“We both know there’s nothing delicate about me. Someone is taunting you, Dr. Michaels. It’s no accident that they’re doing it in your own backyard.”

“And they’re doing a damned good job of it.”

“I’m sure this comes as quite a shock. But now you can understand why we needed to reach out to you.”

“Of course. And you can understand why this case truly sickens me.”

“It sickens all of us. Our profilers believe the killer is someone who might best be described as a fan of your investigative work.”

Kendra shook her head. “That’s bullshit. I don’t have any fans.”

“Well, that’s a surprise,” Griffin said, deadpan. “Dr. Michaels, we’re talking about someone who may at some point have reached out to you, either directly or perhaps on a public forum. Does anyone come to mind?”

“No, I do get e-mails through my business Web site. Some are interested in my cases, but most want to know about the medical procedure that gave me my sight. They’re either blind themselves or have a blind friend or relative.”

“Hmm. We should zero in on those who have expressed some interest or knowledge of your investigative work. Do you still have those e-mails?”

“I do. I’ll sort through and pass them along to you. As for what’s being said about me on online forums, I have no idea.”

“We do,” Metcalf said. “I’ve built a file going back several years. Activity surges whenever there’s mention of you in media accounts of your cases. We’re using IP addresses to build a database of the people who post on discussion boards, news-story-comments pages, and the like. We’ve already seen that a lot of the same people pop up again and again.”

“See, you do have adoring fans,” Lynch said.

Griffin nodded. “One of whom might have killed six people in the last few weeks. Metcalf, do you have a copy of that database for Dr. Michaels?”

Metcalf slid a USB memory stick across the table to Kendra. “Here’s what we’ve come up with so far. Please review it and see if anything sets off any alarm bells.”

“Will do.” Kendra took the stick. “Although I generally try to avoid reading things being said about me online.”

“It’s almost all quite complimentary,” Metcalf said. “Though I was surprised there were no direct quotes from you concerning any of your investigations. None at all.”

“I never talk to the media about the investigative work I do. Whenever someone asks, I shut them down immediately.”

“But you obviously have no problem discussing your music-therapy work. You’ve been quoted in dozens of articles about that.”

“Yes, and I’ve written dozens more myself. Plus two books so far. It’s an emerging field that needs all the attention it can get.” She shook her head. “Trust me, I wish it’s all I had to think about right now.”

Reade raised the PowerPoint remote. “Shall I continue?”

Griffin leaned forward. “Actually, how far did you and Metcalf get downstairs?”

“It’s pretty much done. We were there most of the night.”

“Good. We can continue down there.” Griffin turned to Kendra and Lynch. “We moved some of our sections off-site, and this building’s entire second floor is vacant right now. Everything’s been ripped out, and it’s a mess while we wait for the crews to come in and remodel. But it does give us plenty of room, which is in short supply up here.”

“Room for what?” Lynch asked.

Griffin stood and grabbed his jacket from the back of the triangular-backed chair. “I’ll show you.”

CHAPTER

3

“I DON’T BELIEVE IT.” KENDRA’S voice echoed in the large space, bouncing off the bare walls and concrete floors.

“Amazing,” Lynch whispered.

They were with the FBI team on the vacant second floor, surrounded by nineteen freestanding bulletin boards. Each of the boards was packed with crime-scene photos, press clippings, and detail sheets of Kendra’s cases.

“This is all of them, isn’t it?” Griffin waved his arms over the boards. “Every one of your murder investigations.”

Kendra couldn’t answer at first. All those faces. All that death. All those places she had tried to forget. They were coming at her from every direction.

“You okay?” Lynch asked.

She nodded. Lynch was the only one who really knew her, who realized how this display might affect her. To the others, these were just her “triumphs,” her “greatest hits.” She finally turned toward Reade and Metcalf. “I’d forgotten I’d been involved with so many cases. I can see why you spent almost all night down here.”

“It’s our case data center,” Griffin said. “We’re calling it ‘the war room.’ These boards have the details of every murder you’ve ever investigated. You’ve only done five for us, but we’ve also included the ones you’ve done for other police departments and investigative units. We’re working with San Diego PD to make sure that there haven’t been others that match some of these.”

Kendra stopped to look at the face of the twelve-year-old Steve Wallach, who had been killed the night after she joined the hunt for the Marina killer.

Steve would have been in high school now, dating, driving, maybe thinking about college. He might even—

“Kendra?” Lynch said softly.

She nodded in acknowledgment and forced herself to look away from that boy’s face.

“Dr. Michaels,” Reade said. “If there’s any relevant information we left off any of these boards, please let us know.”

“Sure.”

“Exceptional job, isn’t it?” Griffin was strolling among the bulletin boards, like a patron at an art gallery from hell. “Since you’re going to be helping us, I thought it might be helpful for you to refresh your memory of these cases. Not to disparage Agent Saffron’s PowerPoint skills, this is probably easier to take in.”

Like a dagger to the heart, Kendra thought. Don’t look at them right now. Don’t let them see how it brought back all the nightmares.

“Doesn’t matter,” Kendra said. “I could never forget any of these cases. I talked to the loved ones of every victim on these boards. That’s not something I could ever forget … as much as I would like to.”

God, she wanted to get out of here.

Lynch quickly stepped between her and Griffin. “Has the medical examiner given you a preliminary report on the victims from the bridge?”

“Yes, it came in last night. Dr. Michaels was spot-on about the couple in the BMW. They were both strangled. The driver of the pickup truck appeared to suffer from blunt-force trauma, but the body was burned pretty badly. You were also right about the accelerant used. It was paint thinner, heavy on the toluene.”

“What about the driver of the minivan?” Kendra asked. “She was burned, too. I didn’t get a good look at her.”

“She was a thirty-two-year-old female from Old Town,” Griffin said. “She had multiple contusions in the chest, consistent with stab wounds. According to the M.E., her body appears to have been refrigerated.”

“What?” Lynch said.

Kendra nodded. “The killer kept her on ice until he was ready to unveil her. Do we know when she disappeared?”

“Four days before the crash,” Reade said. “She was an unemployed teacher. She had a roommate, but when she didn’t come home, the roommate just thought she had taken off for Phoenix to visit her parents.”

Look straight at Griffin. Keep your eyes off those boards. “What about the driver of the pickup truck?” Kendra asked. “Do we have a timeline on him?”

“He disappeared three days before the crash,” Griffin said. “He was a family man from North Park. San Diego PD had actually been working his disappearance.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if his body was also refrigerated,” Kendra said. “Do we have any information on the couple in the BMW?”

Griffin nodded. “They were fresh kills. They had both been to work that day, literally just hours before. They were due to meet friends at a restaurant earlier in the evening.”