Honor

by Janet Dailey

  “Let’s hope so,” the old man said.

  “Now you be careful, dear,” the woman said to Kenzie. “You wouldn’t want to slip. Not with the river so high and wild.”

  They went on. Helping each other over rough spots.

  How it ought to be. She looked sideways and down, not seeing Linc. Where was he?

  Wild as it was, the park always had visitors, and they were generally quite friendly. Some were from out of state or even other countries. But a large number of them were from right around here in Virginia and Maryland.

  She went on a little farther, going the opposite direction from the old couple, keeping her hands on the rock as she moved along the increasingly narrow trail.

  Someone spoke to her. Kenzie didn’t look around. She couldn’t.

  “You’re very near the edge.” A man’s voice. Not young, not old.

  She gritted her teeth. “I’m being careful.”

  “That’s good. The water is dangerous.”

  There were a lot of well-meaning people in the world, she thought. “Yes, I know.”

  The pleasant voice paused. Maybe because she was acting like someone who didn’t want to listen.

  “River and rock.” He sounded like he was hypnotized. “Do you know what happens underneath a waterfall?”

  Kenzie kept moving. She didn’t answer.

  “If you get swept over, the water rolls and rolls—and traps you. Forever. They call it a drowning machine.”

  She turned to stare at him.

  There wasn’t much to see, except that he was solidly built. He wore a fleece parka with a collar that was part of the hood, zipped all the way up.

  Not because it was cold. Because he wanted to conceal most of his face. He wore sunglasses, which he lifted to the top of his head.

  Those eyes. She had seen them before. Twice.

  It was him.

  Kenzie pushed herself off the rock and ran down the path, little rocks skittering. She was losing her footing, her body tilting from side to side as she struggled for balance and ran on. She didn’t care if she twisted her ankle. She only wanted to get away. She didn’t look to see if he was behind her.

  CHAPTER 19

  Linc took the path along the river, looking for Kenzie. He’d sent the hikers on their way, map and all. Sometimes being nice didn’t seem worth it. Where was she?

  The turbulent river sent spray flying into the air as it rushed past him. A floating tree, muddy roots in the air, smashed against a rock and splintered into pieces which the water swept away.

  There was no sign of her.

  Uneasy, he went faster, edging through a part of the path that was so narrow he had to use his hands to move along. He looked ahead and then down, seeing no one but an elderly couple, binoculars raised. The last thing he wanted to do was startle a couple of birdwatchers. But they might have seen her.

  He made his way down to them.

  “Hey there,” he said. “Sorry to interrupt, but—”

  They both lowered their binoculars and turned to look at him.

  “Not a problem,” the man said. “There’s nothing to see out there. The birds all flew away home. I’m thinking me and Agnes should do the same.”

  “Speak for yourself, Earl. I haven’t given up,” she said.

  Oh boy. Linc didn’t want to get stuck in another conversation. He got right to the point.

  “Did you happen to see someone go this way? A woman, not very tall, with dark hair?” He described what Kenzie was wearing.

  “Oh yes. We certainly did. She seemed like a very nice young lady,” the woman answered. “She didn’t come down here, though. She went a different way. I think she wanted a clearer view of the river.”

  Linc felt his pulse jump. Kenzie knew better than to get too close to the banks—what was left of them—when the river was like this.

  He took a deep breath. These folks didn’t seem at all alarmed, so that was something. At their age, they had to be careful of every step.

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Oh, I dunno,” said the old man. “Probably about ten minutes. Is that right, Agnes?”

  “I think so,” she chirped. “Do you want us to tell her that you’re looking for her? What’s your name?”

  “Linc. And her name is Kenzie.”

  “Okay. If she comes back this way, we’ll stop her. I hope you two don’t end up going in circles.”

  “Me too. Thanks.” He started off with renewed energy.

  Then the old man spoke again. “I almost forgot. I looked behind me to adjust the focus on these things”—he patted the binoculars—“and I saw another person going the same way as her. A feller in a parka. I didn’t get a good look at his face.”

  “He was walking with his head down,” his wife added.

  “And no wonder,” Earl chuckled, “considering how dang slippery the path is. But he was moving kinda fast. Does that help?”

  Linc didn’t stick around to answer the question.

  He was out of breath and crazy with worry when he finally spotted her a half mile down the path, where it took an abrupt turn inland. Kenzie was under the massive trunk of a tree that the storm had blown down, crouching with one hand clutching a broken branch.

  “Kenzie!” The wind swallowed his voice. She didn’t even look his way. He came closer, slipping in the soft, damp earth. He reached for her, getting a grip on her arm. “What the hell happened?”

  She twisted free without answering and came out from under.

  “Why did you go so far ahead of me?”

  “I was hiding,” she gasped.

  She turned her face to meet his gaze. Linc saw the streaks of dirt under the tumbled hair.

  “He just doubled back and went by. He didn’t see me.”

  Linc knew who she meant.

  “Tell me exactly what happened. What he said.”

  In a halting voice, she did.

  “But he never touched you?”

  “No.” She shivered. “It almost didn’t matter. The way he looked at me—I felt like I couldn’t move. Then he blinked and I ran.”

  Linc gently drew her close. He rubbed her arms, trying to warm her up. It didn’t work. She wasn’t shivering because the air was cold.

  “You did the right thing.”

  Kenzie nestled against him and he wrapped her in the circle of his arms. He lifted his head, still keeping watch. The trees moved in the wind that whistled through them. The sharp crack of a falling branch made her flinch.

  “Linc ... how does he keep finding me?”

  “I don’t know.” He stroked her tangled hair and held her closer. “But we have to work harder on finding him.”

  Harry Cowles let Kenzie go ahead of him into his office. It was small, with no windows and muted lighting. A large monitor dominated the desk, as before. There was a chair that she knew was his, and others along the wall, in different positions from what she remembered.

  Kenzie reminded herself that she wasn’t the only one who came here. Cowles spent hours each day with victims of much worse crimes than stalking.

  She’d gotten off lightly. So far.

  “Good to see you, Kenzie. Thanks for coming back.”

  “I wanted to try again. We didn’t get too far the first time.”

  “You did fine. Don’t underestimate yourself. We ended up with a good preliminary sketch.”

  Cowles was half shrink and half artist. “Can I see it again?”

  He leaned over the desk and touched a key. “I left it pulled up—there you go.”

  She didn’t want to see the man again, didn’t believe she’d gotten anything right. Though she didn’t want to admit to it, her fear distorted her memory of him.

  “Would you like some coffee before we get started again? There’s a brewing machine down the hall that uses those little cups. You can pick your flavor.”

  Caffeine was something she definitely didn’t need. Her nerves were stretched to the breaking point.

&
nbsp; “No thanks,” she replied. “But water would be good. Is there a vending machine in the hall?”

  “No.”

  He moved to a small refrigerator that she hadn’t noticed her first time here and opened the door. The sudden bright light from its interior startled her for a moment. The glass shelves held bottles of water and cans of soda.

  “That’s convenient.”

  “Okayed by the chief. I keep it filled. People who come in here are stressed as it is. As you’re finding out, getting an accurate drawing can be a time-consuming process.”

  “It shouldn’t take two visits. I’m sorry.”

  He smiled. “Don’t be. And please sit down.” He handed her a bottle of water. “Which chair would you like?”

  “That one.” She pointed and he moved it closer to the monitor.

  “I understand you saw him again. Up close.”

  She nodded. The memory made her gut tighten. “He had on a hooded parka with a high collar. It was zipped up over his mouth. But I did see his eyes. Very clearly.”

  Harry Cowles nodded. “You gave me a good general idea of what you saw through the window.” He sat down in front of the monitor.

  She forced herself to look at the drawing on the screen. It seemed flat and lifeless. The man could be anybody.

  Harry used a trackpad and a thing like a pen to highlight the contours of the face in the half-completed drawing from the first session.

  “Does that still look right to you?”

  “I—I can’t be sure. I only saw him for a few seconds that time.”

  “Let’s go with it for now. We can always make changes.”

  She knew that. And she trusted Harry to do his best. It wasn’t his fault that the image of the man was so hard to pin down.

  The coordinates linked to an address. She was at the police station. Not for the first time, either. It didn’t matter. He had covered his tracks and his face. He was fairly sure they wouldn’t figure out who he was until he’d left the country.

  There was nothing they could charge him with. Connecting him to the accident was next to impossible. And, tempting as Kenzie was, he hadn’t done anything to her.

  Yet.

  It wasn’t as if she had full-time police protection. And her boyfriend wasn’t always with her.

  He assumed that Linc Bannon had found the first bug under her car and removed it. The others were still there.

  He’d had to remote-activate the second bug sooner than he’d expected. There were several others left. Someone would have to crawl under the car to find them one by one.

  That didn’t matter either. He’d found the right place for the prototype device a business associate had given him. Microchips got smaller every year. The circuitry in the device was impossibly small, but it worked. It excited him to know exactly where she was twenty-four hours a day, in or out of a car.

  Kenzie was not always careful. She’d handed him his chance the same day he’d sent the roses, from Kenzie to Chrissie.

  He had still been physically following her at that point, had parked near her at a convenience store by the hospital. The tears she’d cried privately in the car left gleaming traces on her cheeks that he found very satisfying.

  Too upset to remember to push the button that rolled up the window, she’d even left her purse on the front seat of her rental car, grabbing only her wallet.

  He hadn’t waited. No one noticed him. The other drivers in the lot were screaming at kids to shut up or digging for change in the cup holder.

  Her purse held a jumble of necessary things and odd items. No cosmetics case. She didn’t wear much makeup.

  But he’d found something—a small compact with a magnifying mirror and a regular one. He’d popped out both and added a few improvements underneath, then put the compact right back into the purse.

  He’d watched her come out of the convenience store and drive away, giving him a chance to test the mike.

  The sad song on the radio came through fine. She didn’t talk to herself as she drove. After that, he picked up Linc Bannon’s voice and her replies now and then.

  Funny that he’d never seen the guy. He sounded young—younger than he was, anyway. Army but not old school army. Some kind of hotshot in CyberCommand.

  Lucky that Linc hadn’t found the beacon, which was a cut above the bugs. Precise coordinates in real time, jiggleproof.

  The camera came on when she opened the compact. Kenzie used it only to put on lip gloss, never a full face. He loved the way she looked with her lips parted. Smacking them to spread the gloss. Trying out a pout. Running her tongue over them for extra shine.

  She didn’t use it often. Which meant that every time she did—and snapped the compact shut—the desire to hurt her was unbearably strong.

  Linc headed for the Ridgewood police station. The front desk cop buzzed Mike Warren’s office and waited for an affirmative reply, then waved him in.

  “You said you would call me back and you didn’t. She hasn’t checked in.” Linc pushed open the unlocked door. “Last I heard she was coming here.”

  “Settle down. She’s still here. With Harry Cowles.” Mike Warren looked tired.

  “Why? It’s past seven.”

  “Harry’s the kind of cop who stays late when he thinks it’s necessary. And you don’t get to interrupt her.” Mike pointed to a chair. “Sit. And shut up. You already explained what happened, and I took notes. My turn to talk.”

  The lieutenant gave him a friendly smile and folded his hands on top of the paperwork on his desk. Linc glanced and took in the words Double Homicide. Mike had mentioned that. He swallowed what he was going to say.

  The lieutenant didn’t seem to notice that. “Unfortunately, we still don’t know who the stalker is. Even if we ID him, we can’t charge him with anything—”

  “Not even breaking and entering?”

  “No,” Mike said. “Can you prove the man she saw made the impression on the bed? We took lots of pictures, for what they’re worth. Someone lay down on a fuzzy blankie. That’s all we know about that.”

  “How about forcing Christine off the road? Any progress there?”

  “The tire treads we found in the mud north of the scene and the tire treads on the car in the accident footage do match. Which proves ... not a lot, without the car. And let’s hope those tires are still on the car when we find it. If we find it.”

  Linc knew the lieutenant was doing what he could with scant evidence and no manpower. That didn’t keep him from seething inwardly.

  “By the way,” Mike continued, “both you and Kenzie should stop in at the night clerk’s and get inked, so we can sort out the prints we picked up inside the apartment. The roof, nothing. The scaffolding, forget it. Painters were swarming up it by the time we were finished with the roof.”

  “I forgot to tell them to take the day off.”

  “Don’t be a smart-ass.”

  “Sorry.”

  “This is a priority.” Mike picked up the homicide paperwork on his desk and waved it at Linc.

  “I understand that.”

  “Look, I want to protect Kenzie and Christine just as much as you do. But there are limits.”

  “What are you saying? That he has to hurt her first?”

  “As far as Kenzie is concerned, he has to take it up a notch. Staring in the window is a peeping-tom offense. A wrist slap from the judge, one night in jail for a naughty boy.”

  “If I catch him, I’ll—”

  “I can imagine. Maybe you should line up a good lawyer in advance.”

  Linc leaned forward. “What’s the plan?”

  “Besides you and me winging it, there isn’t one. Kenzie doesn’t qualify for police protection.”

  “Mike, he’s out there. Getting closer. He may be focusing on Kenzie right now, but that could be a way to throw us off the track so he can get to Christine. Can’t we protect her?”

  “Maybe.” Mike looked thoughtful. “There are rookies the chief wants out of h
is hair. As in assigned to easy duty. One is the son of a state representative and the other is a reporter’s daughter.”

  “I’m not following you.”

  “Add two more patrolmen to babysit them, and we can station unmarked cars at the front and back entrance of the rehab center. No further incidents involving Christine since the roses, right?”

  Linc shook his head. “Nothing. Kenzie would have told me. She goes to see Christine a lot.”

  Mike raised an eyebrow. “You should go with her.”

  “I will. She’s going to get sick of looking at me. Get back to the unmarkeds.”

  “Hypothetically speaking, the officers would be there at night, not during the day.”

  “Okay. Do what you can.”

  “Everyone will be briefed on the stalker.” He paused to think. “Too bad Harry hasn’t finished the drawing yet. But we know he’s white, we have a build and a height for him, and a few other visual facts. Wears black clothes and a mask when he goes window-shopping for victims, has been spotted in a parka zipped up over most of his face. Not much to go on, but it’s something.”

  “My guess would be that he’s ordinary otherwise.”

  Mike nodded. “You’re probably right. Which is not a crime. Keep in mind that we can’t stop everyone.”

  Linc would take what he could get. “Just get your officers there. It’s not like there’s a lot of people hanging around a neuro rehab center at night. Anyone walking by is going to stand out.”

  “I promise you they’ll do their best.”

  “Too bad you can’t send big guys with guns.”

  “The rookies have guns. And the ponytail is actually a crack shot.”

  Ponytail. Linc sighed inwardly. Slang for a female cop, back in the day. Mike Warren’s day, not his.

  A knock on the open door got their attention. It was Kenzie. She had a file folder in her hand. “Hi, guys. We’re done. Harry printed some out for me.”

  “I’d like a copy,” Mike said.

  She extracted one and handed it to him.

  The lieutenant glanced at it and then laid it flat on his desk.

  “Look familiar, Linc?”