Night Watch

3

ADAM LYNCH PICKED HER CALL UP on the first ring. “What a complete pleasure. Though I knew you’d call sooner or later, Kendra. I’m glad it turned out to be sooner.”

Kendra gripped her steering wheel harder. It had been two and a half hours since she’d left the hotel, and she’d spent most of the drive wondering if she was really going to make this call.

“Lynch, your smugness is actually radiating through the phone.”

Lynch let out a laugh that boomed through her car speakers. “No smugness. Just happy to hear from you. Is that such a surprise? What’s going on?”

She hesitated. “Something’s come up. I can… use your help.”

He paused so long that she thought the connection had dropped. “Lynch?”

“I’m still here. I’m just a little stunned. I’m the one who always has to ask you for help. I’m not quite sure how to deal with this.”

She mouthed a silent curse. Lynch wasn’t going to make it easy for her. They both knew there wasn’t anything Lynch couldn’t handle and manipulate to suit himself. He was a former FBI agent who now worked freelance for whatever government agency needed his unique abilities. She had teamed with him a few times recently, and she was now violating her own pledge to put some distance between them.

“You’ll find a way to deal, Lynch. The question is, are you even in the country right now?”

“It so happens I am. I just got back from Madrid, and I’m sitting here thinking about unpacking. Do you want to meet somewhere?”

“How about your place?”

“Sure, but if you don’t feel like driving up here, we could always-”

“I’m looking at your house right now. You wanna open the gate for me?”

“Seriously?”

Kendra looked up at Lynch’s beautiful two-story Tudor-style home in an exclusive neighborhood in northern San Diego County. “Yes, I was driving back from Santa Monica and thought I’d give it a try. I just pulled up. Turn off the motion sensor weaponry and let me in, okay?”

As if in response, the tall iron gates silently swung open.

She cut the phone connection and drove up the stone-tiled driveway. As always, the landscaping was garden-club beautiful, and the house’s beveled-glass windows twinkled in the late-afternoon sun. She parked in front of the garage. As she climbed out, Lynch stepped out onto the driveway.

“Miss me?” He hit her with his movie-star smile. He wore white cotton slacks and a blue shirt that brought out the intensity of his eyes. And, as usual, he was totally high-impact.

“Should I have?”

“I can but hope. Well, I’ve certainly missed you.”

She raised her brows.

“Stop being so skeptical. I think I’ve been very considerate giving you your space. But after all you’ve been through in the last year, you made it clear that you wanted to step back from the FBI, the police, and everything that reminded you of that part of your life.” He tapped his chest. “And that evidently included me.”

Not included. He was in a class by himself. Lynch managed to dominate both her thoughts and her responses when she was with him.

“Oh, I’m sure your bikini-model girlfriend kept you company.” Kendra looked up at the house. “Is she here now?”

“No. No, she’s not.”

Kendra studied him. Lynch had suddenly become guarded, which was totally out of character for him. “I see. Is there a story there?”

“Well… maybe. Ashley moved out of the country.”

Kendra’s eyes widened. “That’s quite a power over women you have. A few months with you, and they run screaming to distant lands.”

“Cute. She’s been working more and more in Europe, and it seemed whenever she was here, I was gone. Not a great recipe for a relationship. She lives in Rome now.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

He shrugged. “We just spent the weekend together in Marbella while I was over there. We still know how to have a good time together.”

Kendra rolled her eyes. “You know, I was almost feeling sorry for you.”

His lips turned up at the corners. “Oh, I wouldn’t want you to do that.”

“You don’t deserve it. Ashley is the one I feel sorry for.”

“I’m sorry you never got to meet her. You would have liked her.”

“I admired the catalogue swimsuit spreads, but I’m not sure it’s the same thing.”

“It’s not. She’s very sweet.”

“Sweet.” She tasted the word. “Ah, I’m sure that was the attraction.”

He tilted his head. “Did you come here to bust my chops about my ex-girlfriend? Somehow I don’t think so.”

“No, as enjoyable as that would be, I want you to go with me to the FBI field office.”

He stared at her for a long moment. “That may have been the last thing I expected to hear you say.”

“Yeah.” She made a sour face. “Didn’t sound right to me, either.”

He motioned toward the front door. “Come inside. I need to hear about this.”

She joined him on the curving walkway and followed him inside his home. As he closed the tall door behind her, she glanced around the dark wood fixtures and tile floors. It wasn’t her style, but she felt herself oddly comforted by her surroundings. Some of the tension drained from her shoulders.

“You like it here.” He smiled. “This is one place you’ve always been able to relax.”

“I can relax lots of places.”

“Not like you can here. You know I’m right.”

He was right, she realized, even if she didn’t like to admit it. “It would be pretty sad if I needed retractable bulletproof shutters, motion sensors, and security cameras to relax.”

“Why? That’s why I built this place.”

“One of the drawbacks of being a government agent for hire. You’ve made a lot of enemies over the years.”

“And you haven’t?”

“My enemies are either dead or in prison.”

“Lucky you. Still, you have to admit it’s nice to have an impenetrable barrier between you and the outside world.”

“I can’t let myself feel that way.”

“You already have. And there’s nothing wrong with that, especially after the things you’ve been through. You deserve some peace.”

Peace.

Kendra looked away. She wanted peace, but it wasn’t in the cards for her right now. Not while Waldridge might be in trouble.

“But that’s not happening with you.” Lynch’s gaze was searching her face. He leaned closer. “So I think you’d better tell me about it.”

She hesitated. This was why she had come, wasn’t it? But if she drew Lynch into this, it would be a commitment. A commitment she’d been avoiding for months. Because she never knew where that commitment would lead.

He was looking into her eyes. He said softly, “Tell me.”

Do it, before she changed her mind. She quickly told him about Waldridge, his cryptic statements, and his disappearance.

After she was done, Lynch placed his hands on her upper arms. “See that wasn’t so bad, was it? Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”

“Good.” She stepped back and slid out of her jacket.

Lynch’s eyes lit up. “Oh, yes. By all means, get comfortable.”

She gave him a squelching glance and showed him the jacket sleeve. “There was liquid on the floor of Waldridge’s hotel room. Something I couldn’t place. I sopped up some on my sleeve.”

“Did you tell the cops on the scene?”

“Yes, and they promised to run it by their crime lab. But I don’t think-”

“You don’t think they’ll give it high priority,” he finished for her. “And you’re probably right.”

She held up the jacket sleeve. “I want to take this to the FBI lab and have it tested there.”

“I’m surprised you’re not there now. Griffin would jump at the chance to get you back in the position of owing him.”

“He already thinks I owe him one for getting me in that crime scene to begin with. And I don’t want this to get lost in the crime-lab in-box. I want priority.”

“Priority over every active FBI investigation?”

“Exactly. I want it done today.”

He chuckled. “Of course you do. And you think I can make that happen?”

“I know you can. I’ve seen how fast things happen when you decide to send a text or two to D.C.”

“I’ve spent years building currency there. Currency that can evaporate if I tap it too much.”

“You’re the go-to guy for people at every government agency. You replenish your currency with each assignment you do for them.”

“Only if I’m successful.”

“Which you always are.”

“Almost always. That’s a big distinction. One that can sometimes mean the difference between life and death.”

“Are you trying to impress me? Because as much as bikini-model Ashley may swoon when you talk like that-”

“No, I wasn’t trying to impress you.” He thought for a second. “Well, maybe a little.”

“Another day I might have been impressed. A little. But right now, I’m just worried sick about my friend. I owe him, Lynch.”

Lynch nodded. “I know. Which is why I’m willing to spend every bit of professional capital I have to help you. Now that should both dazzle and impress you. Okay? We’ll leave right now.” He walked her toward the garage. “I’ll drive.”

Kendra stopped in front of a large painting in the hallway. It was a striking portrait of her, one that she and Lynch had actually watched being painted by a suspect in a previous case. Her eyes were closed in the painting, and her lips were slightly curled in a serene smile.

Kendra nodded toward the painting. “Maybe this is why Ashley left. Most women aren’t cool with their boyfriends’ decorating their houses with pictures of other women.”

“Ashley loved this painting. She joked about taking it with her.”

“So she could burn it?”

“No. She looked at it a lot. To her, it looked like you were enjoying something that only you could see.”

“Even though my eyes are closed?”

“Maybe because your eyes are closed. It was very perceptive of her, I thought. I had the exact same impression. I couldn’t get it out of my head after you and I saw it being done. That’s why I had to go back and buy it.”

“I still think you got taken.”

“No, I didn’t,” he said softly.

She turned to face him.

Lynch was looking at her, not the painting.

And she found she was caught and couldn’t tear her gaze away.

After a long moment, he gestured toward the garage door. “Shall we?”

Release.

She nodded. “By all means.” She hurriedly followed him to the garage.

FBI Regional Field Office San Diego

They made record time to the FBI’s gleaming, glass-fronted building in Sorrento Valley, home to much of San Diego’s high-tech industry. They rode in Lynch’s Ferrari, and for once Kendra resisted the urge to tease Lynch about his expensive, overcompensating-for-something wheels.

Her gesture didn’t go unnoticed. “No snide remarks about the car?” he said as he parked. “Now I know you’re upset. Either that, or you’ve finally learned to respect my ride.”

“There’s also the third option.”

“And that is?”

“I’m grateful for what you’re doing for me. So you get a onetime pass.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

“Although… the way you were stroking that gearstick makes me a little uncomfortable. It’s really kind of disturbing. I know you have feelings for this car, but should I leave you two alone for a little while?”

Lynch shook his head. “That’s the Kendra I know. The world still spins on its axis. So much for the free pass.”

“You got a pass by my not mentioning the two women you’ve had in this car in the past week. Young women, probably midtwenties. You liked one of them, the Latina woman, well enough to bring her back to your house.”

He shook his head. “Okay, I definitely need to know how you knew that.”

“Later.” She opened the door. “We have work to do.”

SPECIAL AGENT IN CHARGE MICHAEL GRIFFIN stood in the corridor outside the FBI crime lab, staring at the jacket in Kendra’s outstretched hand. “You’re kidding, right?”

“That’s what that LAPD detective asked. I thought you’d know better.” She shoved the jacket toward him. “It’s on the left sleeve. It could mean nothing or everything, but we won’t know until it’s tested.”

Griffin looked at her, then at Lynch. “You two are tough enough to take when I have to deal with you separately. How did you come to team up on this?”

Lynch scratched the back of his head. “You know, I’m still trying to figure that out myself. I think I was shanghaied.”

“Uh-huh. And what if I tell you that our lab is already on a weekslong backlog?”

Lynch crossed his arms and smiled. “I’d say you should expect a call. Soon.”

Griffin cursed. “The last time you said that, I got an extremely unpleasant phone call from the Deputy Director of the Justice Department.”

“Good. Then you already have some history together. You’ll have something to talk about.”

Griffin sighed and took the jacket. “Fine. But even if I bump this to the front of the line, it’s not something that can be done in an hour.”

“When?” Kendra persisted.

“I’ll call you tomorrow. Or I’ll have the lab guys call you.” Griffin glared at Lynch. “Don’t bother to sic your patrons on me. It’s the best I can do.”

Lynch nodded. “Understood.”

Griffin turned to Kendra. “Listen… I’ll put in a call to Santa Monica PD. I’ll make sure they keep us in the loop on their investigation.”

She looked at him in surprise. “Thank you.”

He shrugged. “I can imagine what this guy means to you, Kendra. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.” He turned and disappeared through the double doors that led into the lab.

Lynch shook his head. “Damn.”

“What?”

“I’ve practically made a career of disliking that man. Then he goes and pulls a stunt like that.”

“You mean being decent.”

“Yeah, the nerve of that guy, huh.”

“Yeah, some nerve.” Kendra smiled and turned to walk back down the hallway.

He fell into step with her. “What now?”

“I guess we wait.”

“Like hell. I know you better than that, Kendra. You’re not going to twiddle your thumbs while you wait for the lab to do its thing.”

“No, I mean… You’ve done what I asked you to do.”

He sighed. “And now you’re done with me? How cruel.”

“I figured you have better things to do than traipsing along with me on a case that may not be a case.”

He stepped close to her. “Haven’t you noticed I enjoy traipsing with you? It’s always an experience. It’s the most fun I’ve had in the past couple of years.”

“You have a strange idea of fun.”

He flashed that million-dollar smile at her again. Was he trying to be irresistible, or did it just come naturally to him? He was trying, she decided, though he didn’t have to try very hard.

“I mean it,” he said. “Where do we start?”

“I’m going to the mountains. Big Bear.”

“Why?”

“I could tell from Waldridge’s shoes and tires that he’d been in snow recently. They were frosted with rock salt. That doesn’t leave much of Southern California left. And he had a tag on his suitcase labeled L35.”

Lynch nodded. “Big Bear City Airport.”

“You knew that off the top of your head? I had to Google it on my phone when we were driving here.”

He shrugged. “I get around.”

“Anyway, I figure I’ll drive up there and ask some questions.”

“Now?”

“Like you said, thumb-twiddling isn’t my style.”

“I don’t like the idea of driving. It’s getting dark, and the roads are icy and slick up there. I think it would be better if-”

“Ha! You’re just afraid of getting that Ferrari dinged up. No problem. Take me home, and I’ll get my-”

“I was just going to say, why drive, when we can fly? Especially, if we’re going to the airport anyway.”

“It’s a little late to try and arrange a charter.”

“Who said anything about a charter?”

She stared at him for a long moment. “Don’t tell me you have your own plane?”

“No, I’ve done very well for myself, but those things are tens of millions of dollars and I wouldn’t use it enough to make it worth my while.” He motioned for her to follow him toward the elevators. “I’ll borrow one from a friend.”

She snorted. “But who’s going to fly it? You?”

“Yes. Unless you’d like to take a whack at it. But I’m afraid my friend would insist that your CE-525-license rating be up to date.”

“Seriously? You can actually fly a plane?”

“I guess you’re about to find out.” He pulled out his phone as they walked. “I just need to make a quick call. It’s always nicer to have the jet warmed up and waiting when we get there.”

She just stared at him. “Warmed up and-?”

He spoke into the phone. “Greetings, Giancarlo. It’s Adam. I have a favor to ask…”

KENDRA SPENT THE TWENTY-MINUTE drive to Montgomery Field Airport in a state of disbelief that abated only slightly when Lynch drove through a group of small hangars toward a small, low-winged jet with a rear T-tail. A high-pitched whine emanated from the plane’s engines.

Lynch parked a few yards away. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Kendra pointed toward the plane. “You didn’t say it was a jet.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t. It’s a Cessna Citation Jet. This one’s configured for eight passengers, so the two of us should be very comfortable.” He opened his car door. “Shall we?”

She followed him out of his car and across the tarmac to the plane, where Lynch shook hands with a ground mechanic. They boarded the few short steps into the cabin. Kendra ducked into the doorway and froze.

“Is everything all right?” Lynch asked.

She surveyed the main compartment, which was over twenty feet long. With plush leather chairs, a large coffee table, and a sectional sofa, it was decorated more like a sumptuous living room than a corporate jet.

She shook her head in amazement. “This is nicer than my condo.”

“My friend hates to fly. This takes the sting out of it for him.”

“I guess it would.”

He moved toward the cockpit. “My seat is up here. Make yourself comfortable. You’ll find the bar stocked with some of the nicest wines you’ll ever taste. I recommend the ’89 Grand Puy Lacoste.”

“Give me a break. Don’t pile all this fine living on me at once. Is there room in the cockpit for me?”

Lynch shrugged. “There’s a copilot seat, but I guarantee you it’s a lot less comfortable than that sofa.”

“It’s okay. I’ll ride shotgun.”

They settled in the tiny cockpit and buckled up. Lynch slipped on the headset and after a brief exchange with the tower, he conducted the instrument check. He then piloted the jet onto a runway and took off into the night sky.

Lynch glanced at her and smiled. “You’re very quiet. You look like you’ve never ridden in a private plane before.”

“No, and certainly not piloted by someone I know. But you seem to know what you’re doing.”

“Thanks.” He grimaced. “I guess that’s why you wanted to sit up front, so that you could see for yourself. I’m glad I passed the test.”

“I’m not qualified to judge your ability. I was just interested in the entire process.” She smiled. “And you can never tell when you might be able to use something you watch being done.”

He chuckled. “Please, tell me you won’t attempt to fly this Cessna without a little more instruction than a visual.”

“I wouldn’t think of it… maybe. When did you find the time to get a pilot’s license?”

He shrugged. “I started flying about seven years ago, when I was still on the FBI payroll. I figured it would be a handy skill to acquire. It’s actually come in more handy since I left. I’m now rated on several planes and helicopters. When I’m in a tight spot, it’s always nice to have extremely fast transportation options.”

“I guess that makes sense. But not everybody has a friend with a private jet at his disposal. Who is this man?”

“Giancarlo? Just a guy I helped out once.”

“Helped out how?”

Lynch paused to check his altitude. “I was sent to find him in Budapest a few years ago. Our government got some intel that he was plotting some terrorist activity against U.S. targets, and they wanted him taken out.”

She went still. “They wanted you to kill him?”

“No, they just wanted me to find out where he was.” He looked at her quizzically. “Who do you think I am?”

It was a question that she had been trying to solve for all the time that she had known him. She knew how clever he was, she knew he had a genius for manipulation and an experience in black ops that was both dangerous and impressive. She just didn’t know how and in what depth he used those skills. And it wasn’t something she would ever ask him. “Do I really need to say it?”

“Hmm. Well, they had other people standing by for that. Anyway, I found out we were working with some faulty information. He was being set up. I helped him out of a potentially lethal situation. In the end, I helped clear him and broker a deal with the State Department that brought him here. He’s been a grateful friend ever since.”

“His gratitude includes the use of this plane?”

“As long as I bring it back in one piece and gas it up when I’m finished.”

“Nice.”

“Yes, I try not to abuse his generosity, but there are times it’s incredibly convenient. Like tonight.” He shot her a sly glance. “When it enables me to impress a woman who is exceptionally difficult to impress.”

“Who said I was impressed? I’m merely interested in a new experience.”

“New experiences,” he murmured. “I’ll have to remember that’s the way to lure you.”

“And I wouldn’t really worry about abusing your friend’s generosity.” She looked away from him. “Sometimes the debt is so great that you’re willing to put up with anything, do whatever is possible or not possible, just to pay a little toward it.”

“I don’t think we’re still talking about Giancarlo,” he said quietly.

“Sure we are.” She smiled with an effort. “I was just reminding you of something that a master manipulator like you should always keep in mind. I’m surprised that you’re treading so softly where your friend is concerned.”

“The emphasis and key word is friend.” He grinned. “That concept can sometimes mess everything up when you’re trying to rule the world.” He checked a flight map on his tablet computer. “So what do you expect to find in Big Bear?”

She was glad that he had shifted the subject to one that made her feel less vulnerable. “I have no idea. But I know Waldridge was in the area, probably earlier in the day yesterday. He wasn’t pleased when I figured out he’d been there, so that’s pretty much all the reason I need to check the place out. We’ll see what turns up.”

“Sounds reasonable. Only another few minutes.” He glanced at the snow blowing across the windshield. “You’re not dressed for this weather. Look in the closet just outside the cockpit. I think you’ll find something to wear.”

Big Bear City Airport Big Bear Lake, California

Fifteen minutes later, Kendra stepped off the plane wearing a Mackage moto jacket, all leather and zippers. She looked down at the snug-fitting garment. “The snow won’t be kind to this leather, you know.”

“I don’t care. I’m positive that jacket has never looked better.” Lynch smiled and followed her down to the tarmac. He was wearing a long wool coat he’d grabbed from the same closet. They stopped and looked around the small airport. It was quiet and dark. There were no other planes in operation, and the place was obviously working with a skeleton crew. He motioned toward a brightly lit building at the end of a row of hangars. “That’s the administrator’s office. We’ll start there.”

They walked toward the building and glanced through the glass door to see a dimly lit office of three desks. The room’s only occupant was a young man peering intently at a laptop. Kendra tried the door. Locked. Lynch rapped on the glass, and the man stood up and came to the door.

He unlocked it and pushed it open. “May I help you?”

Kendra’s eyes flicked to the name plaque on his desk. “You can if your name is Matt Paulsen.”

“Uh, yeah. That’s me.”

“Good. I was told you could help us.” She pulled out her phone and showed him a photo of Waldridge. “Did you see this man arriving here in the last couple days?”

He squinted at the phone. “I’m not sure. I don’t see everyone who comes through here. You might ask some of the ground crew. There’s no way to know for certain-”

“He was probably on a charter,” she interrupted. “He might have transferred from LAX or another international airport. He has an English accent, and he would have been pulling a brown-and-black rollerboard-”

“Wait.” He studied the photo for another moment. “I do think he was here.”

“And what makes you think that?”

“I remember the accent. Kind of upper-crust. It was the night before last. Somebody met his plane.”

“A limo?” Lynch asked.

“No. It was another English guy, and they seemed like they were friends. The guy picked him up in an SUV.”

“What color?” Kendra asked.

“It was dark. Maybe green.”

She turned to Lynch. “Sounds like the same car Waldridge was driving. His rental car was a dark green Explorer.”

Lynch leaned closer to Paulsen. “What can you tell us about the plane that brought him here?”

The young man hesitated.

“Not sure? You’ll probably need to check your files.” Lynch pushed past him and strode confidently into his office. “Come on, Kendra. We’ll wait inside, out of the cold.”

Paulsen frowned uncertainly as he watched Kendra enter the office. “Uh… I’m not sure I can talk to you about this. I mean, do you have some kind of warrant?”

Lynch took a step forward, instant dominance and aggression. He must be getting impatient. He was usually much more diplomatic. Kendra raised a hand to stop him. She reached into her pocket and produced Detective Shea’s card. “We’re working with the Santa Monica Police Department on an investigation. If you have any concerns, please call this number. But we need this information immediately, so if you want to call now, we’ll wait.”

Paulsen looked at the card for a long moment, giving Kendra time to wonder how Shea would react if he actually decided to phone. Paulsen finally waved the card away. “It’s okay.” He moved to the front desk and jiggled the trackpad of a laptop to wake it up. “It’s all part of the public FAA record. We log all the flights here. It wasn’t from any of the charter companies that usually service the airport.” He studied the screen. “Hmm.”

“What?” Lynch asked.

“It’s a tail number. I cut and pasted it into the FAA registration database, but it’s not coming up as a valid entry.”

“Like it doesn’t exist?” Kendra asked slowly.

“Exactly like that.” Paulsen tried it again, this time making sure that he had inserted all of the characters. The monitor flashed: NUMBER NOT VALID.

“Could it have been changed?” Kendra asked.

Lynch shook his head. “Even if it had, this registry would still show us every plane that had ever carried this number.” He turned to Paulsen. “Are you sure this is correct?”

He shrugged. “There’s always the possibility of a mistake, but I doubt that. We check and double-check these things. Homeland Security pretty much demands it. No, I’m sure that’s the number on the plane that brought him here.”

Lynch turned toward a bank of three monitors mounted high on the office wall. Each camera showed a night-vision image of another part of the tiny airport. “What are chances of one of these capturing the plane’s arrival?”

“Not great. Those cameras are more for loss prevention. They might have caught your guys coming or going in the car, though.”

Lynch and Kendra exchanged a glance.

Kendra studied the monitors. “How long do your recordings stick?”

“They sit on a hard drive for seven days.”

“Good,” Lynch said. “Take us forty-eight hours back.” Lynch fired it more like an order than a request, but he correctly predicted it would be the surest way to get Paulsen to immediately comply.

“Okay.” Paulsen leaned over a computer desk beneath the monitor bank and used a trackpad to move back the surveillance camera’s timeline. He stepped back and looked at the screen. “There. Too bad it wasn’t during the day, but the night-vision camera helps a bit.”

Kendra studied the image, which at the moment only showed the familiar SUV. “That’s definitely the vehicle that Waldridge was driving,” she said. “Right down to the scrapes on the right-wheel hubs. As if someone had ground them against a tall curb.” She pointed as two men stepped into the frame. “That’s Waldridge.”

“How about the other guy?” Lynch asked.

Kendra studied his pudgy features, bushy eyebrows, and unkempt white hair. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen him before.” She turned to Paulsen. “Is this the man you were talking about? The one who also spoke with a British accent?”

“Yep. That’s him.”

Waldridge loaded his rollerboard suitcase into the hatchback, then climbed into the passenger seat as the white-haired man took his place behind the wheel. After another few moments, the SUV turned around and disappeared through an opening between the hangars.

“I’d like a photo printout of those two men,” Lynch said.

Paulsen smiled apologetically. “I’m afraid we’re not set up for that.”

Lynch pulled out his phone. “No problem. If you’ll rewind it, I’ll snap a photo right off the monitor.”

As Paulsen and Lynch worked on their crude frame grab, Kendra took the opportunity to take a closer look at the man. His suit, with its narrow cut, high arms, and sculpted shoulders, was likely British, as were the leather Cheaney shoes. She couldn’t get a read on his spectacles though they were consistent with many European frames she’d seen. His wild hair probably hadn’t been cut in three months or more.

“That SUV is over five years old,” Lynch said. “Too old to be in the fleet of the major rental car companies. Where could he have gotten it?”

Paulsen shrugged. “Those are popular rentals around here. Easy to throw skis and snowboards in the back.” He thought for a moment. “It could be one of Fennel’s cars.”

“Fennel?” Kendra repeated.

“Yeah, Wally Fennel. He runs a small used-car lot near the hospital, but I think he makes most of his money renting the cars while he tries to sell them. Some of those wrecks have a tough time making it back up the mountain. If anyone’s renting five-year-old cars around here, it’s probably that guy.”

Kendra nodded. “Okay. Good. We’ll find out where he lives and see if he-”

“Oh, you won’t find him at home. Not for another few hours.”

Kendra checked her watch. “It’s almost ten. Is his lot still open?”

“Uh, no. He spends most nights at Murray’s Saloon on Cottage Lane. He sings karaoke there until he gets too drunk. Then he just drinks.”

Lynch smiled. “In that case, we’d better get over there before he goes facedown on the bar.”

“You’re probably still okay.” Paulsen stopped the recording and the current security camera feeds resumed on the monitors. “But you still may have to listen to his really terrifying rendition of ‘My Sharona.’”