“I’m going,” Griffin said testily. “I don’t need you to tell me what to do.” He motioned for Metcalf and Reade to join him and he glanced at Kendra as he turned toward the door. “I hope to see you tomorrow.”

Kendra watched Lynch open the door as they exited and exchanged words with the guard outside.

Lynch turned back toward her. “Me, too?”

She nodded. “Thank you,” she silently mouthed.

He shrugged and stared at her for a long moment. “If you need me, call.” He turned and followed the other agents out of the condo.

She did need him. She didn’t want to be alone with the memories that were bombarding her. But if he stayed, she would reveal weakness, and she didn’t want Lynch to see her like that. She had to be strong. That was another time, another place. She wouldn’t let Colby beat her now.

But oh, dear God, those memories …

Four Years Earlier

Carlsbad, California

10:40 P.M.

“HOW MUCH FARTHER?” Kendra asked.

FBI Special Agent Jeff Stedler eased off the accelerator as their car hit a dense patch of fog. “Almost there, Kendra.”

A thick, soupy marine layer had descended on the coastal town of Carlsbad, thirty-five miles north of San Diego. The town’s tourist brochures touted the family-friendly resorts and expansive state park, but there was nothing inviting about this dark, lonely stretch of road in a long-abandoned industrial corridor. Large signs proudly trumpeted the cookie-cutter housing developments that would soon wipe the area clean.

“I don’t know why you think I can do this,” Kendra said tensely. “You should take me home.”

“Please. Just give it a shot.”

“I’ll be wasting your time.”

“I don’t think so.”

Kendra studied him. Of course he didn’t think so. His belief in her and everyone else in his life was unwavering, if a bit naïve. But she couldn’t dispute the fact that his confidence in people did seem to bring out their best. And that included her. In the seven months she’d been living with Jeff, he’d helped her finally find her truest, best self that had eluded her in those chaotic years after gaining her sight.

But tonight was still a mistake.

He glanced over at her. “Did you read the file I gave you?”

“Yes.”

“And…”

“It made me ill.”

“I’d be worried if it didn’t.”

He’d given her excerpts from the case file of a current FBI serial-killer investigation. It consisted mainly of descriptions and photos of nine grisly crime scenes that had one thing in common: each of the victims was decapitated, with no trace of the head left behind.

She shuddered. “Those photos were horrible. All those people … Even children.”

Jeff nodded. “Two little kids. I talked to the mother of one of them just yesterday. She kept telling me how much she wishes it was her.”

“I’m sure she does. I can’t imagine how someone goes on from that.”

“I can’t, either.”

She was silent. “Looking at those pictures, at first I just felt sick. Then I was depressed. Then I just got angry. I’m pretty much stuck at angry.”

“Good. Hold on to that.” Jeff turned on the wipers to clear away the condensation. The fog thinned, then billowed, with each turn of the road.

“Do you really think I can help?” Kendra asked. “I’m not like you, Jeff. This investigating stuff isn’t my thing. I don’t even like doing it.”

“You like helping people. You’ll get used to the rest. And I do think there’s a good chance that you might be the turning point. Nothing else is working for us. It might help to have a fresh set of eyes. Especially if those eyes are yours.”

“Ever since I was a little girl, even when I was blind, people were telling me I should be a detective.” She made a face. “I never thought the FBI would one day say it to me.”

He glanced at her with a smile. “I don’t know that I represent the entire FBI. I’m just one agent you happen to be sleeping with. If my colleagues seem a little skeptical, just ignore them. They don’t know you the way I do.”

“Meaning they’re not sleeping with me.”

“Meaning they haven’t seen you do the things you do. They’ve never watched you walk into a room, pick up on a thousand different details, and immediately give an entire rundown of the place. Or meet someone and hand them their entire personal history.”

“Parlor tricks.”

“They can be more than that.” His expression was intense. “And we can be more than that together. Do you realize how much good we can do? Why do you think I’ve been pushing you? You have a gift, Kendra.”

Jeff was an idealist, and he wanted to pull her along on his quest to save the world. Well, maybe she should go along even if that quest wasn’t her own. She had cared enough to want to live with him and begin to share his dreams. This was just another step. “I don’t know if you’re right or wrong, but I’ll see if—” She straightened on the seat. “There’s something going on ahead.”

The fog was pulsing with white, blue, and red strobes of light. Jeff slowed as they saw that the lights were actually flashers from half a dozen police cruisers parked in front of an old shoe factory.

They stopped and climbed out of the car. The factory’s small front courtyard was overgrown with brush and tall grass. Weeds sprouted from every crack in the sidewalk and parking lot. The brick archway of the worker entrance was lit only by the headlights and flashers of the squad cars. Beyond the entrance was a vestibule that had obviously once held the time clocks. After that was the factory’s main floor, topped by a multipaned skylight ceiling. Kendra could see the beams of high-wattage police flashlights darting against the ceiling and spearing into the foggy night sky.

Jeff handed her a dark blue FBI windbreaker that matched his own. “Here. Put this on.”

“I’m not cold.”

“I didn’t think you were. It’s so the local cops know you’re working with us. Go ahead.”

She slipped on the windbreaker, which was clearly meant for a man Jeff’s size. She rolled up the sleeves and followed him through the archway.

“Are you ready for this?” he whispered.

She wanted to tell him no, that she wasn’t sure she’d ever be ready for what lay ahead. She nodded jerkily, then was silent as they walked past a pair of cops securing the entrance. “I … think so. I’ve been preparing myself.”

“It may not matter. Sometimes no amount of preparing helps. If it gets to be too much, just leave the same way you came in. It’ll be okay.”

“Got it. And if I—”

That smell.

A sharp, acrid odor flooded her nasal cavities and burned her eyes.

The stench of death.

She hadn’t prepared herself for that.

They entered the cavernous factory floor, which was illuminated only by the investigators’ flashlights and a stray light from squad-car headlamps against the dusty upper windows. Kendra counted almost two dozen uniformed officers, detectives, and FBI agents pacing around the scene. Some looked busy, but most just looked freaked-out.

Then she saw why.

The remnants of several belted assembly lines could still be seen on the factory’s concrete floor, some more complete than others. Every fifteen feet or so, tall metal poles towered overhead, anchoring the conveyor-belt chassis to the slab.

Each pole had a human head impaled upon it.

Every single one of the victims on Jeff’s list, Kendra realized. The men, the women, the two children …

And their eyes were glued open.

Shock. Horror. Nausea.

“Are you okay, Kendra?” Jeff asked.

“No.” How could she be okay in a world that could produce a human being who could do this? She started to shake. “Terrible. It’s terrible.”

“Take deep breaths.”

If she took deep breaths, she’d smell the stench even more clearly. Didn’t he realize that?

“You can leave,” Jeff said quietly.