Hindsight, p.13
Hindsight, page 13
“Fine.” She added quietly, “But there is an Option C, you know. You can forget about me and go back to your own profession…for which you’re, indeed, eminently qualified.”
“Nah, there never was an Option C.” Her smile deepened and illuminated her face. “Not since Lynch told me about the scumbags who killed your friends. So you’re stuck with me.” She got to her feet. “And now I’m going to go down and see if Olivia can put up with me for a few days.”
“Olivia?” She frowned. “Why? You can stay here.”
She shook her head. “I’d be tempted to hover and you’d hate it. Besides, I’ll probably be seeing you all the time on this case. You know Olivia and I are best buds. We don’t get a chance to hang together, and this will give us an opportunity to catch up.” She headed for the door. “See you in the morning.”
“Well, just tell her I’m tired. Otherwise she’ll be up here checking me out. You know Olivia.” Then as Jessie reached the door she said sharply, “Wait. It will probably be before that.” She’d just remembered Harley. “I’ll have to go down and pick up the dog from her.”
Jessie’s brows rose. “Dog? She’s got a dog?”
“Not if she has her way. She has certain issues with Harley. Come to think of it, so might you. It’s probably just as well I take care of him at night.”
Jessie shook her head. “After the night you’ve had, you need your rest. I’ll tell her I’ll take care of this Harley dog.”
“I…don’t really think that would be a good idea.”
“Sure it would. I like dogs and they like me. I once had a stray beagle follow me to the finish line on a marathon race in Patagonia.” She made a face. “Very inconvenient. He lost me the race—I had to keep slowing down for him because I was afraid he’d die from exhaustion. Do you know how short a beagle’s legs are? But what could I do? He wouldn’t stop. He obviously had a mission. And when we finally dragged our butts over the finish line and the media got hold of the story, he had people standing in line to adopt him. Hell, I wondered afterward if maybe that was his mission. Anyway, Harley and I will work out just fine.” She glanced over her shoulder with a mischievous grin. “After all, how on Earth could I ever resist a dog named for a motorcycle?”
Chapter
8
Kendra’s Condo
7:05 A.M.
Next Day
Come on. We’re getting on the road,” Jessie said curtly when Kendra opened the door the next morning. “Now.”
“What’s the hurry?” Kendra grabbed her handbag before she ran after Jessie toward the elevator. “I was just coming down to Olivia’s to get you. You know she usually likes to make breakfast when she has guests.”
“I’m not a guest. I’m a victim.” She punched the button. “And I refuse to look at that smug, malicious expression on her face even for breakfast. We’ll go to Starbucks.”
Kendra’s gaze was raking her face. “Circles under the eyes. Tiredness…Harley?” She couldn’t keep her lips from twitching. “I take it he didn’t love you enough to follow you across the finish line? Don’t feel bad, maybe that only works for beagles.”
“Shut up. You’re as bad as Olivia. I could tell she wasn’t pleased when I told her I was going to take care of Harley for you, but she didn’t say anything. And the dog was fine with me while Olivia and I were sitting around talking before we went to bed. I liked him. He liked me. It was when she handed me Harley’s leash and sent him into the guest room with me that it all went to hell.” She shuddered “I’ve never heard a sound like that outside of a torture victim in Afghanistan, and he kept it up all night. When I knocked on Olivia’s door for help, she only smiled and said that I had to accept the consequences if I interfered with her arrangements with you about Harley. And then she wished me a good night and shut the door.”
Kendra was laughing helplessly. “Lord, she’s tough. Harley must not have wanted to leave Olivia. I told you that she has issues with him. She set up firm rules and made me promise to share custody, but I didn’t realize she’d get that upset about you interfering. That’s all she said?”
Jessie nodded glumly. “And I wish you’d stop laughing.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just that I would have thought she’d have a little mercy on you and tell you the one thing that would have saved you.”
“And what is that?”
Kendra punched the button for the garage. “That HGTV has twenty-four-hour programming.”
* * *
Kendra was holding on to her patience by a thread. She was sitting in the FBI regional office’s fifth-floor conference room and relating the evening’s events to Metcalf, Griffin, and a pair of SDPD homicide detectives she’d never met before. The cops needed to be brought up to speed on the Woodward Academy investigation, which was a source of annoyance for all involved. Apparently there was some dispute on control and jurisdiction over the murder and attack the previous evening. Kendra made it a point never to get involved in petty squabbles, which arose in a surprising number of her investigations. But this time it was getting in her way.
After the cops and Griffin left, Metcalf brought her a cup of coffee and sat down next to her. “I’m sorry, Kendra. I feel awful.”
She wrinkled her brow. “Why?”
“I knew you were going there. I shouldn’t have let you go alone.”
“The choice wasn’t yours, Metcalf. You told me to wait until today.”
“But I knew you wouldn’t do that.” He shook his head. “When I think what could have happened…”
“It didn’t.”
He was looking down at her bandaged hands. “It did. And it easily could have been worse if Jessie hadn’t been there for you. I would never have forgiven myself.”
He was actually upset. Kendra put her hand on his arm. “Don’t beat yourself up. I know you’re always there when I need you.”
He nodded. “And I always will be. You’re…very special to me, Kendra.”
Kendra looked away. It was the closest he’d ever come to expressing the feelings she suspected he had for her. Damn. She patted his arm, leaned back, and tried to speak casually. “Yeah, we make a good team.”
His face flushed. Obviously not the response he’d hoped for. He immediately awkwardly tried to change the subject. “Uh, we need to have you sit down with our sketch artist. He’ll be in after nine tomorrow, so if we can have you come back?”
The last thing she wanted was to have this stretch out any longer than necessary. “I’d rather see if I can get together with Bill Dillingham and have him make the sketches.”
“Bill Dillingham?” he repeated in surprise. “Is he even still alive?”
“Of course he is.” Kendra made a face. “At least, I think he is.”
“He’s what, a hundred years old?”
“Don’t be ageist. I think he’s only eighty-seven or eighty-eight.”
“Only? Maybe you’d just better come to the office tomorrow and—”
“No. Age doesn’t matter. If Bill will do it for me, he’s the one I want. He’s still the best. One way or another, I’ll make sure you get the sketches tomorrow, okay?” Kendra stood. “Well, I guess I’ll hit it. Can I get a ride home?”
“Sure. I’ll take you myself.”
“I hate to ask it. This is very annoying. Can’t you do something about them returning my car? If you’re so sorry, then get me my car back by the end of the day.”
“I’ll do everything I can. Kendra…” Metcalf paused for a long moment.
Too long.
Don’t let him say anything, she prayed. She hated the thought of embarrassing him or making their professional relationship awkward. She smiled politely but very impersonally. “Yes, Metcalf?”
He finally shook his head. “Nothing. I’ll get my keys.”
* * *
Kendra received a phone message late in the afternoon that her car had been delivered to the parking garage.
Yes.
But that was the only thing that was moving with any degree of speed. It took Kendra several hours and half a dozen phone calls before she finally tracked down Bill Dillingham. She’d feared the worst when she discovered his house had been sold and no new address appeared on any of the online databases, but an old coworker at the San Diego PD finally pointed her toward a senior living community in Rancho Santa Fe, about a thirty-minute drive north of the city. By that time it was early evening and Kendra reluctantly decided to wait until the next day to visit him.
“Maybe you should have called first,” Jessie said as they exited the freeway after ten the next morning. “Even if Bill Dillingham is able, he might not be willing. Maybe the guy just wants to stay retired. Didn’t you tell me he wasn’t in the best of health the last time you saw him?”
“Yeah, it was sad. But he was weak in body, not of mind. He was very, very sharp. And if I had called him, he might have said no.”
“He could still. Even if he’s alert and has all his wits about him.”
“Work is always good for a person, and someone as talented as Bill would have trouble giving it up. I’m willing to take that chance. And we can always go back and use the FBI’s sketch artist if we have to.”
“True.” Jessie frowned. “I used to visit relatives who lived in retirement homes. I always thought those places were depressing.”
“I hope this one isn’t.” Kendra turned onto El Camino Real Drive, which would take them to the facility. “If that’s the case, maybe we can stay a little longer and try to make today a little less depressing for Bill. After all he’s done for me, it’s the least we can do.”
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, Kendra and Jessie stood slack-jawed in front of a massive, beautiful fountain that fronted acres of well-manicured grounds. In the distance, a spirited golf match was under way. A group of elderly women power-walked by them, wearing earphones and fluorescent workout clothes. On another field, a man flew a drone helicopter with his two grandchildren.
“Wow.” Jessie gave a low whistle. “Not what I was expecting.”
“Yeah, me neither. The people at the front desk said Bill isn’t in his room.”
“Do they have any idea where he is?”
“He double-booked himself for two activities on the grounds this morning. He’s either at tai chi or curling.”
“They have a curling court here?”
Kendra showed Jessie the printed yellow map the receptionist had given her. “Yep. She said she’d page him.”
“Kendra!”
They turned to see Bill Dillingham walking toward them. He looked nothing like he had the last time Kendra saw him; he was now tan and fit, and his eyes’ former twinkle had been restored. His hair was neatly coiffed, and he sported a jaunty mustache. He wore white slacks and a bright red shirt.
“Bill?” Kendra hugged him. “You look fantastic.”
“I feel fantastic. Good to see you, my dear.”
Kendra stepped back, still amazed at the smiling, healthy-looking man in front of her. She motioned toward Jessie. “Bill, this is Jessie Mercado. She’s a good friend and an amazing P.I. She’s helping me on a case.”
“Delighted.” His gaze was raking Jessie’s face. “She has an interesting aura. Bold, yet complicated. I’d like to paint her.” Bill took Jessie’s hand and kissed it. “And if that’s sexual harassment, I’m afraid you’ll just have to take me to court.”
Jessie smiled. “Pleased to meet you, Bill.”
Kendra once again took in the beautiful surroundings. “This place is incredible. I want to move in here myself. Today. Right now.”
“You’re too young. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a few decades. But it sure is a nice place to wake up to every morning.”
“Nice? That’s an understatement.” Kendra lowered her voice. “It must cost a fortune to live here.”
He shrugged. “I came into some family money and I’ve always been a good saver. I realized that being by myself was detrimental to my health and I needed interaction. So I decided to stop being careful and start spending that money. I figure if I can’t be good to myself now, when can I?”
Kendra nodded and laughed. It felt good to see Bill so vigorous and happy. “Absolutely.”
“And around the same time I moved up here, I got new doctors. They changed my medications and it’s made all the difference in the world. I feel like myself again. I’ve taken up cycling. I ride over three miles a day. And there’s always something to do around here. There are shuttles every day to the beach whenever we want a change of scenery.”
“Wow.” She added with genuine sincerity, “I’m so happy for you, Bill.”
He studied her expression. “Yes, you are. But something tells me you’re here to intrude on that happiness.”
“I’m afraid so.” She raised her bandaged hands. “I had a run-in with two creeps the other night. They killed a man. I’d like to catch them.”
Bill grabbed her wrists and held up her hands. “What did they do to you?”
“Nothing broken. Just cut. It would have been much worse if Jessie hadn’t come along.”
Bill nodded approvingly at Jessie. “I told you she had an aura.”
“I want to give the FBI sketches of the guys,” Kendra said. “And there’s nobody better than you.”
“I agree with you. Hardly a week goes by that I don’t get a call from somebody wanting me to make a sketch. I’m officially retired, Kendra. You may find this hard to believe, but I don’t even keep a pad anymore.”
Jessie thrust a large sketch pad toward him. “Will this work?”
Bill laughed. “Pencils?”
Jessie reached into her jacket and produced a fistful of pencils. “We wanted you to have a choice.”
“You get extra points for being prepared.” Bill sighed and motioned toward an outdoor table near the fountain. “We can set up here. Did you get a good look at the guys?”
“Good enough.”
They sat around one of the round tables, and Bill flipped open the pad. “This won’t take long. You’re always so clear and specific about everything you see, Kendra.”
“It’s because I couldn’t see the first twenty years of my life. Now that I can, I want to soak in every detail.”
“So I gathered. I always thought you should be able to just draw these yourself.”
“No way. I’m the worst artist you’ve ever seen. Blind kids don’t grow up drawing like other kids do. No crayons, no coloring books. My artwork hardly rises above the level of stick figure.”
“Well, I guess that’s what I’m here for.” Bill selected a pencil and put the rest down on the table. “Let’s start with the shape. Was it a long face, round face, or somewhere in between?”
* * *
It took Bill less than forty-five minutes to generate sketches of both men with enough character and detail to rival a good photograph. As always, he was able to tease the tiniest details from her memory and perfectly reproduce them onto the sketch pad pages, as if a laser printer had been hardwired to her brain.
Kendra held up the sketches side by side. One of the faces was heavier, with thick lips and bushy eyebrows that she recognized as the man who’d jumped after her into the factory. The other was sleek, with a thin nose, high cheekbones, and wide-set eyes. Both of them appeared to be somewhere in their thirties or forties. “These are good. Too good. Just seeing these faces again makes me a little sick.”
“Good. It means I did my job.” Bill stood. “Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I have a conversational French class to get to.”
“French?”
“Oui. A group of us are going to Paris next spring.” He tipped an imaginary hat toward Kendra and Jessie. “Good luck. And be careful.”
Bill turned and walked away with a decided bounce in his gait.
“Hard to believe that’s the same guy you were just talking about,” Jessie said.
“Tell me about it. That’s how I want to be in my retirement years.”
“Ah, you’ll never retire, Kendra. You’ll still be walking into crime scenes and dazzling police detectives well into your nineties.”
“Don’t say that. I don’t want to dazzle anyone. And I can’t imagine being able to stand those kinds of depressing scenarios for that long a time. That’s definitely not where I want to be.” Kendra laid the sketches on the tabletop and used her phone’s camera and scanner app to make two PDF files. She sent both to Metcalf. “These sketches are good enough that the FBI might be able to use their facial recognition systems to see if either of these matches anyone in their database.”
Jessie clicked her tongue. “That’s a real long shot.”
“It may be the only one we have.” Kendra took one last look around and suddenly frowned. “I wish every retirement facility was like this one. There should be better care for all our seniors. Life should be lived to the fullest like Bill is doing.”
“I’m with you. But not everyone is lucky enough to come into a little extra money,” Jessie said gently. “I know you’re all set to mount your soapbox and see what you can do about correcting a massive problem, but put it on hold for the time being. Just enjoy it for Bill until we get this case solved.”
Kendra nodded. She was right, of course. “I know. Think about the good and not the problems until you can solve them.” She smiled. “Then we’d better go soon before I try to become a permanent resident here. I could get used to this.”
* * *
Bill had been so quick that when Kendra got back to the condo, she still had time for a leisurely shower before she went down to Olivia’s for dinner. The shower took almost forty-five minutes, and then she spent another forty minutes washing and blow-drying her hair. It shouldn’t have taken her that long, but she found herself lingering because it was blissfully peaceful compared with what she usually had to endure in the morning when Harley was impatient to get down to Olivia.
