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  Kendra nodded. “Colby and his partner were too smart to leave behind any evidence. The doctor administered a drug to slow Colby’s heart and pronounced him dead in front of a roomful of witnesses, and a rented hearse drove him right out of the main gates of San Quentin State Prison.”

  “If you could offer any proof of this, I guarantee you that a lot of people would listen.

  “I tried.” Her fists clenched in frustration. “No one cared.”

  “I cared, Kendra.”

  “To a point.”

  “You weren’t able to get anywhere with the cremation service?”

  “No. A body with the correct paperwork was delivered to them that night. The crematorium didn’t fingerprint the body or do anything to confirm the corpse’s identity. The system doesn’t account for the fact that there are monsters out there who can drive to skid row and easily come out with a dead body no one will miss.”

  “Again, still no proof.”

  “Even you have to admit that there was enough to follow up on. Colby’s partner, Myatt, had that medication they called the zombie drug in his possession, and he had the prison physician’s name in his notebook. Before he died, he as much as told me Colby was still alive.”

  “He could have been taunting you. He had a history of that.”

  “That’s what the FBI thinks.” She shook her head wearily. “I thought you were on my side.”

  “I am. That’s why I’m out here at four in the morning.”

  “So the FBI sent you to tell me to stop making waves and lay off—”

  “No. For God’s sake, I’m not the FBI’s errand boy.”

  “Funny you should say that, when you’re the go-to errand boy for any government agency that decides to pay your fee. Who is it this week? FBI, CIA, NSA?”

  “None. This is all about you, Kendra.”

  “Is it?” She stared at him for a long moment. She’d gotten to know Lynch well during the course of their two previous cases together. So well that she’d found herself confused about how much was sexual attraction and how much was the stimulation of working with a tough, intelligent partner who managed to strike a rare note in her mind and soul. In this moment, she was feeling a little of both but principally she was aware of a new vibe from him. He was … truly concerned. Concerned about her. The surge of warmth she felt at the realization made her smile. “You didn’t look this worried even when you thought a killer was stalking me.”

  “This may be worse. Colby has gotten under your skin. In your head. Are you still having the dreams?”

  She looked away and didn’t answer. He was the only one she’d told about her nightmares. He’d been there for her in those moments of weakness following Colby’s supposed execution, when the nightmares had started.

  “You’ve been having that dream for months … He pulls you back to that gully night after night. But it shouldn’t be a nightmare. That’s the night you caught the bastard. That’s where you beat him, Kendra. Literally, I wish you’d killed him with that rock instead of fracturing his skull.”

  “I thought prison was the best place for him. I was wrong.”

  “Come back to my house. You’ll feel safe there.”

  “I can’t hide out in your suburban fortress for the rest of my life, Lynch. And if you remember, that’s where those awful dreams began.”

  “Maybe that’s where they can end.”

  “Besides, your Asian, bikini-model girlfriend might not like me hanging around.”

  “Ashley is almost never in town these days. Her career has taken off. She actually wants to meet you.”

  “I might say that she just wants to size up the competition, but women that beautiful don’t really have competition.”

  Lynch stepped closer to her. “You’re every bit as beautiful as she is, Kendra.”

  She looked up at him. His sudden closeness was disturbingly intimate.

  Too disturbing, she admitted to herself. Damn him.

  She made herself look away. “Now I know you’re patronizing me. I don’t have all that many fashion designers jetting me off to the French Riviera for photo shoots.” She smiled. “I’ve seen her picture in a few magazines lately. Ashley has branched out from swimsuits to cocktail dresses and athletic wear.”

  “Enough about her,” he said roughly. “You’re the one I’m worried about.”

  “Don’t be.”

  “Then stop this.”

  “Stop what?”

  He waved his arm toward the crime scene. “This. Dropping everything and running at the first sign of a bloody corpse. There was a time that the cops and the FBI had to beg you to come help them out on their cases. Now they can’t keep you away.”

  “I assure you that they make me feel very welcome,” she said wryly.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “You’re damn right, I do.” She stared him in the eye. “It’s because I know Colby will be back. He needs to kill. It’s part of who he is. He can hide for only so long. When he resurfaces, I need to be there.”

  “And you will be. But for now, just let the cops and the FBI do their job. They’re good at it. They have labs, worldwide databases, and lots of manpower. Trust them.”

  “How can I? When they don’t even believe he’s alive? They’re not even looking for him.”

  “He may not even be in the country. You can visit every crime scene in the state, but it won’t mean anything if he’s killing people in Budapest.”

  Kendra leaned wearily against her car. “I know. I’ve been spending a lot of time combing the Web for any sign of him.”

  Lynch shook his head. “You need to take a step back. Please. This isn’t good for you. God, you look tired.”

  “It’s almost 4 A.M. Of course I look tired. You’re the freak here for looking so damned chipper.”

  He slipped his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “Let’s go to breakfast. Ever been to Brian’s 24?”

  She laughed. “I’m going to bed.”

  “That’s even better.” His smile was both intimate and mischievous. “Whatever you want, Kendra.”

  “By myself. In my own place.”

  “Okay, fine.” He nodded toward the detectives, who were putting the husband in the backseat of a squad car. “But the next time you feel compelled to barge in on someone else’s murder scene, give me a call.”

  “Why? So you can stop me?”

  “I know better than that. So I can go with you. Which is a hell of a lot better than trailing after you.” He turned and moved away. “Think about it. I always thought we made a pretty good team…”

  * * *

  THE SKY HAD BEGUN TO LIGHTEN BY the time Kendra made it back to her condo near the Gaslamp District. She was already wound up by the double punch of the crime scene and Lynch’s unexpected appearance, but the sunlight’s psychological effect would soon make it even more difficult for her to get any sleep. The first year she’d had her sight, she’d covered her bedroom windows with aluminum foil to keep the daylight from poking around her curtains and nudging her awake. She had moved beyond that, but once awake, it was still tough for her to go to sleep once it was light outside.

  Might be time to invest in blackout curtains, or at least a jumbo roll of aluminum foil.

  It would be more difficult to put Lynch out of her mind. How in the hell did he know she’d be there?

  Of course he knew. He was Adam Lynch, and he had connections everywhere.

  A light flashed on the phone in her living room, indicating a message had been received while she was gone. Between three thirty and four thirty in the morning. Probably someone from the crime scene she had just left. Or possibly her mother, who was presently at a conference in Amsterdam and frequently forgot to take into account the time difference.

  She picked up the phone and checked the caller ID: Olancha Police Department.

  Another murder scene? Olancha was over two hundred miles away; she hadn’t cast her net that wide. She tried to remember if she even kn
ew anyone on the force there.

  No, she was sure she didn’t.

  And if there was an active scene, they had to know there was no way she could get there quickly. So why call in the middle of the night?

  Kendra retrieved the voice mail, and there was only a brief message asking her to call Sergeant Hank Filardi at the Olancha PD at her earliest convenience.

  She stared at the cordless phone in her hand.

  No.

  Lynch was right. She needed to step back. Whatever it was, it could wait a few hours while she tried to salvage what was left of this night.

  She put down the phone.

  Todos Santos, Mexico

  VICTOR CHILDRESS

  He stared at the name on the ID card he had just purchased. Victor Childress. Not a name he would have chosen for himself, but it would do.

  He pocketed the passport and turned toward the pounding surf. He couldn’t see the waves crashing on the dark beach though he could hear them. He took a deep breath. It should have been refreshing, but it wasn’t. It was like inhaling salt and dirt.

  He couldn’t wait to leave this place.

  Less than an hour from San Diego, yet a world away. A shit hole, to be sure, but it suited his purposes. No one knew him here, and no one would even think of looking for him. And after all those years in that prison, he needed the time to recharge his batteries and make preparations for his return.

  It was time. Years of planning had finally led to this moment.

  At his feet, a chunky Mexican man struggled to catch his breath as he rolled in a puddle of his own blood. The man’s lungs had collapsed, and he would survive only another minute or so.

  He pocketed his knife and took another look at the forged California driver’s license, and then at the other items he’d been furnished. All the documents he’d ordered were superb. He slipped them into his pocket. The dying man had done magnificent work, but he couldn’t be allowed to live. Things had progressed too far to be derailed by an overtalkative tradesman.

  He stepped over the dying man and walked across the warm sand. The wind suddenly kicked up, as if heralding the start of his journey.

  He felt a surge of exhilaration. It was all coming together.

  The waiting was over.

  Eric Colby smiled. “This is it, Kendra,” he whispered. “Can you feel it? You will soon. This will be our masterpiece…”

  CHAPTER 2

  “DR. MICHAELS? KENDRA MICHAELS?”

  Still groggy, Kendra sat up in bed and adjusted the phone against her ear. Had she been more awake, she probably wouldn’t have picked up. She glanced at the clock. 7:25 A.M.

  “Depends on who’s asking?”

  “Sergeant Hank Filardi, Olancha Police Department.”

  It took her a moment to make the connection. “Olancha … Right. You left a message on my phone.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I apologize for the calls, but I was wondering if you could help me out with something.”

  “I see. A homicide case? Is there something about the killer’s M.O. that makes you think I would have special interest in—”

  “No,” he interrupted testily. “Dr. Michaels, we’re quite capable of handling our own homicide cases here. We don’t call on outsiders to—”

  “Then why did you just wake me up?”

  “I’m calling about a young woman named Beth Avery. Do you know her?”

  “Beth.” Kendra tensed. “Is she okay?”

  “Is she a relative of yours?”

  “Is she okay?” Kendra repeated harshly. “Answer me.”

  “She’s fine. Is she a relative?”

  “No.” Kendra threw off the covers and stood up. “She’s the sister of a friend. Eve Duncan. What’s this about, Sergeant?”

  “I wish to hell I knew.” His voice was surly. “I have a Beth Avery in my jail, and I don’t know what to do with her.”

  “What?”

  “She’s been in lockup since last night. She was arrested on assault and battery charges.”

  Kendra shook her head. This conversation was getting more surreal by the minute. “Repeat that … You think that she…”

  “There were witnesses. It happened outside a bar called Blitzed just down the street from here. She worked a guy over pretty good.”

  “A guy? There has to be some kind of mistake. Beth Avery isn’t much over middle height and she’s not that strong. Besides, she’s not a violent person.”

  “Tell that to the six-foot-two guy she put in the hospital.”

  “This is crazy.”

  “I agree. And what’s crazier is that she could have posted bail and been out before midnight, but she’s made no effort to do that or even make a phone call. She doesn’t appear to be an indigent, and she drives a nicer car than I could ever hope to own.”

  Because Beth was a multimillionaire, and that car was one of the few indulgences she’d allowed herself since she’d decided to stay here in California. What in hell have you gotten yourself into, Beth?

  “Look,” the sergeant continued gruffly. “I’m just trying to help her and get her out of our jail. She doesn’t belong here. We tested her for drugs, and she’s clean. Harley Gill, the guy she beat up, is a local and has a history of violence and misdemeanors. She seems like a nice woman, real friendly. I’d like to process her and send her on her way before he’s released from the hospital and this escalates into something out of control.”

  “I second the motion. How did you find me?”

  “I found your number in her phone under In Case of Emergency.”

  Kendra nodded. The last time she’d seen Beth, six months before, she’d grabbed the phone and typed in the number herself. They had spoken several times since then, and Beth always seemed happy and well.

  “Okay. Can I speak to her?”

  “She doesn’t seem interested in talking to anyone. She said that she didn’t want anyone to know she’s here. I think she’d refuse to speak to you. You say you’re friends with her sister?”

  “Eve Duncan, but she lives in Georgia. She probably couldn’t make it there before tonight.” She paused. “And Beth wouldn’t want Eve to know she’s in trouble. Eve really wanted Beth to stay with her and let her take care of her.”

  “Not a bad idea,” he said sourly. “Look, I don’t know how you want to handle this. I can help you process bail for her, but I’m not sure if that’s what she wants or will accept even if—”

  “I’ll come there,” Kendra said quickly, before even thinking it through. “I think I can be at your town a little after noon.”

  “Well, she could definitely use a friend even if she won’t admit it. She’s being held at the Inyo County Jail in Independence. You got a pen?”

  Kendra jotted down the address and prisoner number. “Thanks, Sergeant.” She hung up the phone.

  She shook her head in bewilderment.

  Beth Avery. In jail.

  It was all wrong.

  Beth had been illegally imprisoned for years by the corrupt director of a mental institution, and was only now beginning to taste the freedom that had been denied her for so long. Was it too much for her?

  Possibly. Kendra remembered her own chaotic few years after she had first gained her sight. What she always referred to as her “wild days.” A world of sights and colors had finally been revealed to her, along with more freedom and independence than she ever imagined possible. She’d worried her friends and family sick in her relentless pursuit of every variety of sensory stimulation she could soak in.

  A few nights in jail had also been part of her own package, Kendra remembered. As much as she said she didn’t regret anything in her wild days, she could have done without that particular experience. Or at least modified it a bit.

  She picked up her phone and glanced through the calendar app. It was supposed to be a research day, compiling data for a music-therapy study she and a colleague at Tulane University were conducting.

  It would have to wait.

 
; Beth Avery needed her.

  Inyo County Jail

  12:30 P.M.

  KENDRA SETTLED INTO THE tiny conference room, which usually hosted meetings between prisoners and their attorneys. The Inyo County Jail was located in the rural community of Independence, California, where miles of desert scrub brush collided improbably with a line of snowcapped mountains. She’d never had any reason to visit the place, and she doubted she ever would again.

  The door swung open, and Beth Avery stepped into the room. She looked different than the last time Kendra had seen her. She liked the change. Beth was thinner than Kendra remembered her and wearing calf-high boots, jeans, and a blue plaid flannel shirt. But it was her demeanor that had undergone a transformation. Her color was high, and her blue eyes sparkled with energy. Despite her present situation, she was walking with a confident stride, altogether different from the hesitant gait she’d had after her release from the mental institution. Her shoulder-length dark hair flowed behind her with a healthy luster that had a vibrance of its own.

  “Hi, Beth.”

  Beth froze in her tracks as she caught sight of Kendra. She shook her head emphatically. “No. Only in case of emergency…”

  “It seemed like it might head that way.” Kendra stood to give her a hug, but the guard gestured for her to back away.

  “Does Eve know?” Beth asked.

  “Not yet. I didn’t want to worry her until I found out what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

  “Then you’ll worry her.”

  “Probably.”

  “No, it’s not necessary.” She took a seat at the small table, and Kendra sat across from her. “I’m sorry they called you, Kendra. I really wish they hadn’t.”

  “Beth … Why in the hell are you here?”

  “I’m making a point.”

  “They’re about to process you. The woman up front says you’re about an hour away from getting a jumpsuit and joining the general jail population.”

  Beth smiled as she looked down at her clothes. “Maybe you should have waited. A bright orange jumpsuit would have been much more striking.”

  “I didn’t come here for a fashion show. I’m here to help you.”