Obsession (24 page)

“Close enough.”

“You do realize that we’re already late, don’t you?” Kendra asked, glancing down at her watch. “And I don’t understand why we had to drive across town to go to church if I’m wearing a disguise.”

“Just being cautious,” Charlie said, pushing open his car door. He circled around to pull her door open for her and lowered his voice. “If we go in after the meeting has started, no one can ask us who we are.”

“Good thinking.”

“Come on.” Charlie took her hand in his and led her through the outer doors and then into the back of the chapel. The opening hymn was just ending when they took their seats in one of the back rows.

Kendra looked down at their hands, at the way Charlie had linked his fingers through hers. She felt an incredible warmth spread through her. She couldn’t remember the last time she had gone to church with anyone or even had someone to sit with. When she was on tour, she attended a different ward each week and rarely had time to attend more than sacrament meeting.

Except for her visits with her grandparents and the two or three times a year when she and her sister were together, church was always a solitary pursuit. People often recognized her when she attended, their reactions varying from young girls pointing her out to someone taking the time to welcome her and exchange introductions. Still, those introductions typically took place after sacrament meeting concluded, after she had sat through the meeting alone.

When Charlie released her hand and stretched his arm across the back of her seat, she leaned against him. Her lips curved, and she wondered what it would be like to have someone by her side like this week after week.

* * *

“This is absurd.” Sterling Blake glared at Detective Dan Eadelton. “You come here asking me ridiculous questions about my social calendar when my daughter is in danger?”

“I wouldn’t ask these questions if they weren’t important,” Dan said with, what he considered, admirable patience. “And I need the backstage passes you had to your daughter’s last concert.”

“I already told you, we didn’t use them.”

“Yes, sir. I understand that, but I need to verify that they are still in your possession,” he insisted. “Whoever planted the explosives at your daughter’s concert gained access somehow. We are tracking down everyone who had a backstage pass to narrow down where security could have been breached.”

“I’ll go get them,” Monica Blake said as she turned and left the room. She returned a moment later holding two bright blue laminated passes the size of large index cards. “Here you go.”

“How much longer will it be before Kendra can come back home?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not privy to that information. All I know is that the FBI wants to keep her in protective custody as long as she is agreeable. Our evidence continues to suggest that she is the next intended target.”

Sterling shook his head, clearly annoyed. “For all I know, she was forced into protective custody.”

Dan’s jaw clenched. “I find that highly unlikely. The FBI doesn’t force anyone into protective custody.”

Monica Blake crossed the room and put a comforting hand on her husband’s arm. “Detective Eadelton, I’m sure you can understand that my husband and I are concerned. Other than one phone call right after the incident at Kendra’s concert, we haven’t had any assurances of her well-being, other than what we have been told by others.”

“I do understand your concern.”

Frustration vibrated off of Sterling. “Have you made any progress with your investigation?”

“Yes, we have.” He nodded and held up the two passes. “In addition to these, we are pursuing several other promising leads. I assure you, we are doing absolutely everything within our power to identify and stop the man after your daughter, but we need your cooperation and your patience.”

“I’m afraid patience is something I don’t have a large supply of, especially when my daughter is in danger.”

“I understand that, sir,” Dan said. He took a step toward the door. “I will certainly contact you as soon as we know anything further.”

Sterling gave him a curt nod, and Dan turned and left the room.

* * *

“Thanks for taking me to church,” Kendra said as soon as they walked in the front door. “It was so nice getting out for a change.”

“You’re welcome.” Charlie fought back a grin as Kendra immediately started fiddling with the wig so she could pull it off. “You didn’t want to stay a brunette?”

She turned and glared at him, but humor was in her eyes. “No.”

“Well, take good care of that wig. You’ll need it for church next week.” Charlie led the way into the living room. He picked up a Styrofoam wig stand from off the coffee table and held it out to Kendra.

Kendra settled the wig on the stand and then combed her hair with her fingers so it fell in soft waves around her face. “Don’t you think people will get suspicious if we slip into church every week during the opening hymn and then leave during the closing hymn?”

“We’ll go to a different building next week.” Charlie shrugged out of his suit jacket and laid it over the back of a chair. “We don’t want to fall into any specific pattern, or we might get noticed.”

“I guess that makes sense.” Kendra sat down on the couch and picked up her guitar that was leaning against it. She pulled the guitar into her lap and rested her arm on it, her eyes landing on Charlie’s holster. “Do you always have to wear that?”

“I’m supposed to have my weapon with me at all times,” he said as he unhooked the harness and set it on the table. “I only wear the shoulder holster when I’m wearing a suit though. I prefer using a waistband holster.”

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Depends on the question.”

“What made you want to join the FBI?”

Charlie considered the different events that had influenced his decision, one in particular coming to mind. “A few years ago, my sister was taken hostage overseas. She had been working in the U.S. embassy in Abolstan.”

Kendra’s eyes widened. “I remember when that happened. I had no idea your sister was one of the hostages.”

“She wasn’t just one of the hostages. She was the only hostage who didn’t make it out with everyone else,” Charlie told her, remembering all too well the days of waiting for news and finally flying overseas with his father to help find her. “She and one of her rescuers were left behind enemy lines for two days before they made it out.”

“So how did that help you decide to work for the FBI?”

“I remember staying at my parents’ house when we were waiting for news and hating it. I wanted to be the one who was doing something about bringing her home.” Charlie sat on the couch beside her. “One of my brother’s friends was in the FBI and helped out during that time. It got me thinking about choosing this as a career.”

“Have you ever had any regrets?” Kendra shifted to face him more fully.

“Only once.”

“When you and your old girlfriend broke up?”

“No, I wasn’t thinking about that.” Charlie shook his head as he fought against the guilt he felt whenever he thought about his former partner.

Kendra waited for a moment. Sensing that he didn’t want to talk about it, she glanced back at the chair where his weapon was hanging. “I guess knowing that you’re armed should make me feel safe, huh?”

“Just about anything you can put your hands on can be used as a weapon. A gun is just a tool of last resort,” Charlie told her, relieved that she’d changed the subject. “Being here where no one can find you is what should make you feel safe.”

“And having you here with me,” Kendra said as she shifted and started fiddling with chords on her guitar.

Charlie’s eyes met hers, and he nodded. “And having me here with you.”

* * *

FBI Agent Rick Michaels looked down at the two bodies, and his stomach rolled. He knew he should be used to crime scenes by now, but he doubted he would ever get past the shock factor that came with each useless death. The man sprawled lifelessly just inside the door appeared to have been shot twice at close range.

The woman’s body was on the pool deck, dressed in a blue gown, a red rose by her side. Like the other victims of the Malibu Stalker, she had been killed by a single gunshot through the heart.

Rick moved closer to the woman, noticing the bruises on her arms. His eyes narrowed when he looked closer and saw that her wrist appeared to have been broken.

“This is unusual,” Rick commented to the coroner, who had worked all the previous stalker crime scenes. “Do you think she fought back?”

The coroner lifted one of the woman’s hands and examined her manicured fingernails. “It doesn’t look like it. If I had to guess, I’d say our guy was in quite a rage. This looks to me like he was losing control.” He shook his head. “The other victims didn’t have a mark on them except for the bullet wounds.”

“We’ve never had a second victim either.”

“Something has definitely changed.”

“Or we could have a copycat.”

“We should be able to figure that out once we get the ballistics report back,” the coroner commented.

“I’ll see if I can get the lab to put a rush on this one. We need to know if we’re really dealing with the same killer.”

The coroner looked up at him with grave eyes. “I don’t know whether to hope that it’s the same guy or a different one.”

“I know what you mean.”

“Hey, Ray.” Charlie pulled the door open and waved him inside. “I didn’t expect to see you here so early.”

“We’ve got a problem.”

“What’s wrong?”

“We’ve had another victim. Two, actually.”

“Two?” Charlie’s eyebrows lifted.

“A man and a woman this time.” He held out the file in his hand. “The ballistics report just came in. It matches the others.”

Charlie led the way into his office as he opened the file and started reading the summary page. He scanned through the details, flipped through the crime scene photos, and then read the autopsy reports. “What do you make of this?”

“He’s getting sloppy.”

“Or frustrated.” Charlie rubbed a finger over his chin. “If Kendra really is the primary target, this could be the first time the killer had to choose a substitute without having the time to plan it out first.”

Ray nodded in agreement. “He figured Kendra would be at the event on Saturday night. When she wasn’t, he found someone else that looked enough like her to give him someone to take out his frustrations on.”

“That would explain the woman’s broken wrist and other bruises—and why he didn’t take the time to get her alone.”

“Was the LA office still tracking DeFoe and Zack Prescott?”

“Yeah, and get this. Both of them were at the fundraiser.”

“You’re kidding.”

Ray shook his head. “Since Kendra was supposed to perform, Prescott and all her other band members had tickets.”

“What about Steve DeFoe?”

“Apparently, he works for the caterer,” Ray told him. “He also worked backstage at the Grammys before the third murder.”

“Did we have a tail on him?”

“We did, but DeFoe gave him the slip. He must have realized he was being followed because he drove there and then left in a different vehicle. He still hasn’t shown up to pick up his car.”

“I assume someone is waiting to bring him in as soon as he does show up.”

“Yeah.” Ray nodded. “I’m heading into the office for a little while. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”

“Thanks.”

* * *

Kendra clasped her hands together as Charlie rolled the dice. They had been coexisting in relative harmony at the safe house for nearly two weeks now and had fallen into a similar routine to when they had arrived in Pinewood. They both kept to their separate corners of the house when they were working during the day, and then they spent most of their evenings together.

At times, Kendra wondered if this was what it would be like to be married, but she tried to chase those thoughts away as quickly as they appeared. For one thing, a married couple certainly wouldn’t have a chaperone show up by ten o’clock every night. And even though she felt like she knew Charlie pretty well after being practically inseparable for the past several weeks, she could hardly start thinking of a future with him when the main reason he was with her was his job. Except for kissing her that first night, Charlie seemed determined to keep things platonic between them.

She watched him make his move and tried to decide how to broach the subject of the upcoming charity dinner she had committed to and the preparations that she still needed to make.

“It’s your turn,” Charlie said after moving one of his backgammon pieces into the home position.

“Oh, sorry.” She rolled the dice and moved her pieces, not realizing until a few seconds too late that she had missed an opportunity to bump him.

Charlie jiggled the dice in the cup but didn’t roll them. “Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”

She looked up at him. “What?”

“Kendra, something is obviously bothering you.” He motioned to the board. “I never get this far ahead of you, even when I have a phenomenal game. So tell me what’s on your mind.”

She let out a sigh. “You’re going to think it’s silly.”

“Maybe,” Charlie agreed. “But tell me anyway.”

“I need a dress.”

His eyebrows lifted. “A dress?”

“Yeah, for the benefit concert coming up.” Kendra took a deep breath and let it out. “I know it probably seems silly, but there are always so many reporters and photographers at these events. I will be expected to show up wearing something suitable.”

“Something suitable,” Charlie repeated, looking as though he were torn between concern and laughter. “So what are you asking me to do?”

“I need to talk to my designer to have a new dress made,” Kendra told him. “He’s probably already started on one, but it would be the same blue that I always wear. After everything that’s happened, I want something different.”

“That sounds reasonable.” Charlie nodded.

“It does?”

“Sure.” He rolled the dice, considered his options briefly, and then made his move. “Give me his number, and I’ll have someone contact him. I assume he already knows your size.”