Sight Unseen(29)

One of the officers waved his hand over the corpse’s grotesquely swollen neck. “What’s this? He wasn’t in the water that long.”

Kendra leaned closer. “He had a reaction to the Vecuronium Bromide.”

The cop looked at her. “What?”

“It’s an anesthetic. The killer’s a copycat, and Vecuronium Bromide was the drug of choice. I’m sure this man has it in his system.”

Most of the officers were glancing at each other and obviously had no knowledge of the killer and his emerging pattern. Their expressions all conveyed some variant of “what is this crazy bitch talking about?”

Never mind them. She carefully scanned the corpse. Could Gil Jillette tell her anything else?

Come on, don’t let that bastard get away with doing this to you. Help me. Show me.

But she couldn’t tell much that was different. Just a confirmation of what she already knew. The name badge had been put on by the killer, not Jillette. The pin had missed the stitch-reinforced hole and pierced the shirt just outside the ring. The shirt was still wet, but even so, Kendra could see this was a mistake Jillette never made himself.

Anything else?

Maybe one thing. A rawness around his lips, with some hairs pulled out of his moustache …

Her head swiftly lifted. She said urgently to the circle of police officers, “Hurry. Go search the beach. Try to find a large adhesive bandage or maybe a strip of duct tape. If you do, bag it as evidence. It was probably placed over his mouth, then torn off. It may have the killer’s DNA. Understand?”

“Go,” Gates said sharply to his men. “Move it!”

The policemen scattered like leaves in the wind.

Kendra watched them for a moment but then shook her head to clear it. She was suddenly feeling weak and foggy. She’d been energized by the search for Jillette, but every ounce of her energy had now drained away. It was as if the evening’s events had come rushing back to her, pummeling her emotionally and physically.

“You look like you’re ready to collapse.” Griffin was behind her. “Now will you go to the hospital?”

“No.”

“Kendra, dammit, you’re—”

“I’m going home. I need to get my head around everything that’s happened tonight.” She glanced at him. “And don’t you ever phone Lynch and tell him that he’s to interfere. That was completely ineffectual, and I won’t tolerate it.”

He shrugged. “I thought it was worth a shot. We still need a full statement about what happened back at the house.”

“I gave a detective my statement, and Bill Dillingham has done the sketch. That’s enough for now. Who has Corrine Harvey’s clothes that I took from the scene?”

“Our forensics guys took it. It’s already in the lab.”

“Good. Listen, I’ll come to your office tomorrow. Anyone else who wants to hash this out with me can join us.”

“Okay. But just know I’m putting a guard outside your condo effective immediately.” He raised his hand as if anticipating her objection. “You don’t get a choice in the matter. There’s a serial killer on the loose, and you’re the only one who has seen him. That makes you extremely valuable to this case. I can’t afford to lose you.”

“How sentimental. I’m getting all teary-eyed here.”

“I figured it’s the only reason you’d go along with it,” he said gruffly.

Kendra smiled wearily as she turned away from Griffin. For once, he was displaying all the signs of being a decent human being. It was as if the rough edges had, at least momentarily, been sanded away. “Actually … you’re right. That makes perfect sense. So who’s going to give me a ride back to my car?”

* * *



“IT WAS A PLEASURE TO MEET YOU, Kendra. Don’t forget about the mole…”

She opened her eyes with a start, her heart pounding.

Dammit.

It had been another restless night. This was the third time she’d had that dream, always ending with that psycho in the police uniform turning toward her and smiling. But instead of texting her his message, he was saying it aloud, taunting her in the cruel whisper she’d heard on the phone.

She rolled over in bed and glanced at the clock—7:45 A.M.

Enough.

She swung her feet over the edge of the bed and had just started to get up when her phone rang. No ID. She picked it up from her bedside table. “Hello?”

“Ms. Michaels, this is Agent Nelson. I’m standing watch outside your unit right now, and there’s a woman here who says she’s your—”

“Mother, dammit.”

Kendra could hear her mother’s voice shouting and haranguing the poor man, both through the phone and through the two closed doors that separated her from the building hallway.