Текст книги "The Naked Eye"

Автор книги: Iris Johansen

Соавторы: Roy Johansen
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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

“That’s the place.”

Kendra rubbed her hand over the hood and showed Beth the yellow and pinkish dust on her hand. “Pollen from both California poppies and creamcups.”

“You can tell that from just looking?

“And from smelling.” Kendra held her hand up to her nose. “Although the pollen starts losing its scent as soon as it separates from the flowers. The time of year also makes it easier to zero in on them. Plus, I see that your boots are stained from what I suspect were adobe lilies. One place nearby that all three are found in large numbers is the Bear Valley Wildflower Meadows.”

“Very good. You’ve been there?”

“Many times, but not since I’ve been able to see. My mom used to take me there and to the fields in Antelope Valley when the poppies were in bloom. Such amazing smells … It’s like fireworks to a blind person.”

“And I did try rappelling.” She held up her hands. “My fingers took a beating, but that could have been from any one of a number of causes.”

“Not really. The back of your fingers are sunburned from just above the knuckle. You were obviously wearing climbing gloves. Your fingers are cut and bruised in a way that suggests that you were pulling yourself up by some jagged rocks. And the palm of each hand has a faint lateral burn just about where you would grip the rope. Even though there was a glove between the rope and your hand, heat from the rope’s friction was enough to leave a mark.”

“It’s an exhilarating sport. I can’t wait to do it again.”

Kendra smiled. “Take me with you when you do. I’d love to try it.”

“Well, that brings me almost all the way back here. Except how you knew about the coastal route and my visit to Seahaven.”

“The squashed bugs again. There are some fairly fresh kelp flies splattered on your headlights and front license plate. Those are found along the coast. The few splotches of fresh seagull excrement on your car helped confirm it. And since you took the coastal route back, there’s no way you wouldn’t have at least seen your old hospital since it looms over the highway.”

“Just as it loomed over my life,” she said moodily. Her smile was forced. “Impressive as always, Kendra. As usual, you’ve met the challenge.” She glanced back at her car. “And most of all, you’ve shown me that I really need to find a car wash. First order of business.”

“What are your plans? After the car wash, of course.”

“I’m not sure.” Beth glanced up the long highway. “I met some people who live in Fresno. I think maybe I’ll go there.”

“You also know someone who lives in San Diego.”

Beth looked away and shifted uncomfortably. “I’ve been meaning to visit you, Kendra. I really have.”

“Then come back with me.”

“Now?”

“Why not?”

“I’m not sure … that I’m ready.”

“You don’t have to stay with me though you’re welcome to. If you still think you need some space, we’ll set you up in a spectacular hotel. Or if you’re more comfortable in some fleabag, San Diego has those, too.”

Beth made a face. “Whoa. I may have spent some time in some less than desirable places lately, but that doesn’t mean I still don’t appreciate the finer things in life.”

“A nice bayside hotel will work, then.” She put her hand on Beth’s arm. “No pressure. If you want to spend some more time on the road by yourself, I understand. Trust me, I’ve been there.”

Beth thought about it for a moment. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll start following you back. If I decide to peel off between here and there, no offense. Okay?”

Kendra watched her as she moved around to the driver’s door and unlocked it with her key fob. She understood. Just one more way of clinging to the control that had been stolen from her so long ago. “Sure, Beth. No offense.”

*   *   *

EVEN WITH HEAVY TRAFFIC ON the I-5 freeway, Kendra and Beth arrived at Kendra’s condo less than three hours later. As Kendra opened the building’s front door, she smiled back over her shoulder. “I thought I was going to lose you in San Clemente.”

“I thought about stopping there … But not today.”

“I’m glad. We’ll have fun here, for however long you can stay. If you’re up to it, I’d love for you to meet some friends of mine. One of them lives right here in the building.”

“Sounds great.”

They took the elevator up to Kendra’s floor, and as they approached the unit, Kendra saw a business card wedged in the doorjam. Kendra took the card and glanced at it.

“Let me guess,” Beth said. “A maid service. A pest-control company. A cute guy down the hall who wants to take you to dinner.”

“No. It’s from an online journalist. Sheila Hunter, a writer from The Kinsley Chronicle.”

“I read that on my iPad every morning. Good reporting, once you get past all the celebrity stuff.”

Kendra turned the card over, where a brief message had been scrawled.

She froze.

Beth leaned closer. “Are you okay?”

Kendra’s mouth went dry, and she could feel her heart pounding. “I—I need to call her. Right away.” Her hand shook as she unlocked the door.

“Kendra, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry, I just—” She turned to Beth. “I’ll explain. But first I need to—”

“Make your call,” Beth finished. “Sure. Do you want me to wait out here?”

“No. Come in.”

Kendra pushed open the door, already punching the number on her mobile phone.

The reporter answered on the first ring. “Sheila Hunter.”

“This is Kendra Michaels. I just got your card.” She drew a deep breath. “Is what you wrote on the back of that card true?”

“Dr. Michaels, thanks for getting back to me. I’d like to meet with you and ask some questions about—”

“Never mind that. Is it true?”

Sheila was silent, then answered, “Yes. It’s true. I have proof that Eric Colby is still alive.”

Kendra felt her chest tighten. “You’re not lying? You’re not just trying to get some story?”

“I don’t lie. I’m a reputable journalist. Of course, I’m trying to get a story, but Eric Colby is the story. If you’ll meet me at the rooftop at the W Hotel in an hour, I’ll prove it to you.”

“I’ll be there.” She hung up.

Her heart was beating hard, her hands were cold. She was excited, and yet it was a strange, chilling excitement. Close. Was she close at last?

“Kendra?”

She’d almost forgotten that Beth was standing there. She smiled with an effort as she turned to face her. “Sorry.” She moistened her lips. “I’m going to have to go out for a while. Something is … happening.”

“And it’s not good. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She took a step closer. “How can I help?”

“It may be good. It might be bullshit. I don’t know yet.” But that remark about seeing a ghost struck Kendra to the soul. It was too close to the truth about the call she’d just received about Colby. “I won’t know until I meet with this Sheila Hunter. She has the information. I’ll try to be back as soon as possible.”

Beth shook her head. “You’re upset. You’re one tough woman, and this isn’t like you. I’m not going to let you go by yourself. I won’t interfere, but I’m going to be there for you.”

“I don’t need you to be there for me. I just have to talk to this woman.”

“You talked to her for two minutes, and your hand was shaking when you hung up,” Beth said quietly. “I’m going.”

“I was just surprised. I don’t need you.”

“Just like I didn’t need you when I was in that jail cell. I’ve not had much experience with friendship, but I thought it went both ways.” She paused. “Unless you’re regarding me as a duty and not a friend.”

Dammit, Kendra thought helplessly, the last thing she wanted was to involve Beth or anyone else she cared about in this hunt for Colby, even in this small way. But she couldn’t reject Beth or make her feel she was less than a full person. She’d had to go through too much of that in that mental hospital.

“Okay.” Beth started to turn away. “I guess I was wrong about this. You don’t want or need my help. I’d probably just be in the way.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No, but it was implied. Look, you’re too busy to bother with me right now. It’s okay, I understand. I’ll just go to Fresno as I planned.” She smiled faintly. “If you need me, just give me a call.” She headed for the door. “And like it or not, I’ll be here for you.”

Kendra could have stood whining or arguments. She couldn’t take the dignity and graciousness. And she couldn’t take the idea of Beth’s driving out of town when she’d just made this fragile contact with her again. “Don’t you pull that on me,” Kendra said. “In case you didn’t know, people try to protect their friends, and that’s what I was doing.” She smiled. “But I wasn’t being fair to you by not letting you do the same. So let’s get out of here and get a drink at that bar before we meet the reporter. I think I could use one.”

CHAPTER 3

KENDRA GLANCED UNEASILY AROUND the rooftop bar at the W Hotel just a few blocks from her condo. Decorated with a tall, bonfire-themed fire feature, beach chairs, and several tons of sand, the whimsical nature of the area couldn’t have been more out of tune with Kendra’s edgy mood.

Beth came back to the table with a glass of cabernet for Kendra and a tall green concoction for herself. “Here we go. Though you obviously could use something stronger.”

“What’s that?” Kendra nodded toward Beth’s drink.

“It’s something I invented myself. I call it the Angry Leprechaun. It’s mostly Midori, with Frangelica and a kick of spicy rum.” She shrugged. “I spent a few weeks tending bar in Mammoth Lakes.”

“I see.”

Beth sat down. “You’ve been seriously freaked ever since you talked to that reporter we’re meeting. Are you going to tell me why?”

Kendra sipped her drink and looked away. “It goes back to my first criminal investigation. I helped catch a serial killer named Eric Colby.” She paused. “He’s the most terrifying man I’ve ever known.”

Beth wrinkled her brow. “But he was executed a few months ago, right? I couldn’t turn on a TV or go onto the Web without seeing his face.”

“He was officially put to death by lethal injection in front of a roomful of witnesses. But I don’t think it really happened. We know he was working with another killer on the outside. I think this man might have kidnapped the prison physician’s wife and pressured him to administer a drug to simulate Colby’s death. The doctor and his wife were found dead in their car in the Angeles National Forest a few days later.”

“Murdered?”

“It was ruled an accident. I went to the site myself, and the scene had already been so trampled by cops and rescue workers that I couldn’t prove otherwise. It hadn’t been protected as a crime scene.”

“Incredible.”

“It would be if I could prove any of this. He was supposedly cremated that very night, but I also have doubts about that. I’ve been searching for some sign of Colby ever since, but he still hasn’t resurfaced.”

“And this reporter thinks she has the proof you’ve been looking for?”

“That’s what she says.” Kendra shook her head. “I’ve been here skimming some of her other investigative pieces on my phone, and she looks like the real deal.”

“I take that as a compliment, Dr. Michaels.” The voice was brusque but pleasant and came from behind them. They turned to see a slender woman wearing a dark blue suit. She was attractive, with large brown eyes and shoulder-length brown hair. She extended her hand. “Sheila Hunter.”

“Kendra.” Kendra shook hands and motioned toward Beth. “This is my friend, Beth Avery.”

Sheila gave Beth an awkward glance. “I see. What I’m here to tell you is extremely confidential. I’m only prepared to discuss it with you alone.”

Beth moved to stand up, but Kendra motioned her to stay. “Ms. Hunter, I understand, but anything you want to talk to me about you can also say in front of my friend. I assure you that she will keep it entirely confidential.”

Sheila didn’t look happy to be thrown a curve. “I’m sure your friend is trustworthy, but in my business, information is currency. And the more people who have the information before I can publish my stories, the less valuable it is to me.”

“Beth has no interest in scooping you. Please sit down and let’s talk.”

Sheila looked searchingly at both of them for a long moment, then finally joined them at the table. “Very well. I’m going to trust you to make sure there’s no leak, Dr. Michaels. Thank you for meeting with me.”

“Kendra, please.”

“Kendra … I have some law-enforcement sources who have told me about a theory you have. A theory that Eric Colby is still alive.”

“Now it’s my turn to be concerned. Not that I expected it to stay a secret. I thought that the more people who knew there was a possibility, the more chance I had of catching the bastard.”

“So it’s true. You don’t believe Colby was really executed.”

“I don’t. Even though our state penal system and forty witnesses will tell you different.”

“It so happens that I was one of those witnesses,” she said quietly. “I was in the observation room at San Quentin that night.”

Kendra’s brows rose in surprise. “Then you won the lottery. Journalists all over the world were vying for those tickets. I think it was easier to win the Powerball than to get into that witness chamber.”

“Won isn’t the right word.” Sheila drew her arms close, almost in a defensive position. “I still think about that night.”

Kendra nodded. “It’s not easy to watch a man die.”

“Oh, it wasn’t that. It wasn’t that at all.”

“What was it?” Beth asked, obviously drawn from silence by Sheila’s sudden wave of emotion.

“It was Colby.” She drew a deep breath. “I’d seen pictures and courtroom footage, but nothing could compare with actually seeing him in the flesh. Those dark eyes, his thin lips … It was chilling. Everyone in that room could feel it. I tried to communicate that sickening chill in my story, but I know I failed miserably.”

“Words were empty where Colby was concerned. You had to experience him,” Kendra said. “No one has ever frightened me more. He knows exactly how to push the buttons of anyone with whom he comes in contact.”

“Well, you would know. You’re the only one to face off against him and survive.”

“He was toying with me. It was a game to him. He was still trying to involve me in his game right up until his execution day.”

“And you believe he still might be doing it.”

“He’ll never stop. Sooner or later, he’s going to show himself. He’ll find some way to prove to me that he hasn’t been beaten.”

Sheila raised a file folder from the handbag on her lap. “I think he already has.”

Kendra went still. “What is that?”

“You tell me.” She placed the folder on the table in front of Kendra and opened it.

Kendra leaned over it to examine the folder’s contents; half a dozen color-photo printouts, detailing a crime scene that looked vaguely familiar to her. There were two bloody corpses, a man and a woman, sprawled across a large bedroom featuring floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the ocean.

“Redondo Beach, six weeks ago?” Kendra said.

“Yes,” Sheila said in surprise. “You were there?”

“No, but I read the report and saw some of the crime-scene shots. But it didn’t look quite like this.”

“What was different? Can you tell me?”

Kendra turned the photos around in her hands, examining them from different angles. “Hmmm. I glanced at the materials a few weeks ago, but there’s something about these that—”

She froze.

It couldn’t be.

But, dear God, she was afraid it was.

“Kendra?” Beth said.

“The corpses,” Kendra whispered. “They’re positioned differently than they were in the crime-scene shots I saw.”

Sheila nodded.

“They were posed?” Beth asked.

“It’s more than that.” Kendra’s stomach churned as she studied the body positions. “These are military ground-force arm-and-hand signals.”

“Remind you of anyone?” Sheila said.

“Colby.” The battery-acid taste returned to her mouth as she spoke his name. “He decapitated his victims and positioned them to give us messages and taunt us. Some of the later ones even gave clues where and when his next victims would be killed.”

“Positioned … like this?” Beth asked.

“Yes.” Kendra pointed to the arrangement of the corpses’ arms. “Look. The woman’s right arm is raised over her head, palm out, elbow bent at a thirty-degree angle. That’s the ground-force call for attention.”

Beth looked queasy. “His message to the agents investigating the case?”

“That’s what it meant last time. As the case went on, the messages were directed more at me.”

Beth pointed to a male corpse with his right arm extended in front of him, hand tilted back. “What does that mean?”

Sheila answered the question. “It’s the sign for ‘Are you ready’?”

Kendra looked up at her. “That’s right. These hand signals were definitely Colby’s M.O. Where did you get these pictures?”

“I have a source.”

“I have sources, too,” Kendra said. “Very well placed ones. And the photos I saw of the scene didn’t look like this.”

“It’s because you saw the official crime-scene photos.”

Beth was gazing in bewilderment between the two women. “Are you saying that the officers on the scene were trying to hide the fact that these bodies might have been Colby’s victims? That they might have actually repositioned them before taking the official crime-scene photos?”

“I don’t know,” Sheila said. “What do you think, Kendra?”

Kendra stared at the photos for a long moment before glancing up. “I don’t understand this. Why would anyone want to hide actual proof?”

“I’ve been wondering the same thing. My investigation led me to you and the suspicions you’ve been tossing about.” Sheila gathered the photo printouts and placed them back into her folder. “No one else is willing to even entertain the idea that Colby is still alive.”

“I’d like copies of those.”

“That’s not possible.”

“Sure it is. Slide those over to me. I won’t tell anyone where I got them.”

Sheila pulled the folder closer to her. “It’s not me I’m worried about. I have to protect my source.”

“To hell with your source. There’s a killer out there.”

“Yes, and that’s why my source took such a risk to give me these. But I can’t let them out of my possession or even let anyone else see them. I had to get permission to show them to you.”

“Permission from whom?”

“Really, Kendra, you should realize I wouldn’t be at liberty to say. But in light of your suspicions about Colby, I thought you should know about these. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t mention these to anyone else at this point.”

Kendra stared with frustration at the folder, considering the prospect of grabbing it and running like hell to the elevator. Sheila tightened her grasp and lowered it to her lap, almost as if she’d read her mind.

Damn.

“Fine,” Kendra said. “No, it’s not fine. I won’t mention your name, but I won’t guarantee I won’t tell anyone that this cover-up exists.”

“I wish you wouldn’t.” She shrugged. “But I always understood the risk I was running by contacting you.”

“Tell your source I want to meet with him. Or her.”

“I really don’t think—”

“Just ask,” Kendra interrupted. “Get me a face-to-face meeting, and I’ll take it from there.”

Sheila shrugged. “Okay, I’ll ask. But I want something in return for all this. I need all the background on this case from your angle and your reasons for believing Colby is still alive.” She glanced at Beth. “And I want your word that your friend here isn’t going to—”

“Ask me for my word,” Beth said quietly. She had been listening with obvious fascination by the battle of wills between the two women. “Kendra is my friend, not my custodian.”

“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.”

He smiled. “You couldn’t have just brought me the photos?”

“Not an option. My source wouldn’t let me have them. My rotten drawing aside, do those poses mean anything to you?”

He stared at the drawings a moment longer. “I get it,” he said quietly. “Military signals … just like Colby’s victims.”

“And what’s more, they don’t appear this way in the official police crime photos. Just the photos I saw.”

“What, exactly, are you saying?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t know what the cops could possibly have to gain by rearranging the corpses to hide Colby’s possible involvement.”

“I don’t either,” Griffin said. “No reasonable person would. Careful how you tread here.”

“You’ve been telling me to be careful for months now.”

“And you haven’t been listening. It’s one thing to accuse the California Department of Corrections of botching an execution and allowing a serial killer to escape, but when you start hinting at a police conspiracy…”

Kendra dropped down in a straight-backed chair in front of Griffin’s desk. “I think I’ve been pretty low-key about Colby.”

“Depends on your definition of low-key.”

“Okay, as low-key as I can get.”

“In any case, Colby is dead.”

“I wish I could believe that.”

“Believe it.” Griffin circled around, and instead of sitting behind his desk, he took the seat next to Kendra as he did every time he was trying to show empathy or gently break bad news to one of his underlings.

She just found it annoying.

“Two different law-enforcement agencies investigated your claims,” Griffin said. “They couldn’t find any proof. And neither could you.”

“Colby had help on the outside. If you remember, I was there when Myatt, Colby’s psycho partner, took his last breath on Earth. I talked to him. I found his shopping list that included purchase of that zombie drug that would make Colby appear dead if administered. And we found actual traces of the substances that would make the plan possible.”

“Products of a delusional, diseased mind.”

“That diseased mind concocted plans that allowed him to kill half a dozen people while he was working to free Colby from that prison. He worshipped Colby and was the perfect copycat. He would have done anything to free him.”

“Which is why we took it seriously enough to investigate. Listen, if I thought Colby was really out there, I’d have every agent, every specialist, every secretary on the clock to hunt him down. Hell, even I would be out there pounding the pavement.”

“If you’d done all of that four months ago, we might have him now,” she said baldly.

“Tactful, as usual. You’ve been on the alert all this time, and it hasn’t brought you any closer.”

“He’s planning something.”

“So you keep telling us. But again, no actual proof.”

“I know how his mind works.”

“Worked. Past tense.”

“No one will be happier than I if you’re right. But I think he’s spent years laying the groundwork for this.”

“Laying the groundwork … from death row?”

“Other people have underestimated Eric Colby. Almost all of them are now dead.”

“Two of his victims were my own men. Believe me, I don’t need you to remind me.”

“Look, I don’t want it to be true. But that’s no reason to just look the other way.”