“By myself. In my own place.”

“Okay, fine.” He nodded toward the detectives, who were putting the husband in the backseat of a squad car. “But the next time you feel compelled to barge in on someone else’s murder scene, give me a call.”

“Why? So you can stop me?”

“I know better than that. So I can go with you. Which is a hell of a lot better than trailing after you.” He turned and moved away. “Think about it. I always thought we made a pretty good team…”

*   *   *

THE SKY HAD BEGUN TO LIGHTEN BY the time Kendra made it back to her condo near the Gaslamp District. She was already wound up by the double punch of the crime scene and Lynch’s unexpected appearance, but the sunlight’s psychological effect would soon make it even more difficult for her to get any sleep. The first year she’d had her sight, she’d covered her bedroom windows with aluminum foil to keep the daylight from poking around her curtains and nudging her awake. She had moved beyond that, but once awake, it was still tough for her to go to sleep once it was light outside.

Might be time to invest in blackout curtains, or at least a jumbo roll of aluminum foil.

It would be more difficult to put Lynch out of her mind. How in the hell did he know she’d be there?

Of course he knew. He was Adam Lynch, and he had connections everywhere.

A light flashed on the phone in her living room, indicating a message had been received while she was gone. Between three thirty and four thirty in the morning. Probably someone from the crime scene she had just left. Or possibly her mother, who was presently at a conference in Amsterdam and frequently forgot to take into account the time difference.

She picked up the phone and checked the caller ID: Olancha Police Department.

Another murder scene? Olancha was over two hundred miles away; she hadn’t cast her net that wide. She tried to remember if she even knew anyone on the force there.

No, she was sure she didn’t.

And if there was an active scene, they had to know there was no way she could get there quickly. So why call in the middle of the night?

Kendra retrieved the voice mail, and there was only a brief message asking her to call Sergeant Hank Filardi at the Olancha PD at her earliest convenience.

She stared at the cordless phone in her hand.

No.

Lynch was right. She needed to step back. Whatever it was, it could wait a few hours while she tried to salvage what was left of this night.

She put down the phone.

Todos Santos, Mexico

VICTOR CHILDRESS

He stared at the name on the ID card he had just purchased. Victor Childress. Not a name he would have chosen for himself, but it would do.

He pocketed the passport and turned toward the pounding surf. He couldn’t see the waves crashing on the dark beach though he could hear them. He took a deep breath. It should have been refreshing, but it wasn’t. It was like inhaling salt and dirt.

He couldn’t wait to leave this place.

Less than an hour from San Diego, yet a world away. A shit hole, to be sure, but it suited his purposes. No one knew him here, and no one would even think of looking for him. And after all those years in that prison, he needed the time to recharge his batteries and make preparations for his return.

It was time. Years of planning had finally led to this moment.

At his feet, a chunky Mexican man struggled to catch his breath as he rolled in a puddle of his own blood. The man’s lungs had collapsed, and he would survive only another minute or so.

He pocketed his knife and took another look at the forged California driver’s license, and then at the other items he’d been furnished. All the documents he’d ordered were superb. He slipped them into his pocket. The dying man had done magnificent work, but he couldn’t be allowed to live. Things had progressed too far to be derailed by an overtalkative tradesman.

He stepped over the dying man and walked across the warm sand. The wind suddenly kicked up, as if heralding the start of his journey.

He felt a surge of exhilaration. It was all coming together.

The waiting was over.

Eric Colby smiled. “This is it, Kendra,” he whispered. “Can you feel it? You will soon. This will be our masterpiece…”

CHAPTER 2

“DR. MICHAELS? KENDRA MICHAELS?”

Still groggy, Kendra sat up in bed and adjusted the phone against her ear. Had she been more awake, she probably wouldn’t have picked up. She glanced at the clock. 7:25 A.M.

“Depends on who’s asking?”

“Sergeant Hank Filardi, Olancha Police Department.”

It took her a moment to make the connection. “Olancha … Right. You left a message on my phone.”

“Yes, ma’am. I apologize for the calls, but I was wondering if you could help me out with something.”

“I see. A homicide case? Is there something about the killer’s M.O. that makes you think I would have special interest in—”

“No,” he interrupted testily. “Dr. Michaels, we’re quite capable of handling our own homicide cases here. We don’t call on outsiders to—”

“Then why did you just wake me up?”

“I’m calling about a young woman named Beth Avery. Do you know her?”

“Beth.” Kendra tensed. “Is she okay?”

“Is she a relative of yours?”

“Is she okay?” Kendra repeated harshly. “Answer me.”

“She’s fine. Is she a relative?”

“No.” Kendra threw off the covers and stood up. “She’s the sister of a friend. Eve Duncan. What’s this about, Sergeant?”

“I wish to hell I knew.” His voice was surly. “I have a Beth Avery in my jail, and I don’t know what to do with her.”

“What?”

“She’s been in lockup since last night. She was arrested on assault and battery charges.”

Kendra shook her head. This conversation was getting more surreal by the minute. “Repeat that … You think that she…”

“There were witnesses. It happened outside a bar called Blitzed just down the street from here. She worked a guy over pretty good.”

“A guy? There has to be some kind of mistake. Beth Avery isn’t much over middle height and she’s not that strong. Besides, she’s not a violent person.”

“Tell that to the six-foot-two guy she put in the hospital.”

“This is crazy.”

“I agree. And what’s crazier is that she could have posted bail and been out before midnight, but she’s made no effort to do that or even make a phone call. She doesn’t appear to be an indigent, and she drives a nicer car than I could ever hope to own.”

Because Beth was a multimillionaire, and that car was one of the few indulgences she’d allowed herself since she’d decided to stay here in California. What in hell have you gotten yourself into, Beth?

“Look,” the sergeant continued gruffly. “I’m just trying to help her and get her out of our jail. She doesn’t belong here. We tested her for drugs, and she’s clean. Harley Gill, the guy she beat up, is a local and has a history of violence and misdemeanors. She seems like a nice woman, real friendly. I’d like to process her and send her on her way before he’s released from the hospital and this escalates into something out of control.”

“I second the motion. How did you find me?”

“I found your number in her phone under In Case of Emergency.”

Kendra nodded. The last time she’d seen Beth, six months before, she’d grabbed the phone and typed in the number herself. They had spoken several times since then, and Beth always seemed happy and well.

“Okay. Can I speak to her?”

“She doesn’t seem interested in talking to anyone. She said that she didn’t want anyone to know she’s here. I think she’d refuse to speak to you. You say you’re friends with her sister?”

“Eve Duncan, but she lives in Georgia. She probably couldn’t make it there before tonight.” She paused. “And Beth wouldn’t want Eve to know she’s in trouble. Eve really wanted Beth to stay with her and let her take care of her.”