The Naked Eye

by Iris Johansen

  “Perish the thought. I’m always new and fresh. Turn on your computer.”

  “It’s on.”

  “Then sit back and enjoy the show. Or not really a show yet. More a cozy get-together.”

  “I don’t see anything. What are you—” Then the picture zoomed onto her monitor. Beth lying tied to the embalming table. Memories of Stokes immediately flew back to Kendra. She inhaled sharply and couldn’t speak for an instant.

  “I thought that might take your breath away,” Colby said as he came on camera. “I did quite a good job of making Stokes’s death memorable. I’ll try to do the same with your friend Beth. But it might be difficult for you to appreciate since you could be dead by the time that she’s no longer with us.” He smiled down at Beth. “She wants you to talk to her. I know you’ll oblige.”

  “Sure.” Beth looked into the camera. “He’s a little over-the-top, isn’t he, Kendra? This whole scenario is like an old silent movie with little Beth tied on the railroad tracks.”

  “He hasn’t hurt you?” Kendra asked shakily.

  “Not yet. But we both know that might come.” She swallowed. “Don’t let him play you. Don’t look. Don’t let him use me to hurt you, okay?”

  “I think that’s enough,” Colby said as he stepped in front of Beth. “I would have stopped her sooner, but she’s very eloquent, and that probably served me better.”

  “What do you want? Is there any way that I can stop you from hurting her?”

  “You know what I want. As for that other question, I doubt it. But there may be a way if you’re even more clever than I think you are.” He smiled. “You’re hurting. I can hear it in your voice. That’s part of what I want. But the agony has to be excruciating. And pain is always heightened by the anticipation of more pain to come. That’s why I allowed you to go so long without showing you your friend.”

  “I thought you and your computer stooge were just arguing about what to do with her.”

  “Oh, no, it was all about anticipation. I do admit there was a bone of contention, but I took care of it.” He mournfully shook his head. “Unfortunately, Northrup is no longer with us. But he was able to finish up the last of my requests before he departed this plane.” He smiled. “But back to anticipation. Even when I was disposing of Stokes, I was thinking that it was too short. That no one had the full experience of my kill. I decided to correct that error with our beautiful Beth. I know if you enjoyed the last twelve hours that you’ll be eager to know that I’m going to give you another twenty-four.”

  “Why?” She stiffened. “What are you going to do to her?”

  “How suspicious you are. I’m merely giving you the time you need to be in the frantic state that will make your death totally satisfying to me. I may play with our Beth a bit, but I won’t start the final phase of her death until you’ve gone through sufficient agony. I can see you running around, trying to find her, trying to find me. But, of course, that’s not going to happen. I’ve made sure that I’m very safe. You couldn’t find me when Stokes was being butchered, could you? No, you’ll try and try, and in the end, when we come together, you’ll be broken.”

  “What do you mean ‘play’ with her?”

  “You’ll have to wonder about that, won’t you? But it won’t be anything compared to the grand finale I’m planning for her and … you. Twenty-four hours, Kendra.”

  The monitor screen went blank.

  She stared unseeingly at the screen. Twenty-four hours. Grand Finale.

  “Well, that answers the question.” Lynch was back in the room. “Colby has her, and Northrup is no longer a player.”

  “You saw it in the office?”

  He nodded. “With Eve and Sam.”

  “Twenty-four hours. She only has twenty-four hours…”

  “You’re looking at the glass half-empty. We have twenty-four hours.” His eyes were glittering with fierce vitality. “You’ve always said Colby was an egomaniac. He doesn’t believe that we can upset his foul little applecart. He thinks he’s safe.” His hands fell on her shoulders, and he gave her a slight shake. “But we already have a head start. Hell, twenty-four hours can be a lifetime.”

  Beth’s lifetime.

  Kendra shook her head to clear it. She’d been caught up in Colby’s malice, Colby’s world. She felt a sudden surge of energy and hope as she was drawn back into the world she shared with Lynch.

  “You’re damn right,” she said brusquely. “Twenty-four hours will be enough. We’ll make it enough.” She headed for the door. “Let’s start doing it.”

  CHAPTER 16

  “HOW IS IT GOING?” KENDRA asked, as Eve came into the kitchen where she was working. “I haven’t seen anything of you or Sam in hours.”

  “Busy.” Eve reached into the refrigerator and got out a bottle of Red Bull. “I don’t how Sam manages to keep going. I guess it’s this stuff he keeps drinking. It must be pretty powerful. He gave up coffee last night and has been guzzling this.” She got a cup of coffee for herself. “As far as how it’s going, I don’t have any idea. Sam keeps having breakthroughs but not enough, never enough.” She rubbed her temple. “Colby’s been bouncing his calls and video streams off a lot of different network systems around the world, which makes him difficult to track. Sam thought the last call might have been more direct, so he’s been trying to work on that one.” She leaned back against the counter and glanced at Kendra’s computer and her scratch pad, scrawled with notes. “What about you?”

  “Plodding. I’ve just discovered two more Wingate shipping companies in Los Angeles County and a Wingate funeral home in La Jolla. The funeral home sounds like Colby’s style. I’ll call Griffin and ask him to send a couple agents to check them out.” She grimaced. “Though his men are stretched to the max right now. Do you know how many Wingates are residents of the cities in Southern California? The agents can’t even phone them in case they trigger an action on Colby’s part. We don’t know if it’s a name, a company, a ship or—”

  “A funeral home,” Eve supplied. “I get the picture. Very discouraging.”

  Kendra shook her head. “I can’t be discouraged. I won’t let that happen.”

  Eve nodded. “I feel the same way. We don’t have that right.” She took her coffee and the bottle of Red Bull and put them on a tray. “Where’s Lynch?”

  “He set up shop in the living room. He didn’t want to disturb me. He’s been on the phone for hours. He’s been calling every contact he has around the world. He decided that the FBI wasn’t enough, so he’s pulling in favors from the Justice Department, CIA, Interpol … I’ve never even heard of many of those organizations he works for.”

  “Bless him,” Eve said quietly. “We need all the clout we can get.”

  “Yes, we do.” She smiled faintly. “Though I think he’d be a little surprised that you were raining blessings down on him.”

  “I’d nominate him for sainthood if he came up with a strong lead.” She picked up the tray. “And if it brought us to that crazy bastard, I’d call the Pope and lobby.”

  “Is there something a little sacrilegious about that thought?”

  “It’s sacrilegious to think of Colby even near Beth,” Eve said. Her hands on the tray were shaking the tiniest bit as she passed Kendra on the way to the door. “I’m trying not to think of it. But I can’t keep my eyes off the clock. It’s been over twelve hours.”

  “I know. We still have time, Eve.”

  She looked over her shoulder. “Yes. But I’d feel better if one of Sam’s breakthroughs showed signs of breaking this blasted deadlock.” She drew a deep breath. “It will happen. We have to have faith.”

  Kendra nodded. “And lots of caffeine. I may make another pot of coffee myself.”

  “Just stay away from the Red Bull.” Eve smiled and left the kitchen.

  Kendra gazed after her for a moment. In this time of frustration and panic, it was good having Eve here working with her toward a common goal.

  But the key word wa
s work. Neither of them had time to devote to anything but finding Beth. She glanced down at her notes and circled the funeral-home reference. It would be—

  “Wingate!” Lynch strode into the kitchen. “I just got off the phone. We’ve got a hit.”

  She sat up straight. “Finally. Were you talking to Griffin?”

  “No, my Justice Department source.” Lynch walked across the office and picked up his tablet computer. “Wingate is definitely a name, not a place. Colby has been using that name since he resurfaced.” His fingers were racing over the keys. “A James Wingate crossed in from the Mexican border at San Ysidro last week.”

  It was too good to be true. A name and a connection to Colby. “But how do we know that it’s—”

  Lynch thrust his tablet computer in front of Kendra’s face.

  Colby.

  At a border pedestrian-inspection station with a beard and longish hair, but definitely Colby. There was no mistaking those piercing eyes and tiny teeth.

  “There’s surveillance video and about a dozen more photos of him at the border crossing. It’s all being sent to Griffin as we speak. Griffin will jump on it with the speed of light.”

  A lead, a break at last. Excitement was exploding within her. “I think you may just be on your way to sainthood,” she murmured.

  “What?” he said impatiently.

  “Never mind.” She couldn’t take her eyes from the photos. “Mexico … That’s where he’s been all these months?”

  “Possibly. It would make sense. Under the radar as far as U.S. law enforcement was concerned. Close enough to keep his sights on you until he was ready to strike. The night before Colby crossed over, a fairly well-known identity broker was murdered in Todos Santos. It’s a coastal city about thirty miles south of the border. The man was stabbed. Gutted. It could be that Colby bought a new identity from this man, then killed him to wipe out his trail.”

  “Wingate,” Kendra said. She finally made herself look away from Lynch’s tablet. “Detective Stokes must have somehow found out that was the name he was using. After he’d been taken, maybe he spotted some paperwork in the van or heard Colby talking to someone.”

  Lynch nodded. “However he found out, it’s impressive that Stokes was able to get it across to us. He was one good cop.”

  “Yes, he was.” Kendra tried to shake the image of Stokes bleeding on that table. She turned back to Lynch. “So what now?”

  “Let’s get back to the FBI office. With a definite full name to search, this opens up a lot of new investigative possibilities for them. It’s logical that one break might lead to another.” He said quietly, “And we have you and Stokes to thank for it.”

  “Excuse me if I’m not ready to start patting myself on the back yet.” Kendra checked her watch. Thirteen hours thirty minutes since Colby had set his deadline. What had he been doing to Beth during those hours? She had been trying not to dwell on that while she had been working desperately to find a way to rescue Beth. Colby had said he wanted to break Kendra, and she couldn’t let him do it. It would be a defeat for Kendra, and it might be death for Beth. She grabbed her computer and handbag and got to her feet. “Let’s go. I have to stop by the office and tell Eve and Sam about this, but we have to hurry. We’re running out of time.”

  Hold on, Beth.

  God, I’m praying he’s not hurting you.

  We’re trying so hard.

  We’ll get to you. I promise.

  * * *

  HE WAS COMING TOWARD HER AGAIN.

  Beth couldn’t see Colby in the darkness, but she could hear him, smell him.

  It was the third time tonight, and she knew what was going to follow.

  Tonight. Was it night? She couldn’t tell, it was all darkness and the smell of tar.

  Her heart was starting to beat hard as helpless panic overwhelmed her.

  He had stopped before the end before, but would he do it this time?

  “Are you ready, Beth?” Colby asked. “I can practically hear your heartbeat from here. You try so hard to be brave. But it’s difficult not knowing, isn’t it?

  She didn’t answer. Her voice might shake, and she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

  “It’s such a struggle. You’re being deprived of the one thing that is natural to all of us. You can’t help but be frightened.” He was standing next to her, and she could see his face above her. “But consider it as training. I want you to know what to expect. I’m giving Kendra a taste of anticipation, it’s not right that I should deprive you.” He lifted his hands and she saw the blur of the white pillow he was holding. “Breathe deep, Beth…”

  The pillow came down over her face!

  She was pinned, unable to shift on the table. She tried desperately to move her head to get away from that smothering hold. It was pure instinct. She knew it was hopeless. Colby was too strong, and he knew just how to use that pillow.

  No breath.

  No breath.

  Her lungs were struggling.

  Her heart was pounding, trying to leap from her breast.

  Her eyes were bulging.

  No breath.

  No breath.

  No breath.

  Dizzy.

  Darkness.

  This time he was going to do it. This time he wouldn’t—

  The pillow lifted, and he smiled down at her as she struggled frantically to breathe, to force air into her tortured lungs.

  “You’re getting weaker. Or were you just more frightened?”

  Maybe a little of both, but she wouldn’t admit it to him. “Did … you enjoy … your game?” It didn’t matter now that her voice was hoarse and shaking. He would expect it. “I’m not weaker. Cut me loose, and you’ll see.”

  “Why should I do that? Your helplessness is exquisite. It makes the suffering all the more satisfying. You’re never certain if I’ll let you come back, are you?”

  “Aren’t you afraid … repetition … will take that … uncertainty … away?”

  “Oh, no. It will just reinforce it.”

  “Is that how … you’re going to kill … me? Are you … going to smother me?”

  “Perhaps. I wouldn’t put you through this entertaining training if your death wasn’t to have certain similar elements.” He stroked the pillow. “I’ll leave you now. Try to sleep. It will be interesting waking you…”

  He was going away.

  For a little while, or an hour, or several hours.

  Beth drew a deep breath. She would try to sleep because she knew he didn’t want her to do it. He wanted her to go through his damn anticipation and dread. Suffer mentally as well as physically.

  Sleep.

  Rest.

  Gather her strength.

  For the next time.

  * * *

  KENDRA AND LYNCH WERE FIVE minutes away from the FBI office when Lynch’s text chime sounded from his car stereo system. He pressed a button on his dashboard’s touch screen to read the text that had just come in on his phone. “We’re taking a detour,” he said.

  Kendra looked at the text. It read. MEET SPECIAL AGENT METCALF AT BONITA TRUCK RENTALS 1525 12TH STREET. Her gaze flew to Lynch. “Colby’s white van?”

  “That would be my guess. I told you having a confirmed name could really kick-start things. They’ve only had twenty-four hours, and they’ve already identified every place in the city that had rented a Ford Transit cargo van in the last week. But they haven’t had time to check names. If this name is attached to the rental, it could score big-time.”

  Lynch exited and got back on the I-8 heading east toward downtown. Within fifteen minutes, they were standing in the lobby of Bonita Truck Rentals and Storage on 12th Street. Special Agent Roland Metcalf was already there.

  Kendra moved quickly toward him. “What’s the story, Metcalf?”

  “Colby was here. He rented the van six days ago under the name of James Wingate.”

  “Address?” Lynch asked.

  “The manager’s getting
it for me now, along with the credit-card info he left. Although I don’t know where he got a credit card.”

  “Probably part of the identity packet he bought in Mexico,” Lynch said.

  The manager, a bald man with a bushy moustache, emerged from the back room with a canary-yellow copy of the invoice. He nodded his greeting at Kendra and Lynch as he laid the paper on the counter for them to see. “It was a one-way cross-country rental. The van’s due at Star Truck and Van Rentals in Norfolk, Virginia, this weekend.”

  “Norfolk,” Kendra repeated.

  Lynch nodded. “They shouldn’t count on seeing it there.”

  “He knew what he was doing as usual,” Kendra said, looking at the invoice. “He also has a Norfolk address listed here.”

  “Bogus, I’m sure,” Lynch said. “But you want to have it checked out, Metcalf.”

  “We’re already on it,” Metcalf said. He turned toward the manager. “How many copies were there in this invoice?”

  “Four. The customer gets the pink copy, we get the other three.”

  Metcalf nodded down toward the invoice. “I want to take this with me. Will you please round up the other two copies and let me have those, too?”

  The manager looked doubtfully at him. “Can’t I just make copies for you?”

  “No, but feel free to make copies for yourself.”

  “Uh, don’t you need a warrant or something?”

  “No time for that,” Metcalf snapped. “Your customer is a serial killer, and I know you won’t want to be responsible for any other crimes. I need the three originals because his fingerprints may be on one of them. Got it?” Metcalf produced a clear document bag. “And I’d appreciate you handling them very carefully, okay?”

  Obviously rattled, the manager nodded and hurried to the back room.”

  “Nicely done,” Kendra murmured.

  Lynch pulled out his phone and snapped a photo of the invoice. “Colby’s info may be bogus, but there’s something here that might help us.” He glanced up at Kendra. “We now have his van’s license-plate number.”

  “Bingo. Success.”

  He thought for a moment. “Yeah, it very well might.” He quickly motioned for her to follow him. “Let’s go back to the house. I need to talk to Sam.”