“Hello, young lady.” He frowned. “I was hoping to see Kendra Michaels. I know it’s late, but I thought she might still be around.”
Reade smiled. “She and the rest of the team are out in the field tonight. I got stuck heading up things here. Good thing, or I would have missed you.”
“Yeah.”
Her brows rose. “Won’t I do?”
“I guess so. It’s just that Kendra and me sort of … bonded. We’re kinda on the same wavelength.”
“Try me. Can’t hurt, can it?”
“No.” He shrugged. “But don’t be too sure it was a good thing that you stayed around to see me. I might be just wasting your time.” Dillingham held up his large sketch pad. “Kendra asked me to draw up some alternate sketches of that psychopath she saw last week. She wanted me to research all the different ways someone might disguise themselves without its looking like a disguise, you know? Fake teeth, nostril inserts, cheek and jaw liners … Based on what she gave me, I made up a few dozen alternates.”
Reade took the pad and flipped through the pages. “Amazing. You do great work, Mr. Dillingham. I’ve seen some of your sketches before, but it’s wonderful to finally meet the man behind—”
She froze.
This had to be some kind of sick joke.
Dillingham touched her arm. “Agent Reade?”
“I don’t believe it,” she whispered. She stared at the sketch for a good fifteen seconds longer before looking up.
This was no joke. Dillingham seemed completely mystified by her reaction.
“I need you to come upstairs with me. I want you to tell me exactly how you came to draw this.”
“Uh, sure.”
She looked at the sketch again. A sickening sense of dread was rising within her. “But first I have some phone calls to make.”
Sharp Grossmont Hospital
La Mesa
KENDRA STEPPED OUTSIDE THE HOSPITAL with her phone pressed against her ear after passing two nurses who had testily pointed to the NO CELL PHONES signs in the corridors. She had been trying without success to connect with Lynch when a call came for her. She hit the talk switch.
“Dr. Michaels?” It was a British-accented voice that she didn’t recognize.
“Yes?”
“We haven’t met yet, but my name is Bobby Chatsworth. How are you this evening?”
Ugh. “Mr. Chatsworth, this really isn’t a good time.”
“Please don’t hang up, Dr. Michaels. I know what’s happened. We’re in San Diego, and we’ve been monitoring the police bands.”
“Why would you be doing that?”
“Frankly, to get some footage of you in action. In lieu of an actual interview with you. There’s the very real possibility your killer may strike again, and if you arrive on the scene, we’d like very much to be here on the spot.”
“My mother and friend are in the hospital, Mr. Chatsworth. Your show is the furthest thing from my mind right now.”
“Naturally. But I wonder if you might grant us just a few minutes of your time. A few quick sound bites, and we’ll be off to England and out of your hair forever.”
“Mr. Chatsworth, I don’t—”
“You have to admit, it’s tempting.” His voice now came not from the phone, but behind her.
She whirled around. Bobby Chatsworth, all beard and glasses, smiled as he walked across the nearly empty parking lot. He lowered the phone from his ear. “What do you say, Dr. Michaels?”
Kendra put down her phone. “Unbelievable. You’re persistent, I’ll say that for you. Did you bring your crew here, too?”
“They’re five minutes away, getting rooms at the Old Country Lodge down the highway. You can join me down there, or I can bring them here. Either way, after the next half hour, you’ll never have to see any of us ever again.”
She didn’t need this, Kendra thought impatiently. She opened her lips to refuse him once again.
She suddenly went still.
Oh, God. Of course.
She felt icy fingers run up her spine to her neck.
Don’t let it show. Don’t let it show.
Stay cool.
“Have your crew here in twenty minutes, Mr. Chatsworth. I’ll give you five minutes in front of the camera.” Kendra turned and headed up the walkway to the hospital side entrance.
“Very gracious of you,” Chatsworth said. “But before we do that…”
A cloth snapped in front of her nose and mouth.
She tried to wrestle free.
But Chatsworth was strong. Too strong.
Not Chatsworth, she thought, panicked.
Myatt.
He whispered into her ear. “Nice try, Kendra. But you have a terrible poker face.”
Darkness.