mayhem than I am. But he was trying to scare and manipulate you with that computer message. I don’t like manipulation. I was manipulated most of my adult life while I was penned up in that hospital. I hate for anyone to try to do that to you.”
Kendra could see how that would strike Beth. She would always remember those years and fight against their happening again. Even the karate lessons and physical training in self-defense were part of that battle for control of her life. “I’m with you. But that doesn’t mean I’ve changed my mind about trying to keep you as much out of this as possible.”
“I didn’t think it would. It’s your nature. I just wanted you to realize that it was useless to go overboard in that direction by hiding me in the cellar.”
Her lips twitched. “I have no cellar.”
She waved her hand. “See, total waste of time. So now that we’ve established that, do you have something for me to do that would prove useful?”
“You can check on the executive who is paying for the houseboat where Sheila Hunter was living.” She gave her the name. “And find out whatever you can from the people where she works.”
“Got it. Anything else?”
“The computer geek who might have been tapped by Colby while he was in prison. He’s important. You can help me locate him.”
“And may I go with you to the houseboat?”
She hesitated.
Beth shook her head. “No cellar, Kendra,” she reminded softly.
She sighed. “Okay.”
“Great.” Beth got to her feet. “So let’s see how we can go about manipulating that bastard, Colby.”
Kendra pushed back her chair. “Slow down. First, I have to see about manipulating Special Agent Griffin,” she said dryly. “And that’s not going to be easy.”
CHAPTER 7
“NO,” GRIFFIN SAID FLATLY. “I’M not going to interfere with local law enforcement. We have enough trouble maintaining harmonious relations.”
Kendra tried to hold on to her temper. She’d been trying to persuade him for the last ten minutes and gotten nowhere. “I’ve shown you that computer message from Colby. He killed Sheila Hunter, and he’s going to kill again.”
“And I’m sure that you’ll show that to the detective in charge, and he’ll add it to the evidence. It’s their case, not ours.” He shrugged. “And there’s no proof that message was from Colby. Copycat.”
“It’s not a copycat. He repeated the same words in that message he used to me when he was in prison.”
“Really? I’m sure there could be an explanation for that similarity. San Diego PD just has to find it.”
“Look, Griffin, I’m not going to disturb evidence. You know me better than that. Just let me go in and see what the bastard wants me to see.”
He just looked at her.
But he had an expression of sly satisfaction, and he hadn’t kicked her out of his office. Was he enjoying this? It was possible. Their relationship was often conflicted, and he’d never liked the fact that he couldn’t control her as he did his agents.
“I’m not going to beg you, Griffin. I’m sure you’d enjoy that, but it’s not going to happen.” She put her hands flat on his desk. “I’m just going to ask you what you want from me.”
“Why, I don’t know what you mean. We’re both professionals, and we’re merely having a difference of opinion.”
“What do you want?” she repeated.
He was silent, then nodded. “What any civilized professional requests to settle a dispute. Compromise. If I do you a favor, it’s only reasonable to expect a favor in return.”
“What kind of favor?” she asked warily.
He smiled. “I haven’t decided.”
“What?”
“I believe I’d like to tuck that favor away for a rainy day.”
“And let you hold it over my head for the foreseeable future?”
“That’s about it.” He leaned back in his chair. “After all, it’s not as if I’m going to ask you to do anything illegal. Considering my position, that would go without saying.”
“Would it? I don’t know what you’ll ask me.”
“No, you don’t. And that may bother you a little. But no more than the discomfort you’ve caused me on occasion. And this is going to be something of a headache. I’ll have to make a call and back it up with my presence.” He looked at his watch. “I have an appointment. But I could cancel it and call the superintendent in charge of the Hunter case. Should I do it?”
She hesitated. If she made the promise, she would be bound to keep it. She hated the idea of being obligated to Griffin.
She wanted to sock him.
She turned toward the door. “Make the call.”
* * *
THE EARLY-MORNING SUN SHIMMERED ON the San Diego Bay as Kendra and Beth drove slowly to
ward Marina Cortez. They had stopped for coffee at Starbucks when Kendra had joined Beth after talking to Griffin. She had wanted to give Griffin plenty of time to get his ducks in a row. It should have been a beautiful drive, but Kendra couldn’t shake the horrible image that had greeted her and Lynch there the other night.
It was now quieter, with a single TV news van parked nearby and a reporter from the local Spanish-language station doing his stand-up on the dock. The houseboat was still cordoned off with yellow police tape, and four men in their shirtsleeves were waiting nearby.
Waiting for her.
“Do you know them?” Beth asked.
“Yes. Three of them are cops, the other is FBI Special Agent Michael Griffin. He’s the man I had to stop to see at FBI headquarters downtown. He’s the only reason I’m being allowed in here today.”
“Good of him to show up,” Beth said. “I’m surprised. You were looking pretty grim when you came back to the car after seeing him.”
“I was feeling pretty grim.”
“But evidently he decided to come and smooth things over for you.”
“That’s the way it looks, doesn’t it? More likely to make sure I play nice with the local cops. He stuck his neck out for me, and he wants to keep me from abusing the privilege.”
“Will it work?”
“We’ll know soon.”
They parked and walked up the narrow dock to Sheila Hunter’s houseboat. Kendra extended her hand to Stokes. “Detective, I do appreciate this.”
Stokes shook her hand. “Thank my boss. Or my boss’s boss.” He grimaced. “Or whoever your FBI associate here strong-armed.”
“Strong-armed?” Griffin smiled. “Is that really how we describe cooperation between our law-enforcement agencies? I merely made a request.”
Stokes gestured to the two other men. “I believe you’ve met Detectives Ketchum and Starger. They’ve gone over every inch of this place since the night of the murder. If you would care to tell them what you’re looking for, I’m sure they would be happy to—”
“I have no idea what I’m looking for,” Kendra said.
The detectives exchanged a look. “No idea at all?”
“No.”
“Okay.” Stokes’s tone was sour. “So much for cooperation between law-enforcement agencies.”
Kendra turned toward Griffin. She wasn’t sure how much information he’d given to their superior, and she wasn’t anxious to share what probably would sound like a wild-eyed conspiracy theory.
“Look,” Griffin said. “Dr. Michaels promised to share any observations she makes while in Sheila Hunter’s houseboat. That was my deal with your superintendent, and she will honor that. Fair enough?”
Stokes motioned toward Beth. “Who’s this?”
“Her name is Beth Avery. I brought her to take notes.”
Stokes turned toward Griffin. “Was she part of your deal, too?”
“I suppose she is now.”
Stokes handed Kendra, Beth, and Griffin pairs of latex evidence gloves. “If you wish to touch something, call one of us over to supervise.”
Kendra snapped on her gloves. “No problem, I have a feeling you won’t be too far away.”
“We won’t. This crime scene is still under the jurisdiction of the San Diego PD.”
Griffin nodded. “And I’m sure you’ll keep reminding us of that.”
“Only if it becomes absolutely necessary. It’s up to you,” Stokes smiled. “Ready?”
Am I ready, Colby?
What have you got to show me in there?
You must have been here in this very spot, plotting, planning.
Killing.
She nodded. “Yes, I’m ready.”
They stepped off the dock and walked through the doorway of the boxy one-story houseboat. Kendra was immediately struck by the luxurious interior that eschewed any hint of a nautical theme. The floors were covered by intricately patterned tile that looked like something out of a Beverly Hills estate. The lighting was soft, with several small ceiling spots highlighting framed art deco travel posters for European ski destinations.
Beth stepped around a large brown leather sofa. “Nice place. Very nice. I can see why you thought an online journalist wouldn’t be able to afford digs like this, Kendra.”
“I told you, it’s registered to an executive of her media company.” Kendra’s eyes darted around the room. “Strange.”
“What?” Beth asked.
“There are a few objects in here that have been wiped clean. Recently, in the last day or two.” She turned toward Stokes. “I know forensics wouldn’t have done it. Your men wouldn’t have done it either, would they?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but our department doesn’t provide maid service for murder victims.”
She pointed to a guitar propped up on a black metal stand in the corner. “That guitar has definitely been wiped down. Its glossy finish would show every fingerprint and each speck of dust, but there are none.” She pointed to a ceramic cigarette lighter resting on the countertop that divided the kitchenette from the living room. “Same story with that lighter.”
“Lighter?” Beth turned toward the police officers. “Did she smoke?”
“No.” Kendra answered before they could reply. “I would have picked up the odor on her, but someone was in the habit of smoking an occasional cigar in here. And the glass tabletop and the back of the chairs do have fingerprints. No one was concerned about wiping those clean.”
Detective Starger spoke for the first time. “We lifted quite a few prints from the tabletop and elsewhere in here.”
“Good,” Kendra said. “I’d like to know what the story is with that guitar. Especially since she didn’t play it.”
“How do you know?” Griffin asked.
“Anyone who plays an acoustic guitar with any regularity develops calluses. I have them. It’s actually necessary to play well. Sheila Hunter’s fingertips were smooth, and her nails long and beautifully manicured.”
“Maybe a boyfriend?” Beth suggested.
“Maybe.” Kendra turned toward Stokes. “Was she in a relationship?”
“Not as far as we’ve been able to determine. We’re still exploring that possibility.”
Kendra scanned the kitchen. “Everything seems to be in place in here.”
“There were two glasses in the sink,” Stokes said. “Both had Sheila Hunter’s prints and her prints alone.”
Kendra nodded and turned back toward the living room. “Any sign of the area rug?”
“Area rug?”
“About six by eight feet, red and cream with gold medallions. It was in the middle of the living room, under the couch and coffee table.”
Detectives Starger and Ketchum exchanged a look before turning back to face her. “There was no rug here,” Ketchum said.
“Actually, there was. The only question is whether it was removed before or after Sheila Hunter’s murder.”
Stokes crossed his arms across his chest. “And how would you know that?”
“I saw it.”
“You’ve been in here before?”
Oh, Lord, now they were suspicious of her again. “No, never.”
“Then how—”
“You saw it, too,” she said impatiently. “All of you did. You just weren’t paying attention.” Kendra walked back toward the entrance, where the wall was covered by a collage of framed photographs. She pointed to a group shot of Sheila and her friends in the living room wearing oversized football jerseys. Some were sitting cross-legged on the rug, others were standing around it. “Right here.”
The detectives, Griffin, and Beth followed her to the wall to gaze at the photos. “I’ll be damned,” Stokes said. “But there’s no telling how long ago that rug—”
“Sixty days, give or take,” Kendra broke in. “That’s the most recent Super Bowl on the TV behind them. I have no idea who won, but those were the teams, right?”
Stokes studied
the photograph again. “Uh, yeah.”
In the photograph’s glass reflection, Kendra caught Griffin smiling. He was clearly enjoying her display and the discomfort it was furnishing the detectives more than he did on his own investigations. That annoyed her, too. After that far-from-subtle holdup he’d maneuvered to get her permission to come here, she didn’t like that he was getting any amusement from the situation.
She turned a warm smile on Stokes. “Actually, it’s perfectly understandable that you’d not notice the photo. You’d be surprised what Special Agent Griffin’s team manages to miss, and they have all that expensive, technical equipment at their disposal. I’m sure you did a good job here, Detective.”
Stokes nodded. “Thanks.” He smiled. “It’s good to be appreciated. Anything else you need to see?”
“Yes.” She moved toward a rear doorway, passing Griffin, who was no longer smiling. “Bedroom?”
“Just a single bedroom and bath.”
The group followed Kendra back to the bedroom, which, like the rest of the houseboat, was tastefully decorated. A queen-size bed headed one wall, and a closet and cherrywood chest of drawers anchored the left side. A small desk was pushed into the corner, where a laptop, printer/scanner combo, and a bulletin board formed Sheila’s home office. Kendra motioned for Beth to capture the photo of the bulletin board contents with her iPad.
Beth crouched beside the desk and panned over the board. “Looks like she was working on a few different stories.”
Kendra nodded. “It’s likely she did a lot of work in her office downtown.”
“We’ve been to her cubicle and spoken to her colleagues,” Starger said. “Including some who witnessed your blowup in the plaza. It was quite the scene.”
“Then I suppose you’ve read her story about me.”
“We have. You’re saying it’s inaccurate?”
“No. My problem was that she lied and possibly used illegal means in order to get me to participate in a slam piece against myself.”
“Yeah, the captain told us he’d received some kind of hard evidence that had happened.”
Lynch. He’d told her that he’d find a way to do it, but she hadn’t thought he’d had time yet.
Griffin shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the first time that a journalist gained the cooperation of a source under false pretenses.”
The Naked Eye Page 11
