Dean turned to see what had grabbed her attention. “Quite a pileup.”
She nodded, her gaze narrowed on the screen. A helicopter shot of the scene showed that the roadway was covered with work lights, police cars, and fire trucks, and was atop a tall white bridge.
She suddenly straightened in her chair.
Then she stood up and stepped closer to the television. Dean quickly joined her at the bar.
“The Cabrillo State Bridge,” she said, studying the overview that the helicopter shot offered.
“The one that goes toward the zoo?”
She nodded. “Those idiots. They’re treating it like an accident.”
He turned toward her. “Why wouldn’t they?”
“Because it’s not an accident.”
Dean laughed, but cut it short when he realized she was serious.
“Um, why do you think that?”
Kendra was still staring at the television and shook her head in disgust. “They’re blowing it. I can’t believe it. They’re totally blowing it.”
“I still don’t get how—”
Kendra muttered a curse beneath her breath. “I wish we’d never seen this damn thing.”
“I’m starting to wish that, too,” he said dryly. “Want me to ask the bartender to change the channel?”
“No.”
“Come on, let’s go back and sit down. I’ll tell you all about myself.” He tried to take her arm, but she remained planted at the bar.
“I know quite a bit already,” she said absently, her gaze still locked on the television. “I know you’ve been to prison.”
He froze. “What?”
Her eyes narrowed on the screen when another camera angle came on the screen. “When you were younger.”
He was silent. “Nobody knows that.”
“You grew up in Florida, then spent some time in the Northeast. Maybe your college years? Are you an Ivy Leaguer?”
“You Googled me?”
“What? No, life’s too short.” She swore again. “I can’t believe those damned cops don’t see what’s right in front of them.”
“Let’s get back to me for a second. Does your mother know about the prison thing? Because if this got out—”
“Don’t sweat it. I didn’t know until two minutes ago. I was just looking you over to see what Mom saw in you, and it popped up.”
“What else ‘popped’ up?”
“You’re a motorcycle enthusiast. That’s where a lot of your time and money goes. Not just riding, but the tinkering. You have a Harley Sportster. I’m thinking you did some degreasing on it today.”
“Jesus.”
“I take that as a confirmation.”
“Either you were spying on me, or you’re psychic.”
“Neither.” She was still concentrating on the screen. “Fools. Not one homicide detective there. Not one. All accident investigators.”
Dean smiled. “Your mother said you were very observant and not to let it rattle me. I’m just now realizing what she meant by that. And, for the record, you did rattle me.”
“Sorry. Mom always tells me to wait and let things just come out in conversation. I was distracted.”
“Don’t be sorry. I like it. I’d always heard that blind people develop their other senses to an amazing degree. I guess you’re living proof. But it must be more than that.”
“I’m a little obsessive. No, a lot obsessive. I now treasure everything that I can see. And I won’t let go of what I learned from my other senses when I was blind. I don’t take anything for granted.”
“I’ll accept that answer. But you have to tell me how you knew all those things about me.”
“Sure.” She pointed to the television screen. “But first I need you to drive me there.”
“To the accident?”
“It’s not an accident, remember?”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
He was silent a moment. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those fetishists who get off on—”
“Someone needs to talk to them before they break down the scene and destroy evidence.” She turned and looked him in the eye. “I walked here. Either you’re giving me a ride there, or I’m calling a cab.”
“So our date is over?”
“It’s only over if you don’t give me a ride.”
Dean looked back at the television, where the news copter was circling the platoon of emergency workers and their flashing vehicles. He shook his head. “Got to be the weirdest date of my life.”
* * *
KENDRA’S CELL PHONE RANG WHEN they were on the road only ten minutes. She made a face when she glanced at the ID. “Mom. I was half expecting this.”