Night Watch

9

London

Nine Years Earlier

KENDRA POSITIONED THE OVERSIZED sport sunglasses over her face as she rounded the corner. It was past 9 P.M., but the sidewalks were still crowded with holiday shoppers. There was a distinct energy at this time of year; the groups were bigger and much more varied in ages. She could hear the voices of children, thirtysomethings, and the elderly walking together in numbers she seldom heard at any other time of year. It was nice…

She tightened the sweep of her cane as the crowd thickened. She was trembling, she realized. Not from the cold, though there was a stiff breeze in the air, but from the realization that her life might be about to change.

Might. Remember that word. In spite of what anyone had told her, she must not let herself fly too high.

Because, in just a few minutes, for the first time in her life, she might be going to see.

She hoped.

Hoping was okay, it was in the same category as that “might” word. It wasn’t taking miracles for granted.

She knew it wasn’t supposed to happen this way. She had an appointment the next morning at St. Bartholomew’s Hospital, where Dr. Waldridge, her mother, and dozens of researchers would witness the removal of the bandages she’d worn since her procedure five weeks before.

She’d spent countless hours imagining what that moment would be like; Dr. Waldridge would certainly be calm and reassuring as he removed the bandages and waxed eye patches, and her mother’s voice would be dripping with tension, terrified that a failure might crush her daughter’s spirit.

If it was a success, there would be cheers and champagne; for failure, there would only be apologies and empty words of encouragement. Either way, Kendra would be forced to mask what she felt to give everyone around her what they needed from her.

No thanks.

She’d decided to make the story her own. Maybe she was being selfish, but she had been the one living in the dark all these years. She’d earned the right to do this alone on her own terms.

Two blocks and a right turn later, she found herself right where she wanted to be.

Piccadilly Circus.

She’d visited the area several times during her stay in London and she enjoyed the gasps and squeals of delight it elicited from tourists and children seeing it for the first time. It was the junction of several streets in the heart of this large shopping and entertainment district, and from what she understood, it’s already-spectacular lighting was even more breathtaking with the seasonal decorations.

Not a bad place to take her first steps into a new world.

She stopped in the pedestrian plaza and felt the cool breeze on her face. She took a deep breath. Engine exhaust, perfume, and baked goods from a nearby market.

It was noisy. Cars and buses roared by on the crisscrossing streets that surrounded her, shoppers talked and laughed, and a brass quartet played Christmas carols nearby.

She stood motionless for a long moment. A moment which became one full minute, then five.

What in the hell was she waiting for?

It was time to rip off the Band-Aid. So to speak.

Are you ready for me, world?

Because I’m ready for you.

She pulled off her large sunglasses and reached toward the bandages glued between her forehead and upper cheekbones. She tugged, the bandages barely moved. Hmm. The hospital staff probably had a solution that would dissolve the adhesive. This wasn’t going to be easy.

She peeled back the bandages, feeling her skin stretch and pull. She felt no pain, just an unbearable excitement that sent her heart leaping into her throat.

Was she really doing this?

The bandages fluttered to the sidewalk. She peeled off the thick pads that covered her eye sockets.

She held her breath.

There was… something.

Her eyes were still closed, but there was a sensation she’d never experienced.

Was this… light?

She opened her eyes.

She gasped.

In that instant, she stood in another world.

No words. No words to describe what she was suddenly experiencing. There was simply no frame of reference, nothing she could possibly compare this with.

The sounds were the same, but they were now paired with these… things.

Lights. Colors. People.

Oh, the people…

Did noses really look like that? And those ears…

So this is how everyone saw each other. How arbitrary it was that some would be considered more attractive than any others… At this moment, they all looked beautiful to her.

One of them was staring at her. A woman with shoulder-length hair whose face was twisted in what Kendra realized was a smile. Could this person see the amazement, the wonder, the awe?

“Kendra, baby,” the woman whispered.

Kendra gasped. It must be… For the first time in her life, she was looking at the face she’d wanted to see more than any other.

“Mom?”

The woman’s head bobbed up and down. “You can see?”

“Yes.”

“Everything?”

“I… think so.”

Her mother laughed even as tears rolled down her cheeks. She took Kendra in her arms and hugged her.

Kendra squeezed her tight. “You followed me?”

“I had a feeling. I know my little girl.” She laughed shakily. “And you know me. I had to keep my distance. I knew you’d realize it was me if I didn’t.”

“I’m sorry, Mom.”

“No, don’t be. As I said, I know how you think. I-I just needed to be here.”

“I’m glad you are.” Kendra spun around and faced the multicolored lights. She wanted to reach out, embrace them all. She was brimming with wild exhilaration. She felt as if she were part of those brilliant lights, that they were shining out of her. “You have to tell me what those colors are. It’s incredible. I just want to soak in every detail.”

“There’s so much more to see… The Grand Canyon, the Mediterranean Sea at sunrise, the canals of Venice…”

“I want to see it all. Every single bit of it. Tonight!”

Her mother laughed. “Soon. First there’s someone else you need to see. Someone who deserves to be here with you.”

Kendra nodded. “I know.”

“Should you call him, or should I?”

“I’ll do it.” Kendra pulled her phone from her pocket. She started to tap out the number, but realized that the illuminated buttons were disorienting her. She closed her eyes to finish entering the digits.

He answered on the first ring. “Hello.”

Kendra could barely contain the joy in her voice. “Dr. Waldridge… It’s me, Kendra. Sorry to bother you, but I really think you should get yourself here to Piccadilly Circus…”

Old Town San Diego

Present Day

Lynch held his phone between him and Kendra on a quiet side street on the bustling tourist and entertainment area of Old Town. He had Rye on speaker, and they had just given him the info on Dr. Porter Shaw and his involvement in the Night Watch Project.

“Night Watch,” Rye said. “Interesting.”

“How so?” Lynch asked.

“I’ve started asking around about Waldridge, and the Night Watch Project has been mentioned a few times. But when I try to dig in about it, people tend to clam up fast.”

“Do they not know or do they just not want to talk?” Kendra asked.

“Probably both, depending on the person with whom I’m talking. Don’t worry. I already have an idea how to find out what’s going on there. I promise I won’t leave London until I find out.”

“Keep us posted,” Lynch said. “We’ll check in when we hear more.”

He cut the connection and looked at Kendra. “I have faith in him. If anyone can figure out what’s going on there, it’s Rye.”

“I believe you.”

Lynch gestured for her to follow him around the corner, where they stood in front of a bar emblazoned with the words CAFÉ COYOTE high on a neon sign.

Kendra shook her head. “I can’t believe you took me to another bar. Did you suddenly acquire a taste for bad karaoke?”

“You don’t know bad karaoke. You haven’t heard me try to sing yet.”

“Ooh, now I’m intrigued. What’s your pleasure? ‘New York, New York’? Or maybe ‘The Gambler’?”

“That would take a lot more tequila shots than this place could possibly stock.”

“Oh, I’d gladly make a run to the liquor wholesaler to make it happen.”

“I bet you would. It’ll have to wait for another night. This isn’t a karaoke bar.” Lynch gestured for Kendra to precede him through the open door.

She entered to find herself in a rowdy bar largely populated by college-age patrons. In addition to a long bar, there was a dozen or so high-top cocktail tables, four dartboards, and a small stage elevated only a few inches above the rest of the floor. The stage held a guitar and keyboard duo of male vocalists who were covering Hall & Oates’ “You Make My Dreams Come True.”

“See?” Lynch said. “No karaoke.”

“Well, this is a close cousin. But these guys are pretty good.” She turned to Lynch. “So what lead are we following here?”

“No lead. No lead at all.”

She frowned. “Then why the hell are we here?”

“To allow you to decompress for a bit.”

She turned toward the door. “I don’t have time for this.”

He grabbed her arm. “Make time. You need it.” He met her eyes. “I’ve watched you since this began, and you’re at the point where you’re pulled taut and ready to break. Waldridge means too much to you. You’re losing perspective.” He gave a half shrug. “Added to the fact that it bothers the hell out of me to see you like this.”

“I’m fine. I’m not losing-” She stopped. She didn’t like to admit it, but she couldn’t lie about being on edge. At the FBI office today, she’d had trouble keeping it together. She asked sarcastically, “You think drinks at an Old Town bar are what I need to decompress?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then explain to me why we’re here.”

“For some music therapy.”

She pointed to the stage. “And you think listening to these guys will give me what I need?”

“Actually, no. The guitarist is a friend of mine, but I seriously doubt his talents have the rehabilitative power to soothe your nerves and restore a sense of calm and focus to your psyche.”

“You have a lot of friends in this town, you know that?”

“I can’t help it if I’m a popular guy. It’s the cross I bear.”

“So who is this music-therapy wizard you have in mind?”

“You.”

Her eyes widened as she stepped closer to him. “Are you crazy? You want me to practice music therapy on myself?”

“You do it all the time. I’ve seen it.”

“You’ve seen nothing of the sort.”

“Of course I have. Every time I’ve seen you with one of your clients. You come away invigorated, but at the same time a sense of calm comes over you. And that razor-sharp focus of yours is never more acute than it is after one of your sessions. Do you deny it?”

Kendra thought for a moment. She couldn’t deny it, but she hadn’t realized that Lynch had studied that aspect of her life enough to know that basic and very intimate force that drove her. But she should have realized it; anyone as controlling as Lynch would probe and watch until he did know everything. “Okay, music has always been a big part of my life. When I couldn’t see, it was one way I could connect with anyone else. It was one experience I could share completely.” She suddenly felt uncomfortable. “But you make it sound like I’m doing my sessions for myself instead of my clients.”

“Of course not. I know you’re doing it for them,” he said quietly. “It’s just a fortunate side benefit that it also helps you.”

“And just how am I supposed to treat myself here?”

To Kendra’s surprise, Lynch suddenly hopped onto the small stage. He whispered to the guitarist, who nodded. Lynch stepped back toward Kendra.

“What the hell did you just do?” she said with ice in her voice.

Lynch smiled, but didn’t answer.

The musicians finished their song, and the guitarist spoke to the crowd. “Okay, we’re going to have a smoke break, but while we’re gone, we’ll leave you in some very capable hands. Be back in a few.”

He stepped off the stage, handed Kendra his acoustic guitar, and clasped hands with Lynch. She watched in amazement as the musicians disappeared into a back hallway.

She held up the guitar. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“What you always do. Play it. Connect.”

“You play it.”

“This is how you used to earn your living, wasn’t it? Playing clubs during your so-called wild days?”

“I wouldn’t call that a living. Scraping by is more like it,”

“Okay, then scrape on up to that stage. Your public is waiting.”

Kendra glanced around the crowded bar, where several patrons were indeed looking at her. It still would have been a simple matter to place the guitar on its stand next to the stage microphone and walk away.

She turned back. Lynch was wearing a borderline-cheesy, self-satisfied smile. The bastard was practically daring her to do it.

Fine.

She gripped the guitar and stepped behind the microphone. She leaned toward the mike to make an introduction, but she stopped.

Not necessary. The music would speak for itself.

She leaned back and strummed the guitar, feeling the pull of the strings beneath her fingers. Nice.

She closed her eyes, as she often did while playing any musical instrument she’d mastered during her years in the dark. She played a few chords, still not knowing what song she’d play. She had an instinct for what chord progressions would work in this bar, on this night, and she knew the right song would soon follow.

That song was James Taylor’s “Fire and Rain.”

She wasn’t sure she’d actually sing it, but again, it felt right. She let herself feel the words and music, allowing them to become extensions of her as her voice warmed to the soulful lyrics.

When she finished, she opened her eyes. Most of the bar’s patrons were now staring at her, having put their beers, darts, and conversations on hold.

They erupted into cheers and wild applause. She merely nodded her appreciation, put her guitar down, and left the stage. The crowd was still applauding as Lynch mouthed a single word.

“Wow.”

She walked toward him and stopped just inches away.

A long moment of silence.

She kissed him squarely on the mouth.

Again, not something she’d planned. It just felt right.

He smiled. “What was that for?”

“For knowing what I need. Before I even knew it myself.”

He nodded. “My pleasure. You want to get out of here?”

“Yes.”

They moved through the bar and stepped out onto the street, which had become busier in the short time they were inside.

“Are you okay?” Lynch asked. “You seem a little…”

“Buzzed?” Kendra finished for him.

“I was going to say woozy.”

“Definitely buzzed. And I mean in the best possible way. It felt wonderful.” And all the jagged edges of anxiety that had been lacerating her were magically smoothed away. She knew it was temporary, but she’d take it. “I’ve never had any desire to perform in front of people again. And it may be years before I do it again. But right now, it’s just what I needed to-”

She froze.

“What is it?” Lynch asked.

“Keep walking. Act normal.”

His brows rose. “That’s exactly what I was doing before you stopped dead in your tracks.”

They continued down the busy sidewalk.

“She’s here,” Kendra said in a low voice.

“Who?”

“Motorcycle woman. I think she followed us into the bar.”

“Did you see her?”

“No. But I’m willing to bet she’s following us right now. Don’t look back.”

“That’s probably the most insulting thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Sorry.”

“What makes you think she’s here?”

Kendra nodded toward the strip of fine dirt running between the sidewalk and the street. “Those damn Fusion Lei riding boots again. I just spotted a relatively undisturbed footprint heading in the direction of the bar.”

“Other people wear those boots, right?”

“Of course. But they’re rare enough that I’m willing to bet that it’s more than just a coincidence. She’s here.”

Lynch thought for a moment. “Okay. I want you to walk four blocks down, just past the Western wear store. Then take a left and keep walking.”

“And what exactly will you be doing?”

“I’ll be nearby. Right now I’ll duck into this restaurant and out through the back. Make a big show of saying good-bye to me.”

“How do I do that?”

He kissed her. “That’s how. See you around the corner.”

She was so surprised by the gesture that she could only summon a limp wave as he ducked into the restaurant and moved toward the back.

She continued down the street. Motorcycle woman, whoever the hell she was, had saved her from those two thugs in the building. Why not turn around and confront her? Difficult, she decided, because the woman could be tailing her from blocks behind. She’d been studying reflections in the shop windows and knew the no one in the immediate vicinity was following her.

Kendra turned, walked past the Western wear store and turned left as instructed. She stole a glance back as she made the turn. There were several people on the sidewalk some distance away, among them at least two females with roughly the same body type as Motorcycle woman.

What in the hell did she want?

If, indeed, one of those women was her. She hadn’t been able to catch a look at the shoes.

Keep walking. Stay alert. Don’t look back.

Where the hell was Lynch? If he was somewhere on this street, he was damned good. She sure couldn’t spot him.

She walked an entire block, then another. Did Lynch expect her to just keep walking until she reached the-

A sharp yell behind her!

Kendra whirled around. Lynch was there, and he had a woman in a hold.

She had short dark hair in a pixie cut and wore jeans and a long black coat that looked somewhat like a duster. And Fusion Lei riding boots.

She used one of those boots to kick backward and strike Lynch’s knee. He winced in pain, and she seized the opportunity to drop out of his grip. She spun around and pummeled him with half a dozen lightning blows to his kidneys. He was obviously in agony, but he snapped his hands over her wrists and twisted her around with her own left arm pulled taut over her throat.

The woman was still struggling as Kendra ran toward them. “Enough,” Lynch said, gritting his teeth. “Keep it up, and I promise you’ll be unconscious in seconds.”

She muttered something Kendra couldn’t understand, but was probably obscene.

Kendra studied the woman. “It’s definitely her. Same body type, exact same boots with a light blue scuff mark on the right heel.”

Lynch readjusted his grip on the woman. “It feels like there’s a wallet of some kind on the left inside pocket of her coat. Pull it out.”

Kendra carefully reached inside the coat and pulled out a thin leather wallet. She opened it and studied the ID card behind a plastic window. “It’s a private investigator’s license.”

Lynch loosened his grip. “A private detective?”

Kendra showed him the license. “Her name is Jessie Mercado. She’s from L.A.”

The woman finally spoke through set teeth. “And I saved your ass yesterday. Don’t leave that part out.” She jerked her head back at Lynch. “Does this ape follow your commands? If so, please tell him to let me go.”

Kendra closed the wallet and shrugged. “Lynch, let go of her.”

Jessie Mercado stepped away from Lynch and rubbed her shoulder as she glared at him. “Just so that you know, I could have put you down. I was going easy on you.”

“Got it.” He placed his hand on his side. “I’ll be pissing blood for days, but you were going easy on me.”

Jessie was now rubbing her arm. She was a pretty woman of medium height, about thirty, slender, with tanned skin, huge dark eyes, and delicate features that belied the obvious toughness in her attitude and bearing. She said grudgingly, “Well, I think you dislocated my shoulder, so I guess we’re even.”

“Not really,” Kendra said. “Why are you following me?”

“How do you know I was?” Jessie shrugged. “You’re nothing to me.”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“Believe me, don’t believe me, I don’t really care.” She hesitated. “I’m on a case for a client.”

“What client?” Lynch asked.

“Have you ever heard of a thing called professional confidentiality?”

“Heard of it. I don’t give a damn about it,” Kendra said. “I need answers. A friend of mine is missing. He’s my only priority.”

“Well, that’s something we have in common.” She met her eyes. “Because my client happens to be Dr. Charles Waldridge. He’s my priority, too.”

Kendra wondered if her face was showing the shock she felt. “Waldridge hired you?”

Jessie nodded.

“Where is he?”

Jessie grimaced. “I wish I knew.”

“How could he be your client if you don’t-”

“I met him the day he disappeared. A satisfied former client referred him to me. He hired me on the spot.”

“Hired you for what?”

She shook her head. “Confidential. He swore me to secrecy. That’s why I didn’t come forward as soon as he disappeared.”

“Something’s happened to him,” Lynch said, “May I say your priorities are a little screwed-up? You might hold information that can save his life.”

She stiffened defensively. “Don’t think I haven’t been weighing that.”

“Must have been torture for you,” Lynch said caustically. “How about if I put my thumb on the scale by taking you to the police?”

“Just try it,” she said softly.

“Hey,” Kendra said. “Let’s just table this for a minute. I’m tired of watching the two of you bristle at each other. Let’s talk about why you’re following me.”

Jessie thought for a moment. “I guess that we can talk about.” She glanced around. “But not here.”

“Where?” Kendra demanded.

She smiled faintly. “I’d invite you to my office, but it’s a bit far to L.A.”

“No problem. I happen to have an office nearby. It’s at-”

“I know where it is. I’ve been there.” Jessie reached out and snatched her license from Kendra’s hand. “I’ll meet you there in fifteen minutes.”

“How do we know you’ll show?” Kendra asked.

Jessie shrugged. “How do I know you won’t have a squad car there waiting to take me in for questioning? I guess we’ll just have to trust each other.” She gave a mock shiver. “What a truly bizarre thought.”

FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, Kendra and Lynch drove into the office parking lot to find Jessie standing next to her motorcycle, checking her e-mail.

“Anything interesting?” Kendra asked.

“Like an e-mail from Dr. Waldridge? Afraid not. But three different companies want to sell me penis-enlargement tools.” Jessie put away her phone. “It comes with owning a motorcycle. I’ll read those later.”

Kendra smiled. Lynch seemed annoyed with her, but she was enjoying Jessie’s dry sense of humor.

Kendra led her and Lynch to her office studio, where she and Lynch had teleconferenced with Rye only the day before.

Jessie looked around with interest at the musical instruments. “Nice job with the song at the bar, by the way. You pretty much nailed it.”

“You were there?” Lynch asked.

“She was standing near the dartboards,” Kendra said. “I couldn’t see her boots; otherwise, I would have ID’d her in a second.”

Jessie rolled her eyes. “The boots. Is that how you made me?”

“They leave a very distinctive footprint. In the snow up in Big Bear, in the fine dirt outside the bar.”

“Freaky. I guess the stories about you are true.”

“Depends on where the stories came from.”

“True-crime blogs, police discussion boards, places like that.”

“Any special reason why you’ve been reading up on me?”

“Homework.”

Kendra waited for her to say more, but Jessie was silent, perusing the music-themed laminated posters on the wall.

“Waldridge hired you to follow me?” Kendra finally asked.

“No. He didn’t even mention you to me.”

“Then why the hell have you been on my tail?”

“For the record, I’ve been doing more with my time than just following you. Remember, I found my way to Big Bear before you did.”

Lynch crossed his arms and leaned against the piano. “Yes, and you led us quite a chase.”

“Not much of a chase. I’m guessing that the San Bernardino County PD stopped you long before you even got off the mountain.”

Lynch nodded. “You guessed right. But what brought you up there in the first place?”

“The same thing that brought you. The corpse in the snow, Dr. Porter Shaw.”

Kendra and Lynch exchanged a glance.

“You knew who he was?” Kendra asked.

“Not immediately. When did you figure it out?”

“A few hours ago. You?”

“Last night. I ran the pictures I took of the body against photos of Waldridge’s known associates that I grabbed off the Web. A facial-recognition program did most of the work.”

“Smart,” Kendra said. “The FBI did something similar.”

“I just happened to do it faster. Not that I’m bragging or anything.”

“Oh, of course not,” Lynch said. “Are you going to help us out, or did you just come here to jerk our chains.”

Jessie smiled. “Chain-jerking does have its appeal, but no. You asked why I’m following you. You were one of the last people to see Waldridge, and I knew you were on the case.”

“How did you know?” Kendra asked.

“Santa Monica PD. I have friends on the inside over there. I heard you were getting FBI help, which is a hell of lot more than I’ve been getting. Every time I got stalled, I decided to see what you were doing.”

“Why did Waldridge hire you?”

Jessie didn’t answer.

“I have to know.”

“Confidential territory again,” she said quietly. “I have an obligation.”

“Bullshit. Your obligation is keeping your client alive.”

Jessie hesitated, thinking.

“Please,” Kendra said. “Tell us. I only want to keep him alive.”

Jessie stared ruefully at Kendra. “I hope I don’t regret this.”

“Regret what? Trusting me?”

Jessie nodded. “I’m not big on trust.”

“Neither am I. But there are times when you have to take the chance. You won’t regret it,” Kendra said. “If your friends at the Santa Monica PD are keeping you in the loop, then you know I’ve done more to try to find Waldridge than anyone.”

“I do know that.”

“Then what’s the problem? I guarantee you, Waldridge would want me to have every bit of information that might help me find him.”

Jessie dropped down on a chair. “Okay, I’ll tell you what I know, but I need you to reciprocate. Deal?”

“Sure,” Kendra said.

Jessie glanced at Lynch. “I know that he won’t be cooperative. From what I’ve been able to gather about him, I don’t know if I’d want to deal with him anyway.”

“Very wise,” Lynch said. “But do be aware that I don’t like Kendra’s being lied to. It tends to upset me.”

Jessie shrugged, and her gaze shifted back to Kendra. “I haven’t found out much. I’m not sure what good it will do you.”

“It has to be better than stumbling around in the dark,” Lynch said.

“Sounds exactly like what I’ve been doing,” Jessie said. “Anyway, I met Waldridge when he came to my office in West L.A. He was on edge. There was a certain… desperation.”

Kendra sat down across from her. “About what?”

“He was concerned about a colleague of his.”

“Shaw?”

“No. Another man. His name is Hayden Biers. Waldridge told me that this guy had come to L.A. from England late last month. They’d been in touch, but Biers had suddenly dropped off the face of the Earth.”

“Sounds familiar,” Kendra said. “What did Waldridge tell you about him?”

“He’s a medical doctor. More into research than treating patients.”

“Also familiar,” Lynch said. “But why was he in L.A.?”

“Waldridge couldn’t say.”

“Couldn’t or wouldn’t?”

Jessie’s lips twisted. “Funny you should ask that. For someone who was so obviously concerned for his colleague, he was extremely cagey. I had to pry information out of him.”

“I feel your pain,” Kendra said. “I went through the exact same thing when I saw him that night. But he didn’t tell me about this at all.”

“He was extremely concerned about confidentiality at all costs. His words. That’s why I haven’t talked to anyone about it.”

“So what did he tell you?”

“He gave me an address down in Redondo Beach. Biers had been renting a furnished house there month to month. Waldridge went there as soon as he hit town, but there was no sign of Biers.”

“Did you go there?” Lynch asked.

She was clearly annoyed at his question. “Uh, yeah. I am a real private investigator. No sign of a struggle. There were some clothes and a few things in the fridge, but that was about it. So I slipped in a couple webcams and moved on.”

“Any local contacts?” Lynch asked.

“None that Waldridge knew of.”

“And he didn’t give you any clue why Biers might have come from England to L.A.?”

“Just some B.S. about him having a high-stress job and needing to get away from it all. I didn’t buy it, and I even called him on it. But Waldridge wouldn’t tell me any more.”

“What was Biers’s job? Did he tell you that?

“Only in the most general terms. I had to dig around myself to find out, and it wasn’t easy. But you’ll be interested in this, though.”

Kendra leaned forward. “Let me guess. He was involved in the Night Watch Project.”

Jessie looked at her in surprise. “You got it. Looks like someone else has been doing her homework.”

“It’s a common thread between these three men. And now one is dead, and the other two are missing.”

“Did Waldridge tell you anything else?” Lynch asked.

“Not much. I got Biers’s cell-phone number, but there’s been no activity on the line since he disappeared.”

“How do you know?” Kendra asked.

“The next morning, when Waldridge disappeared, I’d taken his money to find his associate, so it wasn’t a stretch to figure there was a connection between what happened to those two guys. Biers’s trail stalled pretty quickly, so I began to look into Waldridge’s case. That’s when I found out that you were on it. I tracked him back to Big Bear, and-”

“How?” Lynch asked.

She gave him another annoyed look. “Again, I’m a licensed private investigator. I know how to do my job. But if you must know, he paid me using a prepaid Visa credit card, so I had the number. I have credit-agency contacts, too. He’d used the card a few times in Big Bear. I went up there and asked around. It wasn’t too hard to find the house that Shaw rented.”

“Why a prepaid card?” Kendra asked. “Why not his own?”

Jessie shrugged. “He was visiting from England. Some people like to use those in lieu of traveler’s checks. Only later did I think that he was trying to avoid being tracked.”

“Like you tracked him?”

“Exactly. If that’s what he was trying to do, he should have hired me to help him stay invisible. I’m pretty good at that. Anyway, I found Shaw’s body, just a few minutes before you came along that night. I tried to hide, but my damned footprints in the snow made that impossible.”

“When did you start following me?” Kendra asked.

“The next day. I knew you were getting FBI help that I couldn’t tap, so I started following you to see where it led. Good thing because that’s why I was there when those thugs tried to bottle you up and cart you away.”

“You have no idea who those men were?”

“No idea. They came out of their van wearing those ski masks.” She mockingly inclined her head. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Kendra smiled. “Thank you.”

“You must have seen the vehicle they were driving,” Lynch said. “You should have reported it to the police.”

“I put a tracker on their van on my way in, but they must have found it and given it a toss.”

“Plates?” Lynch asked.

“Stolen. They were pros, whoever they were. I’m sure they ditched the vehicle within minutes.”

“Probably,” he murmured.

“So what did you find out today?” Jessie asked.

“Your crackerjack sources didn’t tell you?” Lynch asked mockingly.

“There’s a bit of a time lag. The FBI has been pretty good about keeping Santa Monica PD posted on the status of the investigation, but they aren’t always timely. Find out anything interesting?”

Kendra turned to Lynch. “I want to tell her.”

“Your choice. This is your show.”

Kendra turned back to Jessie. Everything she’d told them lined up with the truth as they knew it. She found herself wanting to trust her.

“First things first,” Kendra said. “How long have you been following me today?”

“Since an hour or so ago, when you left the FBI field office.”

“Okay. We’ll start there.” Kendra told her about Waldridge’s appearance on the security video and their visit to the Baldwin Hills Walmart store.

Jessie was silent for a long moment. “Well, at least we know Waldridge is alive, or he was at that time.”

Kendra nodded. “We just need to find him.”

Jessie’s brow wrinkled in thought. “Maybe it’s just a matter of drawing him out.”

“That’s assuming he has his freedom. Someone was sure keeping close tabs on him at the store.”

“I’d like a frame grab of the person you saw watching him.”

“We can get you that.”

“Good.” Jessie hesitated, looking between Kendra and Lynch as if something had suddenly occurred to her. “Just out of curiosity, how much do you know about me?”

Kendra shrugged. “What could we know? Only what you’ve told us.”

“That’s not really true, is it?”

“What do you mean?”

Jessie got to her feet. Her entire body language spoke of wariness and defensiveness. “I told you I’ve done my research on you. If what I’ve read is true, I bet you knew quite a bit about me even before today.”

“I may have picked up a few things.”

“Like?”

She might as well tell her. In spite of Jessie’s toughness and wariness, that defensive attitude reflected a certain vulnerability. If she thought Kendra was hiding anything, it might get in the way. “I did think you were ex-military from your attack stance the other day, and now I’m sure of it.”

Lynch painfully touched his side. “My kidneys are also sure of it.”

Kendra stood up and slowly walked around Jessie. “You were in Afghanistan. Your father was also in the military. Your family moved with him, including quite a bit of your childhood in Western Europe. You were probably born in Bakersfield, where you spent your early years.”

Jessie smiled. “Tehachapi. About forty miles southeast of Bakersfield.”

“And I was doing so well. At least I think I was.”

“You definitely were. And still are. Anything else?”

“You’re a marathoner. You’ve done the Bay to Breakers run in San Francisco and the Honolulu Marathon. But for exercise you usually just go to Gold’s Gym, I’m guessing the one in Venice.”

Jessie nodded. “Wow. If I knew you better, I’d high-five you right now. And I usually think high fives are idiotic.”

“Then I take that as a compliment. Oh, you vacationed in Fiji a few years ago.”

Jessie gave a low whistle.

“And you or someone you know has been in Bermuda fairly recently.”

“My then-boyfriend about eight months ago.”

“It was clearly an amicable breakup.”

Jessie nodded in amazement. “Holy shit.”

Lynch leaned back and crossed his arms. “I keep waiting for this to get old, but it never does.”

Jessie bit her lip. “I can’t see it getting old, but something about this is really pissing me off.”

“You asked for it,” Kendra said.

“You’re right, I did. I guess I’m just uncomfortable being such an open book.”

“You aren’t,” Lynch said. “At least not to anybody except her.”

She was staring directly into Kendra’s eyes. “I consider myself a fairly private person. I think I’d feel better if you told me how you know all this.”

“You won’t feel better,” Lynch said. “But at least you won’t drive yourself crazy all night trying to figure it out. Trust me, I’ve been there.”

“As I said, I have trouble trusting anyone but myself.” Jessie stepped closer to Kendra. “How about where I’m from, and the places I’ve lived?”

“Linguistics.”

“You’re a linguist, too?”

“Amateur. When you’re denied the opportunity to form an impression of people by looking at them, how they speak becomes very important. After your kind rescue the other day, I told Lynch I could hear a Central Valley twang in your voice. Add in some subtle continental Europe vowel suppressions, and you have someone who spent a lot of time overseas in their younger years.”

“I didn’t have to be a military brat, though. What if one of my parents worked for an international company that moved them around a lot?”

“True, and that was certainly possible. But your fighting style made me think you had a military background, which significantly raised the chances that one of your parents had served.”

“But how did you know about Afghanistan?”

Kendra grabbed Jessie’s wrist and pushed up her sleeve. “You have a tan line here. You often wear a bracelet that’s fairly representative of Afghan tribal jewelry with beads and little bells. I’m thinking you bought that there.”

Jessie nodded. “Chicken Street in Kabul. I did two tours in Afghanistan.”

“That’s impressive.”

“Is it? I guess some people would call it that. What about my marathons?”

“I saw your motorcycle, remember? You have a Bay to Breakers water bottle tethered to your drink holder and a Honolulu Marathon license-plate frame. I also saw a Gold’s Gym bar-code tag on your key ring. It was easy to spot because I have one on mine. I guessed the Venice location because it’s close to the mailing address on your private investigator’s license. I’ve meant to go there every time I’ve attended symposiums at UCLA.” She made a face. “Somehow, I’ve always found an excuse not to go.”

“Probably the same excuses I often seem to find.” Jessie thought for a moment. “My key ring also told you about Fiji, didn’t it?”

“Hard to miss with that red-and-yellow tiki-mask pendant. It shows a lot of wear, so it’s something you’ve probably been carrying for years.”

“Wait one minute. How the hell did you recognize that mask as Fijian? You’ve only had your sight for what, ten years?”

“Nine.”

“Most people go their whole lives without being able to recognize things like that.”

“Most people have probably seen that mask dozens of times in different places. They just don’t remember. Sight is such a gift to me that I try to take nothing for granted.”

“I got that. But there’s nothing to see on me or my motorcycle that could tell you that I or someone I know has been to Bermuda.”

“You’re right, but there is something to smell. You’re wearing a perfume called Easter Lily. It’s very distinctive, but the only time I’ve smelled it on anyone is when they or a loved one brought it back from Bermuda themselves. I haven’t investigated this, but my guess is that you only buy it there.”

“Which is what my ex-boyfriend did. He bought it for me at the perfumery.”

“The fact that you’re still wearing it tells me that it wasn’t an unpleasant breakup. Otherwise, that bottle would probably be buried in a landfill by now.”

“Right again.”

“Feeling less violated now?”

“Oh, no.” She deadpanned, “More violated than ever.”

“Like I said, a normal reaction,” Lynch said.

“And that remark makes me feel even more violated. People don’t usually accuse me of being normal.”

“This really isn’t your day, is it?”

Kendra frowned. “All my parlor tricks aren’t worth a damn if they don’t help to get Waldridge back.”

“We’ll find him,” Lynch said softly. “We got closer today.”

“Not close enough.” She turned to face him. “All roads lead to Night Watch. It’s the one thing these three medical researchers had in common.”

Jessie nodded. “Agreed. I haven’t been able to find out much about the Night Watch Project. There was a fair amount written about it when you got your sight, both in scientific literature and the mainstream media. But here’s been almost nothing in the last few years.”

“We found that out,” Lynch said. “We have someone in England working on it.”

“Someone good?”

“The best.” Lynch checked his phone. “I’ll text him about what you’ve told us concerning Hayden Biers. If you can give me his cell-phone number and any other info Waldridge provided you about him, it may help.”

“It’s not much, but I’ll give you what I have.”

“Thank you. My contact information is now in your phone’s address book. Adam Lynch.”

“What do you mean?” she asked warily.

“Check your phone.”

Jessie fished her phone out of her pocket and scrolled through her contacts. “Cute. Now that’s a violation. This is what you’ve been doing with your phone since we’ve been here… Hacking into mine?”

“Hacking is a word with such unpleasant connotations. I was merely exchanging contact info. I have yours, and you have mine.”

“Uh-huh. My life is on this thing. What else did you grab?”

“Nothing else. I promise.”

She held down her phone’s power button. “I’m turning my phone off now. Our partnership is getting off to a rocky start.”

“A partnership?” Kendra repeated. “Is that what this is?”

Jessie shrugged. “Makes sense. We’re both working toward the same end. Waldridge is still my client. He paid me up front.”

“What happens when his retainer runs out?”

Jessie headed for the door. “We’ll see when that time comes. Until then, I’m on this case whether we work together or not.” She stopped and turned at the door. “It’s been… interesting.” She gazed at Kendra. “I think I can trust you, but you make me damn uneasy.” Her eyes shifted to Lynch. “And you’re definitely an unknown factor, but if we’re going to work together, I think I should be honest with you. I wasn’t telling the truth about being able to put you down this time. You were good. Very good. But now I’ve fought you, and I’ve learned you. Next time I’ll be able to take you down.”

She turned and left the studio.

After a long moment of silence, Kendra turned to Lynch. “What do you think?”

“Other than that she’s smart as a whip and fires on all cylinders? And the fact that I think there’s so much beneath that surface that it would take years to uncover it all?” He shrugged. “I’ll run a background check, but I’m inclined, in this case, to believe her.”

“So am I.” She smiled. “And there’s nothing wrong with hidden depths. Sometimes it shows character.”

“And sometime it hides land mines.” He smiled back at her. “You’re prejudiced because she saved your neck. That’s okay, I’m prejudiced, too. That neck has great value to me. I’ll just keep an eye out to make sure she doesn’t circle around and attack from the rear.”

Warmth. That damn charisma. It had come out of nowhere, and she was having trouble looking away from him.

But his smile was fading, and he was shaking his head. “Uh-uh, we’re doing too well.” He reached for his phone and started to punch in a number.

Relief. Disappointment. Frustration. Curiosity. “What are you doing?” Kendra asked.

“I’m sure it has a name and purpose other than the one that I’m cursing at the moment. Ah, yes, that’s it. I got a text from Rye while Jessie was here. He might have some news for us.”