Hindsight, p.10
Hindsight, page 10
The instructor pulled the lever and the ground vibrated from a hidden mechanism. The aquatic center’s aluminum shell swung away, revealing a large rectangular-shaped swimming pool. The shell finally docked on a long rail. Layla blew her whistle and the students made their way into the pool.
The sport of the day was water polo.
Two teams each stood in chest-deep water on opposite sides, trying to score points against each other with an inflatable ball. The ball emitted a high-pitched pulse tone that enabled the sightless players to zero in on its location and send it toward their opponents. The teams were divided up along gender lines, and as far as Kendra could see, the girls were far better players.
After about twenty minutes, Layla walked the length of the pool toward Kendra. She was still wearing that annoyed expression, and Kendra was sure that she’d been hoping Kendra would give up and leave. “Okay, can we just get this over with?”
“Sure, when was the last time you saw Elaine?”
“Tuesday. She was killed that night.”
“How was her mood?”
She shrugged. “Same as always. She was usually a happy person. She was talking about that guide dog she was fostering. I’m ashamed to say I kind of tuned her out. She always liked to tell stories about her dogs and I’ve never been much of an animal person.” For an instant a flicker of regret touched her expression. “I had no idea it would be the last time I’d ever see her.”
“Was there anyone new in her life? Or something she may have been doing that was different than usual?”
“Like what?” she snapped. Her moment of humanity was obviously over. “Nothing was ever different with Elaine. I can’t believe she did anything that would make anyone want to kill her. For any reason.”
“She was divorced. Were there bad feelings between her and her ex-husband?”
“Define bad. She was sad about that, but it doesn’t seem like there was any real anger or resentment. They just grew apart. She took her maiden name back after the divorce, but I think they still got along. The academy holds a couple of weekend retreats every year, and her husband would actually feed and walk her dogs when she was away.”
Kendra thought about this. “So he had a key to her place?”
“I suppose,” she said impatiently. “Is that why the FBI brought you in, to make painfully obvious deductions like that one?” The woman’s tone was practically sneering.
And Kendra had enough. She shook her head. “No, they brought me in to do everything I could to find out who killed two very good people. Now what in the hell is your problem with me?”
“Are we finished here?”
She wasn’t about to let her go. “No. What have I ever done to you?”
Layla crossed her arms. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”
“Then what’s the problem here?”
Layla didn’t answer, but she was looking back toward her students still playing in the water.
“What is it?”
Layla finally turned back toward her. “You’re a hero to a lot of those kids, especially the girls. Every time you come back and talk to their classes, I hear about it.”
“That’s ridiculous. I don’t sell myself as a hero.”
“You don’t have to. They’re all online with their text-to-speech apps. They know your story and they know about your cases long before they meet you.”
“That’s hardly my fault, I never even give interviews. So what’s the issue?”
Layla hesitated and then burst out, “Because of you, these kids are spending their lives dreaming of the day they can see. They think they’re only a miracle operation away from becoming the next Kendra Michaels.”
“Who’s to say they won’t be? The medical team that gave me my sight have done the same for hundreds of others.”
“Hundreds? Out of how many tens of thousands of hopefuls?”
“I don’t know the answer to that. But I do know the odds are getting better with each passing day.”
“Come off it,” Layla said. “You know the chance of any of these kids ever seeing is close to zero.”
“Whatever the odds, there’s always room for hope.”
“They need to focus on being the best they can be with the hand they’ve been dealt. Not spending their days and nights dreaming of a life they’ll never have.”
She stared at her in disbelief. “I never stress anything else but learning and challenging themselves at every moment, every path, in their lives. Yet you still think I’m keeping these kids from being the best they can be?”
“I know you are, Dr. Michaels. I’m on the front lines here. I’ve seen thousands of blind children come through this school. I know what I’m talking about.”
“You’re wrong. The kids I’ve met, and I’d bet the kids in that pool, are amazing. You don’t give them enough credit. They’re strong and resilient and just plain wonderful. They know how to make the most of their lives and hold on to their dreams, whatever they might be.” Her voice was suddenly passionate. “And I’ll keep telling them to dream of miracles. Because somewhere out there in the world there’s a med student who’s having dreams of his own about how to make those miracles come true.”
For an instant Layla looked taken aback. Then she said harshly, “Just what I’d expect of you. Keep thinking that. But just know I won’t ever invite you to come speak to my students.”
“Noted.”
Layla turned and strode back toward her class. She blew her whistle and resumed her callouts.
Kendra took a deep breath and shook her head. Wow. Definitely a new one for her. Allison’s opinion of Kendra’s contributions had not been particularly encouraging, but she’d realized how deeply Kendra wanted to help. Layla’s blunt rudeness had caught her off guard. Maybe she should have been more controlled and not responded that sharply to the blasted woman.
But perhaps Layla’s arguments weren’t entirely without merit. Could the woman have a point? Everyone had a right to their opinion.
No time for self-doubt. Not here, not now. She could tussle with it later.
Kendra turned and walked away from the pool.
But she found herself thinking about it anyway, because it kept gnawing at her all the way to Elaine Wessler’s second-floor office in the Brockmire Building. Although it was one of the newer buildings on campus, it was made to appear quite old, with a classical design and dramatic columns lining the front side.
Kendra climbed the staircase and looked down the long hallway. Classrooms were on the right and teachers’ offices lined the left. As promised, a custodian was working on the floor, adjusting a water fountain.
Kendra approached him, and even before she could get a word out, he spoke. “Yes, ma’am. Ms. Wessler’s office is this way.” He led her to a door halfway down the corridor. He pulled out a ring of keys, each of which was black and topped by a red rubber jacket.
“Do all the keys on campus look like that?” Kendra said.
The custodian showed her the ring. “Just faculty and staff offices. Classroom keys have red jackets, and plumbing, electricity, HVAC, and maintenance closets have black jackets.”
“Interesting.”
He unlocked Elaine Wessler’s office and opened it. “Such a shame,” he said under his breath.
“Did you know her?” Kendra asked.
“A little. I used to pet her dogs when she’d let me. Depending on where they were in their training, you know. She’d sometimes bring them with her to school. Nice lady.”
“She was.” Kendra glanced at the name tag stitched on the upper-left-hand side of his jumpsuit uniform. “Thank you, Gary. I won’t be long.”
He lingered for a moment as if expecting to enter the office with her. But she stood in the doorway and he took the hint. Gary walked back toward the water fountain, where his tools were neatly arranged on a towel on the floor.
Kendra stepped into the office, appealingly cluttered with framed photos, mostly of former students and fostered dogs. There were a pair of plaques on the wall—awards in a countywide debate competition. On the desk, a tin cup with a dozen pencils, each sharpened down to the exact same length. An empty place on the desk marked where Elaine’s computer had been. The laptop was at the computer forensics lab at FBI headquarters, and Kendra knew the hard drive contents had already been copied. The techs were combing her emails for any signs of a threat.
There were no signs of a threat in her office. A Sonos music player, a filing cabinet, and a chair on each side of the desk, perfectly positioned for student-teacher conferences. The phone was angled awkwardly for any real use, but that could have been attributed to custodial staff cleanings or the FBI Evidence Response Team moving it as they examined the desk.
She tensed. A scraping sound in the hall behind her. Footsteps.
She spun around, leaned into the half-open door, and peered through the opening.
It was a little girl.
She appeared to be about twelve years old, blind, and the scraping sound was her white cane sweeping across the floor. She was holding flowers. She bent over to place the flowers in front of the door, but she suddenly froze.
She looked up. “Hello?”
“Hi,” Kendra said.
“I didn’t know anyone was here. I’m sorry.” The girl quickly turned away.
“Wait.” Kendra stepped into the hall. “Don’t go. Those flowers are beautiful. Are they for Ms. Wessler?”
The girl stopped. “Yes.”
“They smell heavenly. I know she would have loved those.”
She turned. “They’re carnations. They were her favorite.“
“Really? She told you that?”
“She didn’t have to. I could always smell them from a vase on her desk in class.”
Kendra smiled. “That’s very sweet and you’re smart to remember that. What’s your name?”
“Ariel. Ariel Jones.”
“I’m sorry about what happened to your teacher, Ariel. She was a nice lady.”
Sadness fell over the girl’s face. She had a dimpled chin, high cheekbones, and long blond hair, and her bright blue eyes were misting with tears. “She was the best. I miss her so much.”
“I feel the same way, Ariel. I knew her from the time when I was a little girl.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I was a student here until I was thirteen.”
“Are you blind?”
“No, but I was then.”
Ariel gasped. “Jeez. You’re Kendra Michaels.”
“I am.”
“Whoa.”
Kendra chuckled. “You make me feel like a rock star.” Then Kendra remembered Layla’s harsh words. “Unless being Kendra Michaels isn’t such a good thing around here anymore.”
Ariel smiled. “You are a rock star. And you’re gonna find out who killed Ms. Wessler. And Mr. Kim.”
“I’m trying.”
“You will.”
Kendra looked around. “You shouldn’t be in here alone. Shouldn’t you be in class?”
“Recess.” She beamed. “And I’m not alone. I’m with you.”
“You should stay close to your classes and teachers, especially now. Or at least have a friend with you if decide to wander off.”
“I don’t have that many friends.” She made a face. “I’m sort of a computer geek, and the other kids think it’s kind of weird that I want to spend so much time working and trying to figure out stuff. But that’s okay, sometimes being alone is kind of…comfortable. No one gets in your way if you’re concentrating or just thinking. You know?”
“Yes, I do know. But I believe you could dig up a friend or two to hang out with if you tried during this situation. Right?”
She shrugged. “I guess so.”
“Though I was told that a lot of the parents are keeping their kids home.”
“They are. Most of the kids I know still haven’t come back. But my mom and my brother live in Pennsylvania and it would cost too much for me to fly home. Besides, I’m not scared.”
Kendra studied her. It wasn’t just youthful bravado; Ariel wasn’t scared. She spoke with defiance, standing her ground against the beast that might still be lurking nearby. But a little fear might be a good thing for her right now. “Well, I’m scared. You need to be careful. Do you understand?”
Ariel nodded. “I just wanted to put these flowers in front of Ms. Wessler’s office. Because she was my friend. And I think flowers always made her happy. She didn’t seem happy the last few times I was with her.”
“What do you mean?”
“She wore glasses attached to a chain around her neck. There were beads or something on it. I could hear them when she moved.”
Kendra remembered the crime scene photos of the glasses and broken chain near her corpse. She shook off the memory. “I don’t remember Ms. Wessler wearing glasses when I was a student here.”
“She put them on only when she was reading something to us. But in her last few classes, she was fidgeting with her glasses a lot more. I could hear the beads.”
“Fidgeted…like she was nervous?”
“Exactly,” Ariel said gravely.
“She didn’t do that before?”
“Never. And she took a lot of deep breaths between sentences. And they were kind of jagged. She was upset or nervous about something.”
Kendra nodded. She knew what the girl meant. She’d been able to pick up on such subtle cues since childhood, as could most blind children. If there was anyone to take seriously about this, it was Ariel and Elaine’s other students.
“Did she say why anything could have been wrong?”
“No. I thought maybe something happened to her foster dog, but I don’t think that was it.”
“I don’t think so, either.” Kendra took one last look around the office. “Thanks for your help, Ariel. I think I’m done here.”
“You’re welcome. If I think of anything else you should know, I’ll be sure to call the FBI.”
Kendra could imagine Metcalf taking that call, and she didn’t want to chance this child being hurt by a brush-off. She found Ariel’s odd mixture of glowing fragility and toughness very appealing. “Suppose we keep it between ourselves?” She handed Ariel her card. “But you’ve already been very helpful and you mustn’t feel bad if you can’t remember anything else.”
“I know that, but I have to be ready in case I do.” She tucked the card in her jean pocket. “Now, where are we going?”
“You are going back to your class. I’m walking you back and making sure your teacher keeps a closer watch on her students.”
“Are you gonna make a scene?”
“Would it embarrass you if I did?”
She thought about it. “Nope, not a bit. Go for it.”
Kendra laughed. “You’re a strange little girl, you know that?”
A luminous smile suddenly lit her face. “Oh, you have no idea.”
* * *
Kendra delivered Ariel back to her class without making too much of a scene since the recess supervisor was already mortified that one of her charges had slipped away unnoticed. Kendra called Metcalf as she walked back to her car.
He was in the middle of a meeting, but he answered her call and continued the conversation in the hallway outside the conference room.
“You didn’t have to leave your meeting on my account, Metcalf.”
“Aah, it was getting dull anyway. What’s up?”
“The missing key in Elaine Wessler’s house…It was a spare key to her office at the academy.”
“How did you find that out?”
She told him about the academy’s colored-jacket system for their keys. “And since there was no sign of a forced entry at her house, I’d say that it and the other items were taken by someone with a key to her place. Like maybe her ex-husband.”
“Her ex? We talked to him on the phone because he was in Tokyo on business. You have the interview notes in the case file. No bad blood there, and he had a great alibi since he was on the other side of the world.” He paused. “How do you know he had a key to her place?”
“He still walked and fed her dogs when she was away.”
“Nice.”
“Maybe. But if he took those things from her house after Evidence Response did their sweep, I’d sure like to know why.”
“Me too. I’ll talk to him about it tomorrow morning.”
“Why not now?”
“He just got in from Tokyo early this morning. He made an appointment to come in and talk to us tomorrow. Besides, I’m tied up here for the rest of the afternoon. But first thing tomorrow we can—”
“Is his address in the interview notes?”
“It should be.” He paused. “You’re not going to wait until tomorrow, are you?”
“Thanks, Metcalf. Gotta run.”
“Come on, Kendra…”
“I’ll let you know what I find out. I promise.”
She cut the connection.
Chapter
7
It was almost sunset when Kendra’s Uber car rolled up in front of the Bayside Lofts complex within sight of the Coronado Bridge. It was one of several warehouses south of downtown that had been converted to “artists’ lofts,” code for bare-bones living quarters hardly fit for human occupancy. They were situated along a stretch of shoreline where several marine maintenance and repair firms had once operated massive shipyards. Following a period of consolidation, several of the shipyards had been deserted; the loft conversions were the first step in what city fathers hoped would be a rejuvenation of the grimy, run-down area. For the moment, however, the complex’s residents saw little of the WORK-LIVE-SHOP-PLAY promised by signs all around the two reconditioned factory buildings. The rest of the area still looked very much like the deserted shipyard it had been for years.
Kendra double-checked the address in her case file. This was where Elaine Wessler’s ex-husband, Kit Randolph, lived. According to the interview notes, Randolph had seemed anxious to meet the authorities upon his return to the country. Maybe he had something to say.
Kendra entered the building lobby where the two elevator doors had well-worn developer signs reading ELEVATORS COMING SOON. Not too soon, she guessed.
