“Not necessarily. He gives me a lot of credit, so he would have been especially careful. I can usually detect dentures from the effect it has on speech, but I didn’t get that from him. With some practice or expert help, he could have fooled me.”

Bill’s eyes were narrowed on the sketch. “These cheekbones could have been extended and rounded off with some silicone packs placed between the upper lips and gum. It’s amazing how much something like that can change the shape of the face.”

“That’s why I need you to show me. Can you draw different versions of this sketch, based on how you think he might look in everyday life without a disguise?” She urged, “And try to think of every single trick he might have used?”

“Hmm. But only tricks that Kendra Michaels wouldn’t have detected.”

“Yes.”

He smiled faintly. “You’re right. That’s a challenge. I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, what should I do with this sketch?”

“Let the police department distribute it. I can’t hold that up because I have a theory that he managed to stage a switch. That’s the face I saw tonight, right down to the little mole above his left nostril. I have to stand by it. It’s as if you sucked this right out of my brain and splattered it across that page.”

“Not the most eloquent compliment I’ve ever received, but I’ll take it. I’ll drop this off with—”

RAP-RAP-RAP.

They were startled by the loud knock on the driver’s side window.

It was Griffin.

Kendra opened the window. “Any news?”

“Yeah.” He opened the driver’s door. “Come on. We’re going to Shell Beach.”

*   *   *

IT WAS ONLY A SHORT RIDE in Griffin’s car before Kendra had to abandon the vehicle to walk with Yates and the other police officers.

Grim faces. Tense faces.

Not a good sign, she thought as she strode after them down the concrete stairs that bridged the roadway with the small La Jolla cove known as Shell Beach.

As the name suggested, the area was well suited for collecting shells but was even better known for the sea lions that played and sunned on the rocks just offshore. Even now, Kendra could hear them braying in the darkness, voicing their displeasure at the helicopters overhead and the interlopers charging into their territory with flashlights.

Kendra and the dozen or so officers reached the beach and continued their single-file march in a wide arc that curved toward the shoreline. The area had obviously been roped off in the interest of preserving the scene, but she knew that the high tide was only hours away from erasing whatever evidence was left. You could never stop nature from taking back whatever it chose.

There was little question where they were headed since a half dozen flashlights were already trained on the spot up ahead.

The spot where Officer Gil Jillette lay dead.

He had been found facedown in one of the beach’s famous tide pools, wedged into an intricate rock formation. He was now on the beach, and as Kendra stepped closer she could see that he was dressed in his uniform and that the JILLETTE name tag was in its rightful place above his right breast pocket.

And a stocking had been pulled taut over his face, flattening his features and giving him the appearance of a department-store mannequin.

Just like all the others, two years before.

She forced herself to look at the dead officer’s face. Even through the stocking, she could see that his eyes were open, staring up toward the stars.

Damn. He’d done nothing to deserve this. He should be home with his wife, little girl, and that funny-looking Chihuahua/Jack Russell Terrier mix.

The memory of that family photo she had seen on the dash of his squad car was streaming back to her. She felt a wrenching sadness at what lay before that family.

One of the officers waved his hand over the corpse’s grotesquely swollen neck. “What’s this? He wasn’t in the water that long.”

Kendra leaned closer. “He had a reaction to the Vecuronium Bromide.”

The cop looked at her. “What?”

“It’s an anesthetic. The killer’s a copycat, and Vecuronium Bromide was the drug of choice. I’m sure this man has it in his system.”

Most of the officers were glancing at each other and obviously had no knowledge of the killer and his emerging pattern. Their expressions all conveyed some variant of “what is this crazy bitch talking about?”

Never mind them. She carefully scanned the corpse. Could Gil Jillette tell her anything else?

Come on, don’t let that bastard get away with doing this to you. Help me. Show me.

But she couldn’t tell much that was different. Just a confirmation of what she already knew. The name badge had been put on by the killer, not Jillette. The pin had missed the stitch-reinforced hole and pierced the shirt just outside the ring. The shirt was still wet, but even so, Kendra could see this was a mistake Jillette never made himself.

Anything else?

Maybe one thing. A rawness around his lips, with some hairs pulled out of his moustache …

Her head swiftly lifted. She said urgently to the circle of police officers, “Hurry. Go search the beach. Try to find a large adhesive bandage or maybe a strip of duct tape. If you do, bag it as evidence. It was probably placed over his mouth, then torn off. It may have the killer’s DNA. Understand?”

“Go,” Gates said sharply to his men. “Move it!”

The policemen scattered like leaves in the wind.

Kendra watched them for a moment but then shook her head to clear it. She was suddenly feeling weak and foggy. She’d been energized by the search for Jillette, but every ounce of her energy had now drained away. It was as if the evening’s events had come rushing back to her, pummeling her emotionally and physically.

“You look like you’re ready to collapse.” Griffin was behind her. “Now will you go to the hospital?”

“No.”

“Kendra, dammit, you’re—”

“I’m going home. I need to get my head around everything that’s happened tonight.” She glanced at him. “And don’t you ever phone Lynch and tell him that he’s to interfere. That was completely ineffectual, and I won’t tolerate it.”

He shrugged. “I thought it was worth a shot. We still need a full statement about what happened back at the house.”

“I gave a detective my statement, and Bill Dillingham has done the sketch. That’s enough for now. Who has Corrine Harvey’s clothes that I took from the scene?”

“Our forensics guys took it. It’s already in the lab.”

“Good. Listen, I’ll come to your office tomorrow. Anyone else who wants to hash this out with me can join us.”

“Okay. But just know I’m putting a guard outside your condo effective immediately.” He raised his hand as if anticipating her objection. “You don’t get a choice in the matter. There’s a serial killer on the loose, and you’re the only one who has seen him. That makes you extremely valuable to this case. I can’t afford to lose you.”

“How sentimental. I’m getting all teary-eyed here.”

“I figured it’s the only reason you’d go along with it,” he said gruffly.

Kendra smiled wearily as she turned away from Griffin. For once, he was displaying all the signs of being a decent human being. It was as if the rough edges had, at least momentarily, been sanded away. “Actually … you’re right. That makes perfect sense. So who’s going to give me a ride back to my car?”

*   *   *

“IT WAS A PLEASURE TO MEET YOU, Kendra. Don’t forget about the mole…”

She opened her eyes with a start, her heart pounding.

Dammit.

It had been another restless night. This was the third time she’d had that dream, always ending with that psycho in the police uniform turning toward her and smiling. But instead of texting her his message, he was saying it aloud, taunting her in the cruel whisper she’d heard on the phone.

She rolled over in bed and glanced at the clock—7:45 A.M.