Kendra pulled Zoey close and shielded her from the creepy spectacle. “It’s okay, honey. It’s all right.”
The mimes approached them, putting on cheerful faces that were probably meant to comfort the girl, but only appeared more weird and frightening.
Kendra leaned close to the mimes and pointed up the embarcadero. “Take that shit somewhere else,” she hissed. “Now!”
Zoey was crying. Her mother, Danica, who had been watching behind a vendor cart, ran toward them. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.” Danica held her daughter close. “Nothing to be afraid about. Everything’s okay.”
“I’m sorry,” Kendra mouthed.
Danica nodded as she guided her daughter toward the parking lot.
Kendra watched them, her fists clenching helplessly.
Dammit.
One step forward, two steps back.
She stood there until Zoey and Danica disappeared from view.
“Can you blame her?”
That voice. That all-too-familiar voice. “Adam Lynch.” She turned around to face him.
It was Lynch, all right. Powerful, sexy, dynamic. And he was wearing that movie-star smile that probably melted most women’s hearts but just pissed her off. “Hello, Kendra. Good to see you.”
Lynch was dressed in slacks, loafers, button-down collar shirt, and a tan jacket. He stood out from the shorts-and-T-shirt crowd who currently inhabited the place. But then he always stood out wherever he was, she thought. It wasn’t only the appearance but the aura of magnetism and toughness that he emitted. “Hello, Lynch. My, my, what a surprise.”
“Surprise?”
“You know, this doesn’t seem like the kind of place you’d go for an afternoon out.”
“Really? And where would you see me?”
“Hmm. Maybe playing golf with your fellow government agents, drinking disgusting whiskey drinks, trading war stories, comparing notes on your favorite ammo clips.”
He smiled again. “I’d be offended if that wasn’t pretty much how I spent last Saturday. You should join us sometime.”
“I work on Saturdays.”
“Yes, I noticed. Things were going really well with that girl until the mimes showed up.” He shrugged. “I could take ’em out for you. You know, for old times’ sake.”
This made her smile. “There was a time I would have thought you were serious.”
“There was a time I would have been serious. But that was before you knew me. I’ve mellowed.”
“Not likely.” It had been almost a year since she had last seen Adam Lynch. He was a former FBI agent who lately had been working as a freelance operative of choice for a variety of officials in the U.S. Intelligence community. Lynch had recently recruited her for a case that, although overall successful, reminded her how grim and gut-wrenching that line of work could be. She had no desire for a return engagement.
Lynch leaned against a lamppost. “I heard about your show on the bridge last night.”
“My show? Is that what they’re calling it?”
“It’s what I’m calling it. I wish I’d been there. I love watching you in action with all pistons firing.”
Kendra nodded. He was wearing that infuriatingly charming smile again. It annoyed her that she could see the appeal even if she fought against it. “Why are you here, Lynch? Why in the hell are you spying on me?”
“‘Spying’ is such a nasty word. It implies a nefarious purpose, which couldn’t be further from the truth.”
“Oh, my money is definitely on nefarious. It’s in your DNA.”
“I wasn’t spying. I was waiting for an opportunity to speak to you. I didn’t want to interrupt your session. I know how important your work is to you.”
“It’s everything.”
“I read about your study in the New England Journal of Medicine,” he said. “Your music-therapy techniques are being adopted for autism patients.”
“It’s all about helping people make connections with the outside world. Whether it’s autism or Alzheimer’s, music is often the way to reach people and bridge those gulfs. I’ve been designing protocols to assess the effectiveness of various techniques. It’s a young science, but we’ve made a lot of progress.”
“But you did manage to find time to join the Eve Duncan case. I read the file. Amazing investigative work, by the way.”
“I only did that because Eve is a good friend. She needed my help.”
“You helped save her life. And probably a lot of other lives.”
She gestured impatiently. “Why are you here, Lynch?”
“You were right. That accident scene on the bridge last night was staged.”