“Custodian,” Sheila repeated. “A strange choice of words.”

“I’m not a writer like you. But I know about custodians,” Beth said. “But you have my promise that I won’t reveal anything I’ve heard here today as long as my silence won’t hurt Kendra.”

“That’s good enough for me.” Sheila turned back to Kendra. “Well, will you give me the details?”

Kendra slowly nodded. “Fair enough, Sheila. But you might want to get yourself a strong drink first.”

*   *   *

HALF AN HOUR LATER, KENDRA and Beth were walking back to the condo. Kendra was so lost in thought that she realized she hadn’t said a word during most of the ten-minute journey home. She looked up at Beth. “Sorry. Rotten host I’m turning out to be, huh?”

“Not at all,” Beth said. “I’d have to be crazy to think you’d bounce right back and be chatty after having to relive your experiences with that monster.” She shivered. “I needed a little time to recover myself.”

“I didn’t want to expose you to Colby.” Kendra shook her head. “You know, Colby grew up as a child of privilege, with all the advantages in life. He studied metallurgy at MIT, and by all accounts, he was brilliant in his field. He was always a loner, though. No friends, no romantic relationships as far as we can tell. There’s no evidence that he ever hurt anyone until he was in his thirties, but then something seemed to snap. He killed over twenty people in just a few months. No regrets. No excuses. It was as if the monster he’d kept hidden all those years had suddenly broken free.” Her lips tightened. “And is still free: it’s terrifying that he’s still out there.”

“This time I hope you’re wrong, Kendra. I hope he’s dead.”

“I’m not wrong.”

“And you’re trying to save the world from him.” She walked in silence for a few moments. “I’m starting to realize just how much I’ve been missing out. You and my sister lead incredibly interesting lives. While I’ve been on the road looking for adventure, this is where the real excitement has been.”

“I don’t know,” Kendra said dryly. “Beating up that beefy redneck must have been pretty exciting.”

“That was nothing. This is life and death. I always thought you should do this full-time.”

Kendra snorted. “Me, a full-fledged FBI agent? It would never work.”

“Sure it would. I know how much you’re in demand. Eve told me that the FBI and various police departments are falling all over themselves to get you to consult for them.”

“But I get to say no, which is exactly what I do 95 percent of the time. I wouldn’t have that option if I were their employee. Besides, I love my music-therapy work. It’s what I live for.”

“But wouldn’t you rather be saving lives?”

“I like to think that my music-therapy work makes life worth living for some people.” Kendra glanced over and smiled at Beth’s skeptical expression. “I don’t expect you to understand, but during all those years I was blind, music is what gave my world color. It was something I could share with everyone else … A way to connect.”

“So your patients are blind?”

“No, almost none of them have been. The blind usually don’t need me. A fair number of the people I help are autistic and quite a few have been senior adults suffering from dementia. People who have difficulty connecting with the world around them. It’s still an emerging field, but we’ve had success using music to draw them out. It actually helps them make emotional and intellectual connections that language, for whatever reason, can’t make for them. When it works, there isn’t a better feeling in the world.”

Beth stopped as they reached the front of Kendra’s building. “I didn’t mean to sound cynical, but I spent a lot of time in that institution, where so-called therapists did nothing but hurt me. I’m glad there are people out there like you. People who really care.”

“Trust me, Beth. There are a lot of people who care.” She hesitated before continuing. “And while we’re on the subject … Have you talked to anybody about what happened to you at Seahaven?”

“Talked to anybody … like a therapist?”

Kendra nodded.

Beth laughed. “You’re kidding, right? I’ve heard that a few times since I got out, but I never expected to hear it from you. I thought you understood me.”

“I do. It’s just that … You’ve been through hell. You can’t just shrug off an experience like that. It could sneak up behind you and ambush you.”

“Believe me, I’m not pretending it didn’t exist. I’m still working through it. As crazy as it sounds, there are days I wish I was back in that institution, medicated out of my mind. Sometimes it’s easier to not feel anything than to face real life.”

“But have you actually even started to face real life? It doesn’t seem like you have. At least not yet.”

Beth looked away for a long moment. “I’m facing it as much as I can right now. Okay? I need to ease back into things.”

“Sure. Just remember that there are people in the world who have your back. People you can trust.”

Beth smiled. “I remember. Thank you, Kendra.”

“I just wanted you to know.” She stopped and took the condo keys off their ring and handed them to her. “I hate to do this, but I need to leave you for an hour or so.”

“You’re ditching me?”

“I need to talk to the head of the local FBI field office.”

“Now?”

“Yes, I texted him while we were still sitting there with Sheila. I don’t think he’s very happy with me right now, but he agreed to meet at his office.”

Beth looked down at the keys in her hand. “I don’t suppose you’d let me go with you?”

“Not this time. Griffin isn’t into sharing with unauthorized personnel, and he’s not as easy to manipulate as Sheila Hunter. He’d probably throw you out.”

She made a face. “Pity. It would have been interesting.” She turned toward the door. “Okay, see you.”

“Beth … You’ll be here when I get back, right?”

Beth grinned. “Depends if I get a better offer. I guess that means you’d better get back here soon.”

“I will.” She shook her head in amusement. “I promise.”

FBI Field Office

San Diego

KENDRA STOOD UP FROM THE BENCH in the main lobby and moved toward Special Agent in Charge Michael Griffin. He had just come from the parking-garage stairwell and looked irritated as hell.

“Thanks for meeting with me.”

“I had just gotten home, Dr. Michaels.”

Now she knew he was annoyed. He only called her “Dr. Michaels” when he was genuinely pissed.

He continued, “I was sitting down to dinner with my family, thinking about the Chargers-Cowboys game on my DVR…”

“It was a rout. Cowboys trounced the Chargers forty-seven to six.”

His face fell. “Great. You had to take that away from me, too.”

“I’m kidding. I didn’t even know there was a game tonight.”

“Oh, you’re hilarious.”

“I didn’t come here to entertain you. I think I may finally have some evidence that Colby is still alive.”

He sighed. “I liked you better when you were ruining my football game. Let’s go to my office.”

They took the elevator to Griffin’s spartan office on the fourth floor. They passed a half dozen agents in cubicles, some working late, others toiling away on their evening shifts. Griffin closed the door behind them. “Now what do you have for me?”

Kendra raised a lined notepad and tore out two pages. “Sorry this couldn’t be more polished, but I drew them down in the lobby while I was waiting for you.”

Griffin took the pages and studied the hastily drawn sketches. “Hmm. You’re amazing in many things, Dr. Michaels, but freehand drawing isn’t one of them.”

“I’m still learning. Schools for the blind don’t have ‘crayon time.’”

“Are these glorified stick figures supposed to be people dancing?”

“No. They’re dead people. This is how the corpses were posed at a murder scene in Redondo Beach a few weeks ago. I drew them from memory based on some crime-scene photos I saw just an hour or so ago.”