Flashback, p.4
Flashback, page 4
“Yeah. Knock yourselves out.”
Kendra and Metcalf moved through the doorway, where Paula Chase’s bloody body was sprawled on the floor beside her torn-up bed.
As difficult as it was to see, Kendra forced herself to keep looking. She’d never get used to the grisly and depressing sight of someone murdered in cold blood. The two latex-gloved forensics techs leaning over her obviously had no such issues, as they worked with clinical detachment.
Paula Chase wore the same cream-colored suit she’d been sporting at her and Kendra’s one and only meeting at the Pacific Villas retirement community the day before. Her hands were bagged to preserve later evidence collection efforts at the morgue, and there were at least three puncture wounds on her torso. Her face was frozen in a horrible grimace, showing how excruciating her last minutes were for her.
“She definitely walked in on her intruder,” Kendra said, trying to adopt the same steely discipline as the techs. “He continued tearing the place apart after he killed her.”
“How do you figure that?” Metcalf asked.
Kendra pointed toward the mattress stuffing around the corpse. “Most of the stuffing and other debris is beneath her body, but some is on top. He killed her after most of the place had been ransacked, but finished the job after her murder.”
“You’re saying ‘he.’ Is there a reason for that?”
“Yes. In the living room, there’s a faint partial heel print in blood. It’s a large heel, probably a man’s size twelve or thirteen. It was tracked in there after Paula’s blood was spilled. There’s a texture to it that suggests the print was stamped through a medical bootie.”
Metcalf pointed to the bootie-clad feet of the evidence collection techs. “It could have been one of them.”
Kendra shook her head. “Not likely.”
“I agree,” a strong male voice said behind them.
Kendra and Metcalf turned to see a police detective Kendra hadn’t met before. He wore his badge and ID around his neck, identifying him as Detective Raymond Perry.
Perry nodded at Kendra. “The living room print is from an athletic shoe, which none of our people on this scene is wearing. Am I right?”
“Yes.” Kendra extended her right hand. “Kendra Michaels.”
Perry shook her hand. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Really? It’s more than your colleague would say.”
“Breen? I’m not sure he wants to be here himself. Anyway, I’m quite confident of our ability to investigate this case without your help, Ms. Michaels. I was referring to the fact that you were among the last people to see Paula Chase alive. You’re on my list of people I need to talk to.”
“Of course.” Kendra looked back down at Paula’s corpse. “It’s still so hard to believe. I’d just met her. She seemed like a special lady. She tried so hard to do the right thing for those missing women. I’m not sure she got the respect she deserved in the last days of her life.”
Metcalf nodded. “My feeling is, she didn’t get a whole lot of help from the FBI.” He looked up at Perry. “I’m Special Agent Roland Metcalf. She came to see us, too. Who found her?”
“We got a call from the next-door neighbor. The houses are close together here, and he had his windows open. He heard a lot of strange noises from here early in the evening. Breaking dishes, toppled furniture, that kind of stuff. Shortly after dark, he saw someone leaving the residence that clearly wasn’t Ms. Chase.”
“Did he see the guy well enough to give a description?” Kendra asked.
“Not much of one. Just that it appeared to be a man dressed in dark clothing. He walked down to the corner and turned right. The neighbor could see Paula Chase’s car in the garage, so he knocked on the door to check on her. When there was no answer, he tried to look into the windows. The blinds were drawn all around, but there was one opening just big enough for him to see that the place had been trashed. So he called the police, and they came for a welfare check. They broke in and found her.”
“Security cameras or webcams in the neighborhood?” Metcalf asked.
Perry nodded. “Two webcams on this block, a few more around the corner. After sunrise, we’ll ask the owners for access and see if there is anything saved in the cloud we can use.”
“Good.” Kendra looked at the objects strewn all over the floor. “Any idea what the killer was looking for?”
“No. Her purse was emptied in the foyer. If there was any cash in it, that was taken. But credit and ATM cards are still there.”
Kendra turned and knelt on the bedroom floor. “Even the tiniest drawers and cubbies have been searched. It could be something very small. And the pillows have been shredded. What could you possibly hide inside one of your bedroom pillows?”
“Something worth killing for,” Metcalf added.
Something occurred to Kendra. “Did you find her dog?”
“He was locked in a hall closet. The doggy is fine. The next-door neighbor has him now. Her sister’s flying in from out of state, so I guess she’ll figure out what to do with the pooch.”
“That’s a relief.”
Perry half smiled. “… you say as you stand over their owner’s slaughtered corpse.”
“I’m quite sure Paula would be even more relieved. She loved her dog.”
“Judging from all the framed photos I’ve seen around here, I’d say you’re right,” Perry said.
Kendra looked at the smashed photo frames and papers spread over the floor. “You know… This may be nothing, but there is something that might have been of interest to whoever broke in here.”
“What’s that?”
“Are you aware of the Bayside Strangler case files that the Morgan sisters compiled?”
Perry wrinkled his brow. “They had a copy of the police file?”
“No. Well, that might have been part of it, but they’ve spent years interviewing witnesses and doing their own investigating. It never really led anywhere, but the sisters’ aunt offered it up to the police after they went missing. I assume it was probably Detective Breen. Anyway, the offer was refused. I guess your department didn’t think it had much bearing on the missing persons case. Paula took possession of the files to study them. There were thousands of pages.”
“Huh.” Perry glanced around. “I haven’t seen anything like that around here. You think maybe they were taken?”
“No. Definitely not.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I have them. All of them.”
Metcalf looked as surprised as Perry. “How did that happen?”
“Paula gave them to me. I told her I’d take a look and let her know if I thought there was anything I could do to help. They’re in my condo.”
Perry nodded. “Interesting. You really think there’s anything in those files that could trigger this kind of mayhem?”
“I haven’t had a chance to look at them yet, but Paula went through all those boxes page by page. She didn’t see anything that jumped out at her.”
“Maybe we should take a look. How about if I send someone by to pick them up later today?”
“Sure. Call first, and I’ll make sure I’m around.”
“Good. No problem. Will do. Thanks for cooperating.”
Dawn was breaking when Kendra and Metcalf stepped outside Paula’s house and walked together down the driveway.
“What do you think?” Kendra asked. “See anything that will make the FBI want to get involved?”
“Not sure. I’ll write my report later this morning. The files that those women pulled together may have more interest for everyone now. Sad to say, Paula Chase will probably have better luck attracting interest in the case just by dying.”
Kendra made a face. Not only sad, totally tragic. “Unfortunately, I was thinking the same thing.”
Metcalf glanced at his watch. “It’s still early. Want to grab some breakfast?”
“I’m afraid I can’t. I have to meet a client at my studio.”
“Now?”
“In about an hour. I’ve been working with an autistic child a couple of times a week. She’s fresher and more responsive in the mornings, so her mother brings her before school.”
“Too bad. I’m thinking about chicken and waffles at Hash House a Go Go.”
“Rub it in, Metcalf. You know I love that place.”
“Or I might go for the pumpkin waffles at Cafe 222.”
“Now you’re just being cruel.”
“It’s what I do best.” He shrugged. “Sorry you can’t join me. It would be nice to catch up.”
“Soon, I promise.”
Metcalf nodded and held eye contact with her as he backed away. Most of Kendra’s friends and colleagues, especially Lynch, insisted that Metcalf had a major crush on her, despite the fact that he never seemed to have any shortage of female attention. She’d refused to believe it until recently, when his long looks and sedated hospital proclamations finally convinced her they might be right. Face it, she hadn’t wanted to believe it. She had enough problems with her career—and then there was Lynch, who was constantly on the scene and in her life.
But Metcalf was still lingering. “Let us know if you find out anything, Kendra.”
“You know I will.”
He slowly shook his head. “Not really.”
“Point taken. Touch base with me if the Bureau decides to get involved. I promise I won’t freeze you out, Metcalf.”
He grinned. “I’ll hold you to that.”
“Good. See that you do.”
Kendra drove straight to her studio in a medical plaza, where the large room was adorned with electronic keyboards, flatscreen monitors, and several other instruments, all in service of her music therapy practice. After a few minutes, eight-year-old Cecilia Barton arrived with her mother. The autistic child had been growing increasingly withdrawn in the years before they met, but Kendra discovered that she responded to a series of music games. Within months, Cecilia became more talkative and engaged in school and her other interpersonal relationships, and her parents and educators had given Kendra’s exercises all the credit for her progress.
Kendra knew Cecilia could still slide backward, so she’d recently designed slightly more complex games that required even greater interaction. Cecilia had so far risen to the challenge, but this morning Kendra found herself distracted by memories of the murder scene she’d visited only hours before. She didn’t think the girl or her mother noticed, but she hated not being completely present for her clients. Particularly when it involved a child. She concentrated and was able to give the girl her full attention.
“Good,” Kendra said after seeing Cecilia correctly match three lengthy note sequences. “Try the next group.”
The girl was getting better and faster with this game, but Kendra found it was herself that was finding it increasingly difficult to focus.
Damn. As long as the Morgan sisters were still missing and Paula Chase’s killer was on the loose, sessions like this weren’t going to get any easier.
The case had grabbed her and wasn’t letting go.
Kendra said her goodbyes to Cecilia and her mother and was on her way out to her car when her text notification chimed.
She looked at her phone. It was a text from Lynch: HAVE FUN AT YOUR EARLY MORNING MURDER SCENE?
She leaned against her car and tapped out her reply: WONDERFUL. NOTHING LIKE A PRE-DAWN SLAUGHTER TO START THE DAY.
HMM. STILL QUESTIONING DECISION TO TIP YOU OFF. MAYBE SHOULD HAVE LET YOU SLEEP AND DREAM OF ADAM LYNCH.
She inserted a “rolling eyes” emoji and responded: AS ALWAYS, LYNCH HAS INSANELY INFLATED SENSE OF SELF.
MUST DISAGREE. SENSE OF SELF EERILY IN LINE WITH HIGH REGARD FROM WORLD LEADERS, LAWMAKERS, AND GENERAL POPULATION.
MORE IN LINE WITH NARCISSISTIC PERSONALITY DISORDER, PERHAPS.
CONVERSATION NOW TAKING MOST UNPLEASANT TURN.
She smiled and replied: MORE UNPLEASANT THAN GRUESOME MURDER SCENE?
FOR ME, PERHAPS.
SPOKEN LIKE TRUE NARCISSIST. WHERE ARE YOU? EXPECTED PHONE CALL, NOT TEXT.
His response came a few moments later: NOW SURROUNDED BY PARTIES TO A SENSITIVE NEGOTIATION. MAKING THEM BELIEVE CONCERNS ARE BEING TAKEN SERIOUSLY AND CAREFULLY RESEARCHED ON ENCRYPTED CELL PHONE.
INCREDIBLE. PERHAPS SHOULD TERMINATE TEXT CONVERSATION UNTIL LATER TIME.
NOT NECESSARY. TACTIC NOW GIVING NEGOTIATIONS ROOM TO BREATHE. BACK TO MORE PLEASANT MATTERS, WHAT IS THE STATUS OF YOUR INVOLVEMENT IN GRUESOME SAN DIEGO MISSING PERSONS/MURDER CASE?
Kendra crossed her arms in front of her while she thought about it. She knew the answer, of course. There was no way she could walk away from those young women or the heroic former police detective who may have given her life trying to save them. She tapped out her two-word reply:
ALL IN.
CHAPTER
4
Kendra grabbed some croissants from Bagatelle on the way home. She figured she’d catch up on her emails and then see if Olivia wanted to come over after lunch. Then maybe she could have a long talk with her and find out what on earth was happening at the condo. After that, maybe she’d—
What the hell?
Kendra had opened the door of her condo to see that the place was a wreck. A repeat of Paula Chase’s home, with almost every square inch of floor space covered with papers, silverware, and knickknacks from her emptied drawers, shelves, and refrigerator.
As she glanced over the mess, she saw that every item of value was present and accounted for.
TV? Check.
Laptop? Check.
Ridiculously expensive stereo system? Check.
She whirled around. One thing was missing.
The Morgan sisters’ case files. Shit! There was no trace of them. The three file boxes and dolly were gone. It was clearly what her intruder was after.
Her hunch at the murder scene had been correct. Somebody really wanted to get their hands on those files.
But why?
An hour later, Detective Perry and a pair of uniformed officers were at Kendra’s condo, trying their best to step around the mess in her foyer and living room.
Perry surveyed the scene. “After what happened to Detective Chase, I’d say you’re lucky you weren’t home.”
“Maybe,” Kendra said. “But now we’ve lost those files.”
“We’ll dust for prints, but our suspect probably wore gloves. That was the story at Chase’s house.” Perry looked at the three heavy-duty dead bolt locks on her door. “You’re well fortified here. Good locks and a steel-reinforced frame. Difficult locks to pick, but that looks like exactly what happened.”
“I think so, too. I was assured these were almost impossible to defeat.”
“They usually are, at least to almost any sneak thief I’ve ever met. We work with a former burglar who speaks to neighborhood watch groups about the best ways to protect their homes. He recommends a couple of these same locks. You’re pretty much doing everything right. If anything, this may be a bit of overkill. Three dead bolts?”
“I’ve had problems in the past. A couple of my investigations followed me home.”
Perry made a face. “No wonder you’re so reluctant to take on these cases. Anyway, Detective Chase also had good locks and even an alarm. Whoever this is, they know what they’re doing. A far cry from your typical residential burglar.”
Kendra looked down at the floor. “This is strange.”
“Your condo getting tossed? I guess ‘strange’ is one way of looking at it.”
She walked from her living room to the front door. “No, I mean… That dolly with the files was heavy. The wheels would have made impressions on all the papers and photos on the floor between the living room and foyer. But I don’t see a single mark.”
He stared at the floor. “Neither do I. You think they moved the cart out and trashed your place afterward?”
“Why would they do that? It doesn’t make sense.” Kendra opened her door and walked down the hallway. Perry joined her. She pointed to the floor, where the fine carpet nap showed the path taken by the dolly’s twin wheels. “It was rolled to the elevator.”
“Yes. Then out the building’s front door?”
She bit her lip. “There’s a security camera in the main lobby. Why go that way when there are two other exits where it’s easier to slip out unnoticed?”
“You said the dolly was heavy.”
“Still not that difficult to roll down a step at a time. Our burglar seems too thorough to risk going out the front door.”
“You never know. We’ll look at the security cam footage. I’ll talk to the building manager.”
Something else occurred to Kendra. “Follow me.”
“Are we going to the manager’s office?”
“No.”
Kendra led him into the elevator and punched the second-floor button. In less than a minute, she leaned out the door and looked down the hallway. “This is our stop.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
They followed the wheel marks on the carpet until they ended in front of a condo door.
“That’s a surprise,” he said.
“Not really.” She knocked on the door.
After a moment, Olivia answered. “Good morning, Kendra.” She cocked her head, obviously picking up Perry’s breathing. “Who’s your friend?”
“Detective Raymond Perry, SDPD,” he replied.
“Oooh.” She was still smiling. “Am I under arrest?”
“Only if you stole a dolly cart of files from my condo this morning,” Kendra said.
“Guilty as charged.” Olivia swung the door open wide to reveal the dolly and three boxes of files, with folders stacked all over the large wraparound desk that dominated the condo’s living room area. A muscular young man stood in front of the desk, feeding a sheaf of papers into a scanner. “Though I don’t think the charges will stick,” Olivia said. “I have a distinct recollection that you wanted these to be scanned.”
“Thank God,” Kendra said, rushing toward the file boxes. “They’re all here!”
Kendra and Metcalf moved through the doorway, where Paula Chase’s bloody body was sprawled on the floor beside her torn-up bed.
As difficult as it was to see, Kendra forced herself to keep looking. She’d never get used to the grisly and depressing sight of someone murdered in cold blood. The two latex-gloved forensics techs leaning over her obviously had no such issues, as they worked with clinical detachment.
Paula Chase wore the same cream-colored suit she’d been sporting at her and Kendra’s one and only meeting at the Pacific Villas retirement community the day before. Her hands were bagged to preserve later evidence collection efforts at the morgue, and there were at least three puncture wounds on her torso. Her face was frozen in a horrible grimace, showing how excruciating her last minutes were for her.
“She definitely walked in on her intruder,” Kendra said, trying to adopt the same steely discipline as the techs. “He continued tearing the place apart after he killed her.”
“How do you figure that?” Metcalf asked.
Kendra pointed toward the mattress stuffing around the corpse. “Most of the stuffing and other debris is beneath her body, but some is on top. He killed her after most of the place had been ransacked, but finished the job after her murder.”
“You’re saying ‘he.’ Is there a reason for that?”
“Yes. In the living room, there’s a faint partial heel print in blood. It’s a large heel, probably a man’s size twelve or thirteen. It was tracked in there after Paula’s blood was spilled. There’s a texture to it that suggests the print was stamped through a medical bootie.”
Metcalf pointed to the bootie-clad feet of the evidence collection techs. “It could have been one of them.”
Kendra shook her head. “Not likely.”
“I agree,” a strong male voice said behind them.
Kendra and Metcalf turned to see a police detective Kendra hadn’t met before. He wore his badge and ID around his neck, identifying him as Detective Raymond Perry.
Perry nodded at Kendra. “The living room print is from an athletic shoe, which none of our people on this scene is wearing. Am I right?”
“Yes.” Kendra extended her right hand. “Kendra Michaels.”
Perry shook her hand. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Really? It’s more than your colleague would say.”
“Breen? I’m not sure he wants to be here himself. Anyway, I’m quite confident of our ability to investigate this case without your help, Ms. Michaels. I was referring to the fact that you were among the last people to see Paula Chase alive. You’re on my list of people I need to talk to.”
“Of course.” Kendra looked back down at Paula’s corpse. “It’s still so hard to believe. I’d just met her. She seemed like a special lady. She tried so hard to do the right thing for those missing women. I’m not sure she got the respect she deserved in the last days of her life.”
Metcalf nodded. “My feeling is, she didn’t get a whole lot of help from the FBI.” He looked up at Perry. “I’m Special Agent Roland Metcalf. She came to see us, too. Who found her?”
“We got a call from the next-door neighbor. The houses are close together here, and he had his windows open. He heard a lot of strange noises from here early in the evening. Breaking dishes, toppled furniture, that kind of stuff. Shortly after dark, he saw someone leaving the residence that clearly wasn’t Ms. Chase.”
“Did he see the guy well enough to give a description?” Kendra asked.
“Not much of one. Just that it appeared to be a man dressed in dark clothing. He walked down to the corner and turned right. The neighbor could see Paula Chase’s car in the garage, so he knocked on the door to check on her. When there was no answer, he tried to look into the windows. The blinds were drawn all around, but there was one opening just big enough for him to see that the place had been trashed. So he called the police, and they came for a welfare check. They broke in and found her.”
“Security cameras or webcams in the neighborhood?” Metcalf asked.
Perry nodded. “Two webcams on this block, a few more around the corner. After sunrise, we’ll ask the owners for access and see if there is anything saved in the cloud we can use.”
“Good.” Kendra looked at the objects strewn all over the floor. “Any idea what the killer was looking for?”
“No. Her purse was emptied in the foyer. If there was any cash in it, that was taken. But credit and ATM cards are still there.”
Kendra turned and knelt on the bedroom floor. “Even the tiniest drawers and cubbies have been searched. It could be something very small. And the pillows have been shredded. What could you possibly hide inside one of your bedroom pillows?”
“Something worth killing for,” Metcalf added.
Something occurred to Kendra. “Did you find her dog?”
“He was locked in a hall closet. The doggy is fine. The next-door neighbor has him now. Her sister’s flying in from out of state, so I guess she’ll figure out what to do with the pooch.”
“That’s a relief.”
Perry half smiled. “… you say as you stand over their owner’s slaughtered corpse.”
“I’m quite sure Paula would be even more relieved. She loved her dog.”
“Judging from all the framed photos I’ve seen around here, I’d say you’re right,” Perry said.
Kendra looked at the smashed photo frames and papers spread over the floor. “You know… This may be nothing, but there is something that might have been of interest to whoever broke in here.”
“What’s that?”
“Are you aware of the Bayside Strangler case files that the Morgan sisters compiled?”
Perry wrinkled his brow. “They had a copy of the police file?”
“No. Well, that might have been part of it, but they’ve spent years interviewing witnesses and doing their own investigating. It never really led anywhere, but the sisters’ aunt offered it up to the police after they went missing. I assume it was probably Detective Breen. Anyway, the offer was refused. I guess your department didn’t think it had much bearing on the missing persons case. Paula took possession of the files to study them. There were thousands of pages.”
“Huh.” Perry glanced around. “I haven’t seen anything like that around here. You think maybe they were taken?”
“No. Definitely not.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I have them. All of them.”
Metcalf looked as surprised as Perry. “How did that happen?”
“Paula gave them to me. I told her I’d take a look and let her know if I thought there was anything I could do to help. They’re in my condo.”
Perry nodded. “Interesting. You really think there’s anything in those files that could trigger this kind of mayhem?”
“I haven’t had a chance to look at them yet, but Paula went through all those boxes page by page. She didn’t see anything that jumped out at her.”
“Maybe we should take a look. How about if I send someone by to pick them up later today?”
“Sure. Call first, and I’ll make sure I’m around.”
“Good. No problem. Will do. Thanks for cooperating.”
Dawn was breaking when Kendra and Metcalf stepped outside Paula’s house and walked together down the driveway.
“What do you think?” Kendra asked. “See anything that will make the FBI want to get involved?”
“Not sure. I’ll write my report later this morning. The files that those women pulled together may have more interest for everyone now. Sad to say, Paula Chase will probably have better luck attracting interest in the case just by dying.”
Kendra made a face. Not only sad, totally tragic. “Unfortunately, I was thinking the same thing.”
Metcalf glanced at his watch. “It’s still early. Want to grab some breakfast?”
“I’m afraid I can’t. I have to meet a client at my studio.”
“Now?”
“In about an hour. I’ve been working with an autistic child a couple of times a week. She’s fresher and more responsive in the mornings, so her mother brings her before school.”
“Too bad. I’m thinking about chicken and waffles at Hash House a Go Go.”
“Rub it in, Metcalf. You know I love that place.”
“Or I might go for the pumpkin waffles at Cafe 222.”
“Now you’re just being cruel.”
“It’s what I do best.” He shrugged. “Sorry you can’t join me. It would be nice to catch up.”
“Soon, I promise.”
Metcalf nodded and held eye contact with her as he backed away. Most of Kendra’s friends and colleagues, especially Lynch, insisted that Metcalf had a major crush on her, despite the fact that he never seemed to have any shortage of female attention. She’d refused to believe it until recently, when his long looks and sedated hospital proclamations finally convinced her they might be right. Face it, she hadn’t wanted to believe it. She had enough problems with her career—and then there was Lynch, who was constantly on the scene and in her life.
But Metcalf was still lingering. “Let us know if you find out anything, Kendra.”
“You know I will.”
He slowly shook his head. “Not really.”
“Point taken. Touch base with me if the Bureau decides to get involved. I promise I won’t freeze you out, Metcalf.”
He grinned. “I’ll hold you to that.”
“Good. See that you do.”
Kendra drove straight to her studio in a medical plaza, where the large room was adorned with electronic keyboards, flatscreen monitors, and several other instruments, all in service of her music therapy practice. After a few minutes, eight-year-old Cecilia Barton arrived with her mother. The autistic child had been growing increasingly withdrawn in the years before they met, but Kendra discovered that she responded to a series of music games. Within months, Cecilia became more talkative and engaged in school and her other interpersonal relationships, and her parents and educators had given Kendra’s exercises all the credit for her progress.
Kendra knew Cecilia could still slide backward, so she’d recently designed slightly more complex games that required even greater interaction. Cecilia had so far risen to the challenge, but this morning Kendra found herself distracted by memories of the murder scene she’d visited only hours before. She didn’t think the girl or her mother noticed, but she hated not being completely present for her clients. Particularly when it involved a child. She concentrated and was able to give the girl her full attention.
“Good,” Kendra said after seeing Cecilia correctly match three lengthy note sequences. “Try the next group.”
The girl was getting better and faster with this game, but Kendra found it was herself that was finding it increasingly difficult to focus.
Damn. As long as the Morgan sisters were still missing and Paula Chase’s killer was on the loose, sessions like this weren’t going to get any easier.
The case had grabbed her and wasn’t letting go.
Kendra said her goodbyes to Cecilia and her mother and was on her way out to her car when her text notification chimed.
She looked at her phone. It was a text from Lynch: HAVE FUN AT YOUR EARLY MORNING MURDER SCENE?
She leaned against her car and tapped out her reply: WONDERFUL. NOTHING LIKE A PRE-DAWN SLAUGHTER TO START THE DAY.
HMM. STILL QUESTIONING DECISION TO TIP YOU OFF. MAYBE SHOULD HAVE LET YOU SLEEP AND DREAM OF ADAM LYNCH.
She inserted a “rolling eyes” emoji and responded: AS ALWAYS, LYNCH HAS INSANELY INFLATED SENSE OF SELF.
MUST DISAGREE. SENSE OF SELF EERILY IN LINE WITH HIGH REGARD FROM WORLD LEADERS, LAWMAKERS, AND GENERAL POPULATION.
MORE IN LINE WITH NARCISSISTIC PERSONALITY DISORDER, PERHAPS.
CONVERSATION NOW TAKING MOST UNPLEASANT TURN.
She smiled and replied: MORE UNPLEASANT THAN GRUESOME MURDER SCENE?
FOR ME, PERHAPS.
SPOKEN LIKE TRUE NARCISSIST. WHERE ARE YOU? EXPECTED PHONE CALL, NOT TEXT.
His response came a few moments later: NOW SURROUNDED BY PARTIES TO A SENSITIVE NEGOTIATION. MAKING THEM BELIEVE CONCERNS ARE BEING TAKEN SERIOUSLY AND CAREFULLY RESEARCHED ON ENCRYPTED CELL PHONE.
INCREDIBLE. PERHAPS SHOULD TERMINATE TEXT CONVERSATION UNTIL LATER TIME.
NOT NECESSARY. TACTIC NOW GIVING NEGOTIATIONS ROOM TO BREATHE. BACK TO MORE PLEASANT MATTERS, WHAT IS THE STATUS OF YOUR INVOLVEMENT IN GRUESOME SAN DIEGO MISSING PERSONS/MURDER CASE?
Kendra crossed her arms in front of her while she thought about it. She knew the answer, of course. There was no way she could walk away from those young women or the heroic former police detective who may have given her life trying to save them. She tapped out her two-word reply:
ALL IN.
CHAPTER
4
Kendra grabbed some croissants from Bagatelle on the way home. She figured she’d catch up on her emails and then see if Olivia wanted to come over after lunch. Then maybe she could have a long talk with her and find out what on earth was happening at the condo. After that, maybe she’d—
What the hell?
Kendra had opened the door of her condo to see that the place was a wreck. A repeat of Paula Chase’s home, with almost every square inch of floor space covered with papers, silverware, and knickknacks from her emptied drawers, shelves, and refrigerator.
As she glanced over the mess, she saw that every item of value was present and accounted for.
TV? Check.
Laptop? Check.
Ridiculously expensive stereo system? Check.
She whirled around. One thing was missing.
The Morgan sisters’ case files. Shit! There was no trace of them. The three file boxes and dolly were gone. It was clearly what her intruder was after.
Her hunch at the murder scene had been correct. Somebody really wanted to get their hands on those files.
But why?
An hour later, Detective Perry and a pair of uniformed officers were at Kendra’s condo, trying their best to step around the mess in her foyer and living room.
Perry surveyed the scene. “After what happened to Detective Chase, I’d say you’re lucky you weren’t home.”
“Maybe,” Kendra said. “But now we’ve lost those files.”
“We’ll dust for prints, but our suspect probably wore gloves. That was the story at Chase’s house.” Perry looked at the three heavy-duty dead bolt locks on her door. “You’re well fortified here. Good locks and a steel-reinforced frame. Difficult locks to pick, but that looks like exactly what happened.”
“I think so, too. I was assured these were almost impossible to defeat.”
“They usually are, at least to almost any sneak thief I’ve ever met. We work with a former burglar who speaks to neighborhood watch groups about the best ways to protect their homes. He recommends a couple of these same locks. You’re pretty much doing everything right. If anything, this may be a bit of overkill. Three dead bolts?”
“I’ve had problems in the past. A couple of my investigations followed me home.”
Perry made a face. “No wonder you’re so reluctant to take on these cases. Anyway, Detective Chase also had good locks and even an alarm. Whoever this is, they know what they’re doing. A far cry from your typical residential burglar.”
Kendra looked down at the floor. “This is strange.”
“Your condo getting tossed? I guess ‘strange’ is one way of looking at it.”
She walked from her living room to the front door. “No, I mean… That dolly with the files was heavy. The wheels would have made impressions on all the papers and photos on the floor between the living room and foyer. But I don’t see a single mark.”
He stared at the floor. “Neither do I. You think they moved the cart out and trashed your place afterward?”
“Why would they do that? It doesn’t make sense.” Kendra opened her door and walked down the hallway. Perry joined her. She pointed to the floor, where the fine carpet nap showed the path taken by the dolly’s twin wheels. “It was rolled to the elevator.”
“Yes. Then out the building’s front door?”
She bit her lip. “There’s a security camera in the main lobby. Why go that way when there are two other exits where it’s easier to slip out unnoticed?”
“You said the dolly was heavy.”
“Still not that difficult to roll down a step at a time. Our burglar seems too thorough to risk going out the front door.”
“You never know. We’ll look at the security cam footage. I’ll talk to the building manager.”
Something else occurred to Kendra. “Follow me.”
“Are we going to the manager’s office?”
“No.”
Kendra led him into the elevator and punched the second-floor button. In less than a minute, she leaned out the door and looked down the hallway. “This is our stop.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
They followed the wheel marks on the carpet until they ended in front of a condo door.
“That’s a surprise,” he said.
“Not really.” She knocked on the door.
After a moment, Olivia answered. “Good morning, Kendra.” She cocked her head, obviously picking up Perry’s breathing. “Who’s your friend?”
“Detective Raymond Perry, SDPD,” he replied.
“Oooh.” She was still smiling. “Am I under arrest?”
“Only if you stole a dolly cart of files from my condo this morning,” Kendra said.
“Guilty as charged.” Olivia swung the door open wide to reveal the dolly and three boxes of files, with folders stacked all over the large wraparound desk that dominated the condo’s living room area. A muscular young man stood in front of the desk, feeding a sheaf of papers into a scanner. “Though I don’t think the charges will stick,” Olivia said. “I have a distinct recollection that you wanted these to be scanned.”
“Thank God,” Kendra said, rushing toward the file boxes. “They’re all here!”
