“We’ll get right on this. In the meantime, the calls are still pouring in about that police sketch. We’re looking forward to having you come in and quickly eliminate a couple hundred of them for us. It will save us some serious manpower.”

“Griffin said you’ll be ready for me at two. I’ll do my best, Metcalf.” She hung up.

She checked her watch. Time to scan this deck and her apartment before she headed for her appointment with Dean. She doubted if she’d find anything else, but you could never tell. She moved toward the deck surrounding the pool.

*   *   *

“GOOD GOD.” DEAN’S EYES widened as he watched Kendra enter the Starbucks glass door. “What truck ran over you?”

“Mom didn’t tell you?” Kendra lifted her hand to her bruised cheek. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“It couldn’t be. Coffee?”

“Black.”

“Me, too.” He told the server behind the counter. “And one of those Danish.” He turned back to Kendra. “All your Mom said was that you’d had a fall and that was why you hadn’t called me. I thought you’d probably tripped on a rug or something.”

“A little more than that. The fall was out of a second-floor window.” She took her cup of coffee from the server and moved toward a table by the window. “But it’s like Mom to use it as an excuse to gloss over my apparent rudeness so that you wouldn’t think badly of me.” She made a face as she sat down in a chair. “And to try to hide the fact that I’m not the kind of woman you should be hanging around if you want a calm and happy relationship. Maybe she thought we wouldn’t get together until the bruises faded.”

“How did it happen?” He sat down opposite her. “It sounds like an unusual accident.”

“You might say that.” Give it to him straight and see if he could take it. “I actually jumped from the window to get away from a serial killer.”

He blinked. “I … see.” Then he shook his head. “No, I don’t see. I heard something on the news about some case you were working on, but no one said anything about your getting close enough to be chased by the bad guys.”

“It happens. Not often because I try my best to avoid getting involved. But it does happen.”

He gazed at her thoughtfully. Then he smiled. “May I say I’m beginning to understand your mother’s fondness for me? If I kept you occupied, you wouldn’t be chasing around jumping out windows. Or if you did, I’d be there to catch you.”

“Would you?”

“You bet.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Did you catch the bad guy yet?”

“Not yet.” He’d taken it amazingly well. “But we will. It’s only a matter of time. We have to get him. He’s a monster.”

His smile faded. “I don’t believe I like your dealing with monsters all by yourself.”

She chuckled. “Wouldn’t you say that the San Diego PD and the FBI are capable of giving me a little help? They’d be insulted.”

“I’m afraid I don’t appreciate the mighty arm of the law. I saw it from the underbelly. It wasn’t a pretty view.” He paused. “I’d much rather you let me stick close to see if you need me. How about it?”

He meant it. There was no doubt of his sincerity.

She was touched. “Thanks, but no thanks.” She reached out and squeezed his hand. “Mom is right, you are a great guy, Dean.”

He turned his hand and grasped hers. “And the other half of what she told you is that you’d be a fool not to let me in your life. Believe her.” He lifted her hand and kissed her palm. Then he laughed and dropped her hand. “Hey, I’m coming on too strong, aren’t I?”

“Yes.”

“And it turns you off?”

“A little.”

“I’ll tone it down, I promise.” He looked around the shop. “Besides, this isn’t exactly the best place for romantic gestures. You’ve got to give me a chance to do it right.” He picked up his fork and cut the pastry. “This is always great pastry. Would you like a bite?”

She shook her head. “No, thank you.”

“No sweet tooth?” He took a bite and sighed blissfully. “I do. Though my favorite sweets are fruit pies. My parents had a farm in Seminole County, Florida, and my mother was a great cook. She’d make the greatest cherry pies for the family and the workers.”

“Are your parents still alive?”

“Not my mom. My dad married again and still lives on the farm. Nice woman. But I don’t go back and visit often. Too many lingering memories.” He finished the pastry and pushed the plate aside. “Besides, I think it’s time I made a few memories of my own.” He lifted his cup to her. “And you’re the most memorable woman I’ve ever met.”

“Yes, but not the kind you’re looking for. We have virtually nothing in common.” She was experiencing regret even as she said it. It was nice to think of making memories with a sweet guy like Dean. “I’m independent and I can be self-centered and I have trouble with the word compromise. Tell my Mom to fix you up with someone else.”

“I like her first choice.”

“She’s brainwashed you.”

“Maybe a little, but I volunteered.” He held up his hand as she opened her lips to speak. “From now on, your mother is out of it. We’re on our own, Kendra. I’m not going to be overaggressive. I’ll just give you a call now and then to keep myself in your mind.” He thought about it. “But not before tomorrow morning. How about making these coffee breaks a daily ritual?”

“Dean.”

“Okay, I’ll drop it for now.” He smiled. “And I’ll work on being that charming guy I told you I’d be to lure you into my spell. Would you like to hear why I became a teacher? It’s kind of amusing.”

“You’re trying to distract me.”

“Right. I’ve only got an hour before you fly away from me. I’ve got to make you want to come back tomorrow.”

She gazed at him with helpless exasperation. His smile held a hint of mischief, but his determination was clear. She suddenly realized she didn’t wish to fight that determination. He was like a ray of sunlight, and she wanted to bask in it for a little while.

“Okay.” She smiled as she leaned back in her chair and lifted her cup to her lips. “So distract me. Tell me why it was so funny that you decided to become a teacher.”

*   *   *

“NO. NO. NO.” ANOTHER SET OF PICTURES flicked in front of Kendra’s eyes. “No. No. No. No.”

Kendra leaned back in the FBI conference-room chair, watching the projection screen as Saffron Reade clicked through the photos she had compiled from the police-sketch tip line.

She had to laugh out loud at how off base many of the photos were, but some had a passing resemblance to the police sketch she had helped produce.

“No. No. No. No.” Kendra glanced over at Reade. “Where did you get all these pictures?”

“Many of the callers had a name and address, so we were able to pull most of them from driver’s license photos.”

“Yes, I thought I recognized that dazed, thousand-yard, Department of Motor Vehicles stare.”

“And it looks like quite a few of them were taken on the sly from the tipsters themselves. You have to watch out for those camera-phone-wielding neighbors … They just may be trying to finger you as a serial killer.”

“If any of them succeed, more power to ’em.” Kendra shook her head “no” as Reade showed her a few more slides. “None of these is hitting even close to the mark. But it’s early yet. Maybe if you keep that police sketch in circulation, someone will—” She leaned forward. “Wait. Go back to that last one.”

Reade clicked her remote and displayed the previous photo. The picture was somewhat blurry, but it showed a man in a brown United Parcel Service uniform who looked remarkably like the man she had encountered at Corrine Harvey’s house.

The photo was obviously taken from a distance, shot through a window screen. The UPS man, seen only in profile, was pushing a dolly down a suburban sidewalk. The hairline, cheekbones, and even the swimmer’s physique were all just as she remembered them.

Kendra looked over at Reade. “Holy shit, this could be our guy.”