Текст книги "The Naked Eye"

Автор книги: Iris Johansen

Соавторы: Roy Johansen
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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

She sighed. “Okay.”

“Great.” Beth got to her feet. “So let’s see how we can go about manipulating that bastard, Colby.”

Kendra pushed back her chair. “Slow down. First, I have to see about manipulating Special Agent Griffin,” she said dryly. “And that’s not going to be easy.”

CHAPTER 7

“NO,” GRIFFIN SAID FLATLY. “I’M not going to interfere with local law enforcement. We have enough trouble maintaining harmonious relations.”

Kendra tried to hold on to her temper. She’d been trying to persuade him for the last ten minutes and gotten nowhere. “I’ve shown you that computer message from Colby. He killed Sheila Hunter, and he’s going to kill again.”

“And I’m sure that you’ll show that to the detective in charge, and he’ll add it to the evidence. It’s their case, not ours.” He shrugged. “And there’s no proof that message was from Colby. Copycat.”

“It’s not a copycat. He repeated the same words in that message he used to me when he was in prison.”

“Really? I’m sure there could be an explanation for that similarity. San Diego PD just has to find it.”

“Look, Griffin, I’m not going to disturb evidence. You know me better than that. Just let me go in and see what the bastard wants me to see.”

He just looked at her.

But he had an expression of sly satisfaction, and he hadn’t kicked her out of his office. Was he enjoying this? It was possible. Their relationship was often conflicted, and he’d never liked the fact that he couldn’t control her as he did his agents.

“I’m not going to beg you, Griffin. I’m sure you’d enjoy that, but it’s not going to happen.” She put her hands flat on his desk. “I’m just going to ask you what you want from me.”

“Why, I don’t know what you mean. We’re both professionals, and we’re merely having a difference of opinion.”

“What do you want?” she repeated.

He was silent, then nodded. “What any civilized professional requests to settle a dispute. Compromise. If I do you a favor, it’s only reasonable to expect a favor in return.”

“What kind of favor?” she asked warily.

He smiled. “I haven’t decided.”

“What?”

“I believe I’d like to tuck that favor away for a rainy day.”

“And let you hold it over my head for the foreseeable future?”

“That’s about it.” He leaned back in his chair. “After all, it’s not as if I’m going to ask you to do anything illegal. Considering my position, that would go without saying.”

“Would it? I don’t know what you’ll ask me.”

“No, you don’t. And that may bother you a little. But no more than the discomfort you’ve caused me on occasion. And this is going to be something of a headache. I’ll have to make a call and back it up with my presence.” He looked at his watch. “I have an appointment. But I could cancel it and call the superintendent in charge of the Hunter case. Should I do it?”

She hesitated. If she made the promise, she would be bound to keep it. She hated the idea of being obligated to Griffin.

She wanted to sock him.

She turned toward the door. “Make the call.”

*   *   *

THE EARLY-MORNING SUN SHIMMERED ON the San Diego Bay as Kendra and Beth drove slowly toward Marina Cortez. They had stopped for coffee at Starbucks when Kendra had joined Beth after talking to Griffin. She had wanted to give Griffin plenty of time to get his ducks in a row. It should have been a beautiful drive, but Kendra couldn’t shake the horrible image that had greeted her and Lynch there the other night.

It was now quieter, with a single TV news van parked nearby and a reporter from the local Spanish-language station doing his stand-up on the dock. The houseboat was still cordoned off with yellow police tape, and four men in their shirtsleeves were waiting nearby.

Waiting for her.

“Do you know them?” Beth asked.

“Yes. Three of them are cops, the other is FBI Special Agent Michael Griffin. He’s the man I had to stop to see at FBI headquarters downtown. He’s the only reason I’m being allowed in here today.”

“Good of him to show up,” Beth said. “I’m surprised. You were looking pretty grim when you came back to the car after seeing him.”

“I was feeling pretty grim.”

“But evidently he decided to come and smooth things over for you.”

“That’s the way it looks, doesn’t it? More likely to make sure I play nice with the local cops. He stuck his neck out for me, and he wants to keep me from abusing the privilege.”

“Will it work?”

“We’ll know soon.”

They parked and walked up the narrow dock to Sheila Hunter’s houseboat. Kendra extended her hand to Stokes. “Detective, I do appreciate this.”

Stokes shook her hand. “Thank my boss. Or my boss’s boss.” He grimaced. “Or whoever your FBI associate here strong-armed.”

“Strong-armed?” Griffin smiled. “Is that really how we describe cooperation between our law-enforcement agencies? I merely made a request.”

Stokes gestured to the two other men. “I believe you’ve met Detectives Ketchum and Starger. They’ve gone over every inch of this place since the night of the murder. If you would care to tell them what you’re looking for, I’m sure they would be happy to—”

“I have no idea what I’m looking for,” Kendra said.

The detectives exchanged a look. “No idea at all?”

“No.”

“Okay.” Stokes’s tone was sour. “So much for cooperation between law-enforcement agencies.”

Kendra turned toward Griffin. She wasn’t sure how much information he’d given to their superior, and she wasn’t anxious to share what probably would sound like a wild-eyed conspiracy theory.

“Look,” Griffin said. “Dr. Michaels promised to share any observations she makes while in Sheila Hunter’s houseboat. That was my deal with your superintendent, and she will honor that. Fair enough?”

Stokes motioned toward Beth. “Who’s this?”

“Her name is Beth Avery. I brought her to take notes.”

Stokes turned toward Griffin. “Was she part of your deal, too?”

“I suppose she is now.”

Stokes handed Kendra, Beth, and Griffin pairs of latex evidence gloves. “If you wish to touch something, call one of us over to supervise.”

Kendra snapped on her gloves. “No problem, I have a feeling you won’t be too far away.”

“We won’t. This crime scene is still under the jurisdiction of the San Diego PD.”

Griffin nodded. “And I’m sure you’ll keep reminding us of that.”

“Only if it becomes absolutely necessary. It’s up to you,” Stokes smiled. “Ready?”

Am I ready, Colby?

What have you got to show me in there?

You must have been here in this very spot, plotting, planning.

Killing.

She nodded. “Yes, I’m ready.”

They stepped off the dock and walked through the doorway of the boxy one-story houseboat. Kendra was immediately struck by the luxurious interior that eschewed any hint of a nautical theme. The floors were covered by intricately patterned tile that looked like something out of a Beverly Hills estate. The lighting was soft, with several small ceiling spots highlighting framed art deco travel posters for European ski destinations.

Beth stepped around a large brown leather sofa. “Nice place. Very nice. I can see why you thought an online journalist wouldn’t be able to afford digs like this, Kendra.”

“I told you, it’s registered to an executive of her media company.” Kendra’s eyes darted around the room. “Strange.”

“What?” Beth asked.

“There are a few objects in here that have been wiped clean. Recently, in the last day or two.” She turned toward Stokes. “I know forensics wouldn’t have done it. Your men wouldn’t have done it either, would they?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but our department doesn’t provide maid service for murder victims.”

She pointed to a guitar propped up on a black metal stand in the corner. “That guitar has definitely been wiped down. Its glossy finish would show every fingerprint and each speck of dust, but there are none.” She pointed to a ceramic cigarette lighter resting on the countertop that divided the kitchenette from the living room. “Same story with that lighter.”

“Lighter?” Beth turned toward the police officers. “Did she smoke?”

“No.” Kendra answered before they could reply. “I would have picked up the odor on her, but someone was in the habit of smoking an occasional cigar in here. And the glass tabletop and the back of the chairs do have fingerprints. No one was concerned about wiping those clean.”

Detective Starger spoke for the first time. “We lifted quite a few prints from the tabletop and elsewhere in here.”

“Good,” Kendra said. “I’d like to know what the story is with that guitar. Especially since she didn’t play it.”

“How do you know?” Griffin asked.

“Anyone who plays an acoustic guitar with any regularity develops calluses. I have them. It’s actually necessary to play well. Sheila Hunter’s fingertips were smooth, and her nails long and beautifully manicured.”

“Maybe a boyfriend?” Beth suggested.

“Maybe.” Kendra turned toward Stokes. “Was she in a relationship?”

“Not as far as we’ve been able to determine. We’re still exploring that possibility.”

Kendra scanned the kitchen. “Everything seems to be in place in here.”

“There were two glasses in the sink,” Stokes said. “Both had Sheila Hunter’s prints and her prints alone.”

Kendra nodded and turned back toward the living room. “Any sign of the area rug?”

“Area rug?”

“About six by eight feet, red and cream with gold medallions. It was in the middle of the living room, under the couch and coffee table.”

Detectives Starger and Ketchum exchanged a look before turning back to face her. “There was no rug here,” Ketchum said.

“Actually, there was. The only question is whether it was removed before or after Sheila Hunter’s murder.”

Stokes crossed his arms across his chest. “And how would you know that?”

“I saw it.”

“You’ve been in here before?”

Oh, Lord, now they were suspicious of her again. “No, never.”

“Then how—”

“You saw it, too,” she said impatiently. “All of you did. You just weren’t paying attention.” Kendra walked back toward the entrance, where the wall was covered by a collage of framed photographs. She pointed to a group shot of Sheila and her friends in the living room wearing oversized football jerseys. Some were sitting cross-legged on the rug, others were standing around it. “Right here.”

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.”

“I’m positive. And it was more than that. I know the way he thinks, the way he expresses himself. That was Colby on the other side of that conversation. I’m positive.”

“I know you believe that, Kendra.”

He was patronizing her. “But you don’t.”

“I’m a pragmatic man. Truthfully, I’d like to believe you. It’s just not in my makeup to do it.” He smiled. “The feeling of frustration you’re experiencing would miraculously evaporate if you could just find some proof.” He nodded back at the houseboat. “And you sure as hell didn’t find it in there.”

“Maybe I did, and just don’t know it yet.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re one stubborn woman, do you know that?”

“Yes. It’s a curse. At the moment, a damned annoying curse.” She turned to face him. “Oh, and I have another favor to ask.”

“Of course, you do.”

“It’s not one that will cause you any inconvenience as this one did.” Her lips twisted. “So you shouldn’t demand a return favor.”

“I’m listening.”

“Your office still has copies of Colby’s prison records … His visitor and call logs, and everything he left behind in his cell.”

“Yes. We got a court order after his execution. There was some thought that there might be some victims that we didn’t know about yet, so we wanted to cover our bases.”

“I need to know if Colby was in touch with anyone with sophisticated computer skills. There was some FBI analysis done on those logs, wasn’t there?”

“Some.”

“Identifying his contacts, that kind of thing?”

“Again, some. But it hasn’t been a high priority.”

“I understand. But it would be a huge help if I could get that information.”

He lifted his shoulder in half shrug. “I’ll see what I can do. You’re right, no real inconvenience connected to this favor, but you’re still running up a serious tab in that department.” He turned and strolled toward his car.

“It’s like pulling teeth to deal with him, isn’t it?” Beth murmured. “Will he do it?”

“Probably.”

Beth turned back to Kendra. “What now?”

“Let’s go back to my place. I want to take a look at the video you shot.”

They climbed into Kendra’s car and drove down Harbor Village Drive. They hadn’t even gone half a mile when Kendra saw Stokes’s unmarked car, flashers pulsing, turned perpendicular to the flow of traffic and blocking one of the two lanes. Starger and Ketchum were now standing in the road and waving cars through the roadblock.

Kendra pulled up to them. “What’s going on?”

Stokes approached her. “I’m afraid this is all for you, Dr. Michaels. We need you to join us for questioning at the police headquarters on Broadway Street.”

“What?” Her gaze wandered around the roadblock in bewilderment. “Why?”

“We can discuss it there.”

“No, we can discuss it now. What’s changed in the last five minutes?”

“Once we’re at the station, we’ll go into it in detail and—”

“We can discuss it now, or I’m not going anywhere.”

He glanced up at the growing line of cars behind her. “Fine,” he snapped. “We checked in on the lab results for the hair we found in Sheila Hunter’s shower drain. They extracted the DNA, and we got a hit on the CODIS database.”

“Good. Whose DNA is it?”

“Yours, Dr. Michaels.”

Kendra stared at him, not sure she had heard him correctly. A car horn blasted in the line behind her. “You’re trying to tell me that—”

“Your DNA. Your hair. Found in a place you just told me you’ve never been before.”

She turned away, trying to suppress the sudden nausea that had hit her.

I’VE ALREADY BROUGHT THE FIGHT TO YOU, KENDRA … YOU JUST DON’T KNOW IT YET.

“Dr. Michaels?”

She finally looked back up. “Yes.”

“We’re going to need that statement immediately. Come with us, please,”

“Are you arresting me?”

“We just need to talk to you.” His lips tightened. “And we need that statement.”

“Kendra.” Beth wore a stunned expression. “What the hell is happening?”

“It’ll be okay, Beth.”

“You heard him. You don’t have to go with him.”

“Of course, I do. We need to figure this out.” She shifted into park. “Take the car. I’ll ride with them and call you when I’m finished.”

“No way. We’ll both go.”

Kendra was too upset to deal with comforting and explaining to Beth right now. All she wanted was to get this over. “That’s not a good idea,” she said impatiently.

“I’m going with you.”

“Why? So you can be my lawyer? You’re not qualified in that—”

“No,” Beth said gently. “So I can be your friend.”

Kendra immediately felt terrible for snapping at her. “I’m sorry, Beth. You’re a great friend. But, trust me, it’s best that I talk to them alone.” She opened the car door and got out. “I’ll call you when I’m done.”

Kendra rode in silence in Stokes’s car for the short ride to police headquarters on Broadway and Fourth. They didn’t discuss the case again until they arrived at the small third-floor interrogation room and were met by Detectives Starger and Ketchum.

Stokes placed a bottled water on the table in front of her. “Anything else I can get you?”

She shook her head.

“Full disclosure, this conversation is being recorded, as is any conversation that takes place in this room.” He pointed to the video camera glowing red in the corner.

She smiled. “Funny that you say ‘conversation’ when the sign on the door says ‘interrogation.’”

“Tomato, To-mahto.” He motioned for her to sit.

“Good one.”

They sat around the small wooden table, where she noticed someone had managed to carve the words EAT ME, COP with the tip of a ballpoint pen.

“Thank you for coming, Dr. Michaels,” Starger started. “In light of this development, we thought we should get you on record discussing your knowledge and personal contact with Sheila Hunter in the days preceding her murder.”

Kendra looked down at the manila folder on Starger’s lap, which was open to a photo of the shower drain. A clump of wet hair was caught in the grate.

Her hair.

She nodded. “Sure. Whatever you need.”

“Okay, when was the first time you ever entered Sheila Hunter’s premises at the houseboat?”

“At about ten thirty this morning.”

“You’re positive of that?”

“It was true this morning, and it’s true now.”

“Fine. And when was the first time you met Ms. Hunter?”

“Thursday evening. I’d never even heard her name before that day. She contacted me about a story she was writing.”

“Please tell us about that meeting.”

Kendra described their meeting at the W bar, the online news story that appeared a day later, and their confrontation in the plaza.

“And when did you see her next?”

“When she was dead and bleeding, hanging from the mast of her houseboat.”

Stokes nodded. “You were there just a few minutes after we were. How did you find out about her murder?”

“Adam Lynch came to my condo and told me. He drove me to the scene.”

“And how did he know?” Ketchum asked.

“He has friends in law enforcement everywhere, so there isn’t much he doesn’t know. But you’ll have to ask him.”

“You can be sure we will.” Ketchum’s tone was biting.

None of the courtesy that Starger had shown her, Kendra thought.

Good cop, bad cop.

That was clearly how it was going to be played out.

If she permitted it.

She would try to hold her temper and let them do their thing. It was a bad situation, and the more accommodating she was, the more likely she was to get out of it.

Or at least mitigate the consequences.

“Time for the million-dollar question,” Stokes said. He pointed to the crime-scene photo of the shower drain. “How did your hair get into the shower?”

“It was placed there. Obviously.”

The detectives shared a quick glance. “Okay,” Stokes said. “Placed by whom?”

“Eric Colby.”

“Of course,” Ketchum said sarcastically. “But can we be a little more real?”

Don’t rise to the bait.

“He couldn’t be more real.”

“Okay,” Starger said. “We’ll get back to that later. Let’s go back to Sheila Hunter. Will you repeat what you told us about your first meeting?”

“Why should I do—”

Patience.

She told them again.

And again.

They dug into every minute detail, then came back and did it again.

Hours passed, and the same questions kept coming. Her answers became more clipped and sharp, but she didn’t lose it.

Until Ketchum leaned forward, and said, “Why not be honest? We know this is a pack of lies.”

She blew up. “You know nothing of the sort. You’re just trying to wear me out, hoping to get lucky and find a fallacy in my statement. I’ve put up with it, but if that’s the way you’re going to speak to me, then we’re done here.”

Ketchum shook his head. “We’ll tell you when you’re done.”

“Actually, no. Unless you’re prepared to arrest me, which I know you aren’t, or you wouldn’t be trying to give me this poor man’s third degree. This conversation is taking place by virtue of a Kendra Michaels grant. A grant of my time, and of my willingness to put up with your questions when I could be out there finding this person who will kill again.” She looked Ketchum in eye. “Plus, I don’t like being judged or called a liar by a man who’s clearly cheating on his wife.”

Ketchum reacted with a start. “What? What the hell makes you think that—” He looked at Starger and Stokes and started to sputter. “This is– This is crazy. Are we gonna just sit here and—”

“You know, I’ve just decided you’re done, Detective Ketchum,” Kendra said. “You can watch the rest of this conversation from the next room or wherever this camera feed goes. If you don’t leave this room in the next thirty seconds, then I will.”

Ketchum stared at her incredulously. “You’re crazy. Do you believe we’d allow a person of interest in a murder case to dictate the way we—”

“Only if you want the conversation to continue.” Kendra grabbed her sweater from the chair back. “Twenty-five seconds. Your choice.”

Another few seconds of silence. Stokes jerked his head toward the door. “Ketchum, take a break. It’s gotten a little tense in here.”

Ketchum looked at them all as if they were insane. He stood and stalked out of the room.

After the door slammed shut behind him, Starger leaned toward Kendra. “Just out of curiosity, how did you know he’s cheating on his—”

“Let’s not get into that right now,” Stokes interrupted, nervously eyeing the camera. “Just a few more questions, Dr. Michaels.”

“I believe that you’ve learned all you can from Kendra.” Griffin walked into the interrogation room. “It’s time to wrap this up.”

“I think we have to make that decision,” Stokes said. “And you’re not invited in here.”

“And I was politely keeping out of your way for the last hour. It was very interesting observing your interrogation techniques.” He looked back at the door through which Ketchum had exited. “Or lack of it. But it appears Dr. Michaels is getting impatient. So I decided to step in and try to effect a compromise.”

“Oh, yes, he’s very good at compromises,” Kendra said with irony.

Griffin ignored her comment. “She’s right, you’re not ready to arrest her, and it must have come to your attention that you’re not going to get a confession out of her. I’m not sure you have any conviction that she really had anything to do with the killing. You just don’t have anywhere else to go, and it’s not making you look good.”

“Her hair in the grate was—”

“A good reason to bring her in. I would have done the same. But we all know that DNA can be planted. Anyone with the abilities of Dr. Michaels would have known to safeguard herself and removed it from that grate. The FBI is assuming that it has to be a plant.”

“And the San Diego PD isn’t any too certain,” Stokes said.

“And that’s where the compromise comes in,” Griffin said. “Let us have the strand of hair, and I’ll have our labs fast-track any evidence about that DNA and any other evidence you bring to us on the case.”

“We already have an ID on the hair. Why should we go any further?”

“Because if you don’t search further, then you’ll look like asses if we turn up something that makes her look like a heroine victimized by the hometown cops,” Griffin added softly. “And we’re very good at what we do. Let us help you tie this case up.”

Stokes’s gaze narrowed on his face. “Why are you doing this? She’s not one of your agents.”

“In the interest of justice. In the spirit of cooperation. You name it, Stokes.”

He hesitated. “We remain in control of the investigation?”

“Of course.”

Stokes slowly nodded. “Compromise is a good thing. Particularly when I come out on top.” He pushed back his chair. “I was close to releasing her anyway. I can always pick her up again.” He smiled at Griffin. “And I made a deal that the department will appreciate. We don’t often get the chance to give orders to the FBI.”