Close Your Eyes Read online

  “I scared the hell out of myself.”

  Olivia shook her head. “But that’s not going to stop you, is it?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “Yes, you have. I can hear it in your voice. You’ve switched on the autopilot.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “It’s not fun when you’re the one being analyzed, is it? But I know that tone in your voice. Your mind is already working on it. We could sit here for half an hour talking about everything under the sun, and you would say all the right things. But I’d still know.”

  She sighed. “My damn voice. You’d think I’d learn.”

  “I always know when that mind of yours has kicked into high gear. I can hear the gears turning, girl.” She reached out and picked up her glass. “So I’m not wasting my time.” Then she put the glass down again with force. “The hell I’m not.” She leaned forward, found Kendra’s hand, and tightly clasped it. “You’re important to me. Probably the most important person in my life. I won’t lose you. Okay, do what you have to do. But don’t you dare come back like that again. Do you hear me?”

  “I could hardly help it.” She chuckled as she reached forward and gave Olivia a quick hug. “I guess that means I’ve made a decision. I just had to have you tell me what it was.”

  “Always willing to oblige. Now, since that’s settled, have another glass of wine and tell me about Jimmy’s ‘possible’ breakthrough. You know how I adore your success stories.”

  * * *

  AN HOUR LATER, KENDRA SAT in her condo and stared at the phone in her hands. Was she really going to do this?

  Who in the hell was she kidding?

  She dragged her finger down the touch screen until she saw the uninvited listing in her phone book: LYNCH, ADAM.

  Neat trick.

  She pressed it to dial the number.

  Lynch answered on the first ring. “I’m glad you called.”

  “I have a few questions for you.”

  “Anything.”

  “Do you have any suspects?”

  “None.”

  “Does this series of murders cross-reference with any others in the database?”

  “Not really.”

  “So Jeff was about as close to catching the killer as my mom’s pug is. Assuming that the killer was even remotely aware of Jeff ’s existence, why would he be considered a threat?”

  “You’re obviously going to ask me more than a ‘few’ questions. Suppose you meet me at his office tomorrow morning. The Bureau will bring you up to speed. You’ll be given full access to all of his materials relating to the case.”

  “You said they didn’t want me on the case.”

  “They just hadn’t thought of it. They have nothing but the utmost respect for you.”

  “Don’t lie to me.”

  “Okay, they think you’re kind of a smart-ass bitch.”

  “That’s more like it.”

  “But they’re willing to work with you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ll insist.”

  “And who are you to be telling the FBI what to do? Make no mistake, I like it. I’ve had my run-ins with the Bureau.”

  “I understand that’s an understatement.”

  “And I understand that you’ve had your run-ins with them, too.”

  A silence. “You’ve been asking questions.”

  “And getting answers.”

  “I expected that to happen, but I thought I’d have a little time to prepare the way. Did you find out anything that might turn you against me?”

  “Nothing that I can’t handle. But there’s something I’m not getting here. You’re no ordinary consultant, right?”

  He paused. “Can we talk about this later?”

  “No.”

  “I’ve done work for most of the federal law-enforcement agencies. In this case, I’m here at the behest of the Justice Department.”

  “Are you acting as some kind of profiler?”

  “No. When Jeff Stedler disappeared, it became more than just a serial killer case.”

  “Why you?”

  “Besides the fact that I used to be with the Bureau, I have a reputation for getting things done. It also didn’t hurt that I live in the area. I’m familiar with the way things work around here.”

  “And are you up to speed on the case?”

  “Totally. We can go over it tomorrow morning.”

  “I haven’t told you I’m on board yet.”

  “What more do you need?”

  “I want to see Jeff’s condo. I’m sure his FBI buddies have already made a sweep through there.”

  “They have. They came up empty.”

  “I’m sure they did. So when can I get in there?”

  “How about now? I can meet you there in ten minutes.”

  “You just happen to have his keys on you?”

  “No.”

  “Right. I guess we’re just going to break in?”

  Silence.

  “You can’t be serious,” she said. “You’re supposed to be law-abiding.”

  “I’ll see you there in ten minutes.”

  He cut the connection.

  * * *

  KENDRA STOOD OUTSIDE THE main entrance of Jeff’s six-story building, trying her damnedest not to feel nostalgic for the good times she’d had there.

  There had also been plenty of bad times, she reminded herself. Arguments, both subtle and broad pressures being brought to bear, the bitter realization that she had been used. Memories that couldn’t be erased no matter how much Jeff had wanted her to try.

  “Thanks for doing this.”

  She looked over her shoulder to see Adam Lynch walking up the sidewalk toward her.

  He smiled. “I wasn’t sure if I’d ever hear from you again.”

  “But then you’d have just kept nudging me to do what you want.” She stared him in the eye. “I’m not committing myself to anything more than a quick look around.”

  “Fair enough. From what I’ve seen, a quick look around from you is worth quite a bit.”

  “You weren’t serious about breaking into his place, were you?”

  “‘Breaking’ is such a harsh word. It conjures up images of splintered door frames and smashed locks.”

  “Ahh. You’re just going to gently coax our way inside?”

  “I’m sure Stedler’s FBI buddies wouldn’t mind arranging a visit for you, but I don’t want to wait that long. You would also have them breathing down your neck the entire time you were in there.”

  “I see. So instead, I’ll just have you breathing down my neck.”

  “You could do a lot worse for yourself.” He opened the building’s front door. “After you.”

  They took the elevator to the fourth floor and made their way down the carpeted hallway to unit 432. Except for the addition of tan wallpaper on the corridor walls, nothing had changed in the year and a half since she had last been there.

  Lynch gripped the doorknob and fumbled with it for a moment.

  She smiled. “Is that your definition of ‘coaxing’?”

  Another twist, and he pushed the door wide open. “Yes, as a matter of fact.”

  Only then did she see that he was holding a brushed-metal picklock device in his palm. “You’re fairly good with that thing.”

  He shrugged. “I’m glad you think so. Some women are more impressed with the sight of a man hurling himself at a locked door.”

  “That’s a little too caveman for me. And stupid. I don’t appreciate stupidity.”

  They stepped inside the condo, a comfortable two-bedroom unit with a large living-room area that joined an open kitchen.

  She scanned the room. “Cleaner and neater than it used to be.”

  “Maybe he has a girlfriend who keeps it clean. I used to date someone who was a neat freak, and my place never looked better than it did when she—”

  Kendra cut him off. “Possible. But it’s far more likely that he’s started em
ploying the cleaning service on the refrigerator magnet.” She tapped the magnet that was shaped like a vacuum cleaner. “Has anyone called them to see if he’s missed any of their scheduled visits?”

  Lynch smiled. “I’ll ask. Anything else different?”

  “Nothing but the television.” She gestured toward the large flat-panel screen and pair of dark glasses on the coffee table. “I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist it once the sports networks started broadcasting in 3-D.”

  Lynch glanced at the framed sports memorabilia on the wall. “Yeah, I didn’t know he was such a sports nut.”

  “Then you don’t know him well at all.”

  “Can’t say that I do. I only met him once. Anything else?”

  She walked around the living-room area and stopped in the vicinity of a dinette set consisting of a square table and four chairs. “Something happened here.”

  He tensed and took a step closer. “What, exactly?”

  “I don’t know. But the carpet over here has recently been replaced. Just in this area. The rest is six or seven years old, but this has been put down just recently.”

  He knelt to give the carpet a closer look. “Are you sure? This entire room looks like it’s all of a piece.”

  She nodded. “Yes, it’s a good job. One would think it was all laid at the same time.”

  “So what makes you think any differently?”

  “The smells. Carpet goes through a period of outgassing to release the odors of manufacturing chemicals. It’s faint, but I can pick up traces of butylated hydroxytoluene, formaldehyde, and 4-phenylcyclohexine.”

  His brows rose. “What’s 4-phenylcyclohexine?”

  “You may know it as 4-PC.”

  “Oh, of course.” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t smell a thing.”

  “That’s because you didn’t spend the first twenty years of your life depending on your sense of smell to help make your way through the world.” She pointed down at the carpet. “You might have better luck if you bury your nose in the carpet fibers.”

  “Uh, no, I’ll take your word for it. You can really identify each of those chemicals?”

  “Sure. They’re fairly common in most new carpets.” She dropped to her knees and began pulling apart the densely packed carpet pile. “Here’s the seam. See?”

  Lynch slowly nodded.

  She pointed to the wall behind the dinette table. “It probably goes all the way back there. Maybe seven feet by four feet.”

  “The pieces look exactly the same as the rest of the carpet.”

  She stood up. “That’s what worries me. I wouldn’t be disturbed if the new piece looked new. I’d expect it. But it looks like someone went to a lot of trouble to make this new piece look just like the six-year-old carpet in the rest of the room.”

  He nodded grimly. “A lot of trouble … and a very narrow field of expertise.”

  “You can start by tracing this carpet to the manufacturer. See if anyone has ordered it recently.”

  “I’ll run it by forensics.”

  She stood up. “When people engage in deception, whatever it is, they usually only consider the visual. They don’t think about the sounds, odors, and tactiles.”

  “Unfortunately, most people in law enforcement don’t think about those things, either.”

  She turned and headed for the bedroom. “I’m finished in here. Let’s look at the rest of the apartment.”

  They examined the bedroom, guest room, and two bathrooms. Everything was in place, exactly where it was supposed to be. There was no evidence that Jeff had been recently dating anyone, Kendra noted, unless Jeff ’s sleepover companion limited her stash to a year-old tube of lipstick.

  “Is his car here?” Kendra asked.

  “In the garage downstairs. I’ll take you there.”

  They took the elevator down to the garage’s dim lower level and walked toward Jeff ’s Ford Explorer. Kendra stopped a few feet short of the vehicle.

  “Have the FBI guys been in there?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  She narrowed her eyes as she slowly walked around the Explorer, soaking up as much information as she could in the shadows of the garage.

  “Anything?” Lynch asked.

  “Jeff wasn’t the last person behind the wheel.”

  “How do you know?”

  “The driver’s seat has been moved much farther back than he ever would have had it. He’s five-eleven, and that seat is set for someone six-four, maybe even six-five. But the rearview mirrors are still angled for Jeff ’s height. As if someone else was sitting in there, maybe cleaning or looking for something. But I’m quite sure you noticed that.”

  “As a matter of fact, I did. The seat, not the mirrors. But I don’t think anyone else caught it. Anything else?”

  “The windows have been wiped clean, but if you’ll look under the wipers, you’ll see some pollen.”

  Lynch lifted the right wiper blade and looked at the thin, powdery line on the bottom edge of the windshield. “Red.”

  “Pink, really.”

  Lynch produced a small evidence envelope and scooped up some of the pollen. “The FBI lab has a guy who could identify this in no time. He’ll put it under a microscope and—”

  “Pineland Hibiscus.”

  He glanced at her. “You’re sure?”

  “I’m positive that’s what this is. But by all means check it out.”

  He pocketed the envelope. “Would you like to tell me how you could possibly know that?”

  “Plants with unique fragrances are very special to someone who can’t see. So when I could see—”

  “I get it, I get it. Anything else?”

  She made one more circle around the car before answering. “No.”

  “This has been very valuable. I could really use your help, Kendra,” he said quietly.

  She looked away from him. “What do you think I’m doing here?”

  “It’s not enough. Come with me to Jeff’s office tomorrow. Take a look at his desk, talk to the other agents there. They’ll show you his notes.”

  “Are there recordings?”

  “You mean his voice memos.”

  “Yes. He was always talking into that damned little recorder. He played his voice memos back through his car stereo whenever he was driving somewhere. He said it helped him keep case details straight. I used to tell him that he just liked hearing the sound of his own voice.”

  “We have most of his recordings for this case. He backed them up to his laptop just a couple days before he disappeared. I can get you a copy of the transcriptions.”

  “I don’t want transcriptions. I want to hear them myself.”

  He studied her for a moment. “Does that mean you’ll help me?”

  Kendra cursed under her breath. Dammit, Jeff. You’re not even here, and you’re still dragging me back into that hellish hole …

  “I’ll pick you up at your place.” Lynch’s gaze was fixed on her face, reading her expression. “Eight tomorrow morning.”

  “One visit to his office. I’m not promising anymore.”

  “Fine.”

  She turned away and strode back toward the elevator. She didn’t like anything that she’d found that night. It was scaring her. The comforting premise that Jeff had gone undercover and might turn up safe and sound was fading.

  “You’re worried.” Lynch was next to her, pushing the button of the elevator. “I don’t blame you. Let me help. We can do this together.”

  His voice was persuasive, and that magnetism was in full effect. He was taking advantage of a moment of weakness and making the most of it.

  “You’re thinking I’m on the attack,” he said quietly. “And I am. But it doesn’t change the fact that I can help you. You’re afraid I’m going to use you. Turn the tables on me. Use me.”

  “I might do that.” She got onto the elevator. “It depends on what I find out tomorrow. He could still be alive, you know. For all I know, Jeff could have just found
another way to draw me into this damn case. They call you a master manipulator? Jeff wasn’t far behind you.” She punched the button. “And if I help find him and discover that’s the truth, I’m gonna kill him myself.”

  * * *

  HALF A BLOCK FROM JEFF Stedler’s condo, Oscar Laird crouched low in the front seat of his Range Rover as Lynch and Kendra Michaels roared past him in their respective cars and turned the corner. The street was well illuminated by streetlights, but he had found a shady stretch under a large Dutch elm tree.

  He picked up his mobile phone and dialed.

  Charles Schuyler answered immediately. “Okay. What have you got?”

  “Lynch and the Michaels woman just left.”

  “So she’s working the case with him?”

  “It sure sounded like it. I could hear every word they said in Agent Stedler’s condo. And I’ve got some bad news for you … She knows about the carpet.”

  He expected Schuyler to cut loose with a string of expletives; instead there was just silence. Lethal, terrifying silence.

  “Are you still there?”

  “You gave me your word.” Schuyler voice was quiet, each word measured.

  Laird would have preferred to hear the expletives. He had worked as Schuyler’s security head for many years and knew that in this mood, Schuyler was at his most vicious. “And the carpet cleaner gave me his word. He’s the best in the business.”

  “How in the hell did they find out?”

  “She … smelled it.”

  “What?”

  “I recorded the whole thing. I’ll let you listen for yourself. Kendra Michaels is … weird. She’s almost creepy.”

  “I’m glad you’re so impressed by her. What in the hell are we going to do about this? Time’s running out.”

  “It doesn’t have to be a problem. I could have her and Lynch taken care of tonight.”

  Silence.

  “Not yet, Laird.” Schuyler’s voice was thoughtful. “But have your people standing by. We’ll definitely keep that option on the table.”

  CHAPTER

  3

  FBI Headquarters

  San Diego Branch Office

  KENDRA CLIPPED THE VISITOR’S badge to her jacket lapel and glanced around the lobby area. Déjà vu. The same guards, the same black-tiled floors, the same awful fake plants. God, she hated this place.