The detectives, Griffin, and Beth followed her to the wall to gaze at the photos. “I’ll be damned,” Stokes said. “But there’s no telling how long ago that rug—”

“Sixty days, give or take,” Kendra broke in. “That’s the most recent Super Bowl on the TV behind them. I have no idea who won, but those were the teams, right?”

Stokes studied the photograph again. “Uh, yeah.”

In the photograph’s glass reflection, Kendra caught Griffin smiling. He was clearly enjoying her display and the discomfort it was furnishing the detectives more than he did on his own investigations. That annoyed her, too. After that far-from-subtle holdup he’d maneuvered to get her permission to come here, she didn’t like that he was getting any amusement from the situation.

She turned a warm smile on Stokes. “Actually, it’s perfectly understandable that you’d not notice the photo. You’d be surprised what Special Agent Griffin’s team manages to miss, and they have all that expensive, technical equipment at their disposal. I’m sure you did a good job here, Detective.”

Stokes nodded. “Thanks.” He smiled. “It’s good to be appreciated. Anything else you need to see?”

“Yes.” She moved toward a rear doorway, passing Griffin, who was no longer smiling. “Bedroom?”

“Just a single bedroom and bath.”

The group followed Kendra back to the bedroom, which, like the rest of the houseboat, was tastefully decorated. A queen-size bed headed one wall, and a closet and cherrywood chest of drawers anchored the left side. A small desk was pushed into the corner, where a laptop, printer/scanner combo, and a bulletin board formed Sheila’s home office. Kendra motioned for Beth to capture the photo of the bulletin board contents with her iPad.

Beth crouched beside the desk and panned over the board. “Looks like she was working on a few different stories.”

Kendra nodded. “It’s likely she did a lot of work in her office downtown.”

“We’ve been to her cubicle and spoken to her colleagues,” Starger said. “Including some who witnessed your blowup in the plaza. It was quite the scene.”

“Then I suppose you’ve read her story about me.”

“We have. You’re saying it’s inaccurate?”

“No. My problem was that she lied and possibly used illegal means in order to get me to participate in a slam piece against myself.”

“Yeah, the captain told us he’d received some kind of hard evidence that had happened.”

Lynch. He’d told her that he’d find a way to do it, but she hadn’t thought he’d had time yet.

Griffin shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the first time that a journalist gained the cooperation of a source under false pretenses.”

“She was scum,” Beth said bluntly. “I had a front-row seat to the whole thing. Lying scum.”

“Calm down, Beth. Her actions speak for themselves, as your captain will confirm, Detective,” Kendra said. “I’ll just leave it at that.”

“That’s all well and good,” Stokes said. “But we may still wish to have you come in and discuss this with us a bit further, Dr. Michaels.”

She stared at him, trying to decipher his tone. Was he threatening her? Or merely trying to check all the necessary boxes in the investigation? Or he might just be trying to pick her brains so that he would look good to his superiors. She was leaning toward the last option. It was what he had done at that first crime scene where she had met him. No problem. As long as he needed something from her, she might be able to get information. Cooperation would definitely be the correct course. She was probably going to have to live with suspicion until she was able to prove Colby had killed Sheila. She’d have to walk very carefully indeed. “Anytime.”

She stepped through the bathroom doorway and froze. The shower was blocked by several lengths of police tape, pulled taut over the glass door. “What’s this?”

Starger joined her in the cramped bathroom. “The forensics team has indicated that they might want to come back for another look there.”

“Why?” Kendra said as she examined the white tile shower walls. “The only reason they’d do that is if…” Realization hit her. “… they think the killer might have cleaned up here.”

Starger nodded.

Kendra knelt beside the shower to get a closer look at a tiny stain on the wall tiles. “Is that blood?”

“Yes,” Starger said.

“Would you care to elaborate and tell me whose blood?” Kendra asked. “Purely in the spirit of our vaunted cooperation?”

Stoker spoke to Griffin as well as Kendra. “The blood is Sheila Hunter’s. But we obtained other genetic material here. We’re trying to push it through the lab.”

“What genetic material?”

“We found some hair in the shower drain that wasn’t hers.”

Kendra moved closer and examined the toiletries on a small shelf above the sink. “Nothing out of the ordinary here. This is all the same shampoo, soap, and cologne she was wearing on the two days I saw her.”

Kendra turned and stepped back into the bedroom. What in the hell had Colby sent her to find? It was easy to say that he only controlled her subconscious when she was sleeping and unable to fight him. But he was in her head, she realized. Baiting her, taunting her …

YOU’LL HAVE TO TRY HARDER, KENDRA …

Damn you, Colby.

I TOLD YOU WHERE TO LOOK …

The hell you did.

YOU’RE WASTING TIME …

Detach. Concentrate.

He was gone.

For now.

Stay sharp, she reminded herself. No good could come from having Eric Colby always in her mind.

She glanced around. “I need to look in every drawer, every closet. There has to be something I’m missing.”

“Then we’re missing it, too,” Stokes said. “It’s not a big place, and I was serious when I said we’ve searched every square inch.”

“Please. I’ll just be a few minutes more.”

With Beth shooting video alongside her, Kendra examined every item of clothing in the closet and drawers. She held up each of Sheila’s twenty-one pairs of shoes and turned them upside down to look at the soles. Then she moved to the kitchenette and living room, where she examined the drawers and cabinets.

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

“Satisfied?” Stokes asked.

Kendra shook her head. “No. I’m missing something.”

“We can’t allow you any more time.” Stokes gestured toward the front door. “If you don’t mind, Dr. Michaels.”

She did mind. She wanted desperately to stay here until she was able to pinpoint the reason Colby had sent her here.

She turned on her heel and left the houseboat, with Beth following. Outside, they made their way down the dock to the parking lot. They turned to watch Griffin shake hands with the detectives.

All warm and fuzzy, Kendra thought. Griffin had given her exactly what she wanted, and she hadn’t been able to follow through.

“You did a good job, Kendra,” Beth said quietly. “You saw a lot in there. Things no one else picked up.”

“It wasn’t enough.”

As the police detectives walked toward their cars, Griffin approached. “I’m sorry. I know that didn’t go the way you had hoped.”

“There has to be something else.”

“Maybe there’s a possibility you haven’t considered yet.”

“Like what?”

“Maybe your late-night hacker wasn’t Colby at all.”

“It was him.”

Griffin shrugged. “Think about it. Sheila Hunter’s story hit the Web, and just hours later, she was murdered. It became a worldwide news event. I don’t have to tell you that there are a lot of weirdos on the Internet. A story like yours can inspire a lot of bad behavior. Her piece cast you as a lunatic, so maybe someone saw an opportunity to toy with you.”

She said through her teeth. “I’m telling you, it was him.”

“How do you know?”

“I told you, he used the same words he’d used to me before. No Internet prankster could know that.”

“Are you sure? I’ve been thinking about that. These days, there are very few true secrets in the world.”