Authors: Iris Johansen
“I see.”
Beth sat down. “You’ve been seriously freaked ever since you talked to that reporter we’re meeting. Are you going to tell me why?”
Kendra sipped her drink and looked away. “It goes back to my first criminal investigation. I helped catch a serial killer named Eric Colby.” She paused. “He’s the most terrifying man I’ve ever known.”
Beth wrinkled her brow. “But he was executed a few months ago, right? I couldn’t turn on a TV or go onto the Web without seeing his face.”
“He was officially put to death by lethal injection in front of a roomful of witnesses. But I don’t think it really happened. We know he was working with another killer on the outside. I think this man might have kidnapped the prison physician’s wife and pressured him to administer a drug to simulate Colby’s death. The doctor and his wife were found dead in their car in the Angeles National Forest a few days later.”
“Murdered?”
“It was ruled an accident. I went to the site myself, and the scene had already been so trampled by cops and rescue workers that I couldn’t prove otherwise. It hadn’t been protected as a crime scene.”
“Incredible.”
“It would be if I could prove any of this. He was supposedly cremated that very night, but I also have doubts about that. I’ve been searching for some sign of Colby ever since, but he still hasn’t resurfaced.”
“And this reporter thinks she has the proof you’ve been looking for?”
“That’s what she says.” Kendra shook her head. “I’ve been here skimming some of her other investigative pieces on my phone, and she looks like the real deal.”
“I take that as a compliment, Dr. Michaels.” The voice was brusque but pleasant and came from behind them. They turned to see a slender woman wearing a dark blue suit. She was attractive, with large brown eyes and shoulder-length brown hair. She extended her hand. “Sheila Hunter.”
“Kendra.” Kendra shook hands and motioned toward Beth. “This is my friend, Beth Avery.”
Sheila gave Beth an awkward glance. “I see. What I’m here to tell you is extremely confidential. I’m only prepared to discuss it with you alone.”
Beth moved to stand up, but Kendra motioned her to stay. “Ms. Hunter, I understand, but anything you want to talk to me about you can also say in front of my friend. I assure you that she will keep it entirely confidential.”
Sheila didn’t look happy to be thrown a curve. “I’m sure your friend is trustworthy, but in my business, information is currency. And the more people who have the information before I can publish my stories, the less valuable it is to me.”
“Beth has no interest in scooping you. Please sit down and let’s talk.”
Sheila looked searchingly at both of them for a long moment, then finally joined them at the table. “Very well. I’m going to trust you to make sure there’s no leak, Dr. Michaels. Thank you for meeting with me.”
“Kendra, please.”
“Kendra … I have some law-enforcement sources who have told me about a theory you have. A theory that Eric Colby is still alive.”
“Now it’s my turn to be concerned. Not that I expected it to stay a secret. I thought that the more people who knew there was a possibility, the more chance I had of catching the bastard.”
“So it’s true. You don’t believe Colby was really executed.”
“I don’t. Even though our state penal system and forty witnesses will tell you different.”
“It so happens that I was one of those witnesses,” she said quietly. “I was in the observation room at San Quentin that night.”
Kendra’s brows rose in surprise. “Then you won the lottery. Journalists all over the world were vying for those tickets. I think it was easier to win the Powerball than to get into that witness chamber.”
“Won isn’t the right word.” Sheila drew her arms close, almost in a defensive position. “I still think about that night.”
Kendra nodded. “It’s not easy to watch a man die.”
“Oh, it wasn’t that. It wasn’t that at all.”
“What was it?” Beth asked, obviously drawn from silence by Sheila’s sudden wave of emotion.
“It was Colby.” She drew a deep breath. “I’d seen pictures and courtroom footage, but nothing could compare with actually seeing him in the flesh. Those dark eyes, his thin lips … It was chilling. Everyone in that room could feel it. I tried to communicate that sickening chill in my story, but I know I failed miserably.”
“Words were empty where Colby was concerned. You had to experience him,” Kendra said. “No one has ever frightened me more. He knows exactly how to push the buttons of anyone with whom he comes in contact.”
“Well, you would know. You’re the only one to face off against him and survive.”
“He was toying with me. It was a game to him. He was still trying to involve me in his game right up until his execution day.”
“And you believe he still might be doing it.”
“He’ll never stop. Sooner or later, he’s going to show himself. He’ll find some way to prove to me that he hasn’t been beaten.”
Sheila raised a file folder from the handbag on her lap. “I think he already has.”
Kendra went still. “What is that?”
“You tell me.” She placed the folder on the table in front of Kendra and opened it.
Kendra leaned over it to examine the folder’s contents; half a dozen color-photo printouts, detailing a crime scene that looked vaguely familiar to her. There were two bloody corpses, a man and a woman, sprawled across a large bedroom featuring floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the ocean.
“Redondo Beach, six weeks ago?” Kendra said.
“Yes,” Sheila said in surprise. “You were there?”
“No, but I read the report and saw some of the crime-scene shots. But it didn’t look quite like this.”
“What was different? Can you tell me?”
Kendra turned the photos around in her hands, examining them from different angles. “Hmmm. I glanced at the materials a few weeks ago, but there’s something about these that—”
She froze.
It couldn’t be.
But, dear God, she was afraid it was.
“Kendra?” Beth said.
“The corpses,” Kendra whispered. “They’re positioned differently than they were in the crime-scene shots I saw.”
Sheila nodded.
“They were posed?” Beth asked.
“It’s more than that.” Kendra’s stomach churned as she studied the body positions. “These are military ground-force arm-and-hand signals.”
“Remind you of anyone?” Sheila said.
“Colby.” The battery-acid taste returned to her mouth as she spoke his name. “He decapitated his victims and positioned them to give us messages and taunt us. Some of the later ones even gave clues where and when his next victims would be killed.”
“Positioned … like this?” Beth asked.
“Yes.” Kendra pointed to the arrangement of the corpses’ arms. “Look. The woman’s right arm is raised over her head, palm out, elbow bent at a thirty-degree angle. That’s the ground-force call for attention.”
Beth looked queasy. “His message to the agents investigating the case?”
“That’s what it meant last time. As the case went on, the messages were directed more at me.”
Beth pointed to a male corpse with his right arm extended in front of him, hand tilted back. “What does that mean?”
Sheila answered the question. “It’s the sign for ‘Are you ready’?”
Kendra looked up at her. “That’s right. These hand signals were definitely Colby’s M.O. Where did you get these pictures?”
“I have a source.”
“I have sources, too,” Kendra said. “Very well placed ones. And the photos I saw of the scene didn’t look like this.”
“It’s because you saw the official crime-scene photos.”
Beth was gazing in bewilderment between the two women. “Are you saying that the officers on the scene were trying to hide the fact that these bodies might have been Colby’s victims? That they might have actually repositioned them before taking the official crime-scene photos?”
“I don’t know,” Sheila said. “What do you think, Kendra?”
Kendra stared at the photos for a long moment before glancing up. “I don’t understand this. Why would anyone want to hide actual proof?”
“I’ve been wondering the same thing. My investigation led me to you and the suspicions you’ve been tossing about.” Sheila gathered the photo printouts and placed them back into her folder. “No one else is willing to even entertain the idea that Colby is still alive.”
“I’d like copies of those.”
“That’s not possible.”
“Sure it is. Slide those over to me. I won’t tell anyone where I got them.”
Sheila pulled the folder closer to her. “It’s not me I’m worried about. I have to protect my source.”
“To hell with your source. There’s a killer out there.”
“Yes, and that’s why my source took such a risk to give me these. But I can’t let them out of my possession or even let anyone else see them. I had to get permission to show them to you.”
“Permission from whom?”
“Really, Kendra, you should realize I wouldn’t be at liberty to say. But in light of your suspicions about Colby, I thought you should know about these. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t mention these to anyone else at this point.”
Kendra stared with frustration at the folder, considering the prospect of grabbing it and running like hell to the elevator. Sheila tightened her grasp and lowered it to her lap, almost as if she’d read her mind.
Damn.
“Fine,” Kendra said. “No, it’s not fine. I won’t mention your name, but I won’t guarantee I won’t tell anyone that this cover-up exists.”
“I wish you wouldn’t.” She shrugged. “But I always understood the risk I was running by contacting you.”
“Tell your source I want to meet with him. Or her.”
“I really don’t think—”
“Just ask,” Kendra interrupted. “Get me a face-to-face meeting, and I’ll take it from there.”
Sheila shrugged. “Okay, I’ll ask. But I want something in return for all this. I need all the background on this case from your angle and your reasons for believing Colby is still alive.” She glanced at Beth. “And I want your word that your friend here isn’t going to—”
“Ask me for my word,” Beth said quietly. She had been listening with obvious fascination by the battle of wills between the two women. “Kendra is my friend, not my custodian.”
“Custodian,” Sheila repeated. “A strange choice of words.”
“I’m not a writer like you. But I know about custodians,” Beth said. “But you have my promise that I won’t reveal anything I’ve heard here today as long as my silence won’t hurt Kendra.”
“That’s good enough for me.” Sheila turned back to Kendra. “Well, will you give me the details?”
Kendra slowly nodded. “Fair enough, Sheila. But you might want to get yourself a strong drink first.”
* * *
HALF AN HOUR LATER, KENDRA
and Beth were walking back to the condo. Kendra was so lost in thought that she realized she hadn’t said a word during most of the ten-minute journey home. She looked up at Beth. “Sorry. Rotten host I’m turning out to be, huh?”
“Not at all,” Beth said. “I’d have to be crazy to think you’d bounce right back and be chatty after having to relive your experiences with that monster.” She shivered. “I needed a little time to recover myself.”
“I didn’t want to expose you to Colby.” Kendra shook her head. “You know, Colby grew up as a child of privilege, with all the advantages in life. He studied metallurgy at MIT, and by all accounts, he was brilliant in his field. He was always a loner, though. No friends, no romantic relationships as far as we can tell. There’s no evidence that he ever hurt anyone until he was in his thirties, but then something seemed to snap. He killed over twenty people in just a few months. No regrets. No excuses. It was as if the monster he’d kept hidden all those years had suddenly broken free.” Her lips tightened. “And is still free: it’s terrifying that he’s still out there.”
“This time I hope you’re wrong, Kendra. I hope he’s dead.”
“I’m not wrong.”
“And you’re trying to save the world from him.” She walked in silence for a few moments. “I’m starting to realize just how much I’ve been missing out. You and my sister lead incredibly interesting lives. While I’ve been on the road looking for adventure, this is where the real excitement has been.”
“I don’t know,” Kendra said dryly. “Beating up that beefy redneck must have been pretty exciting.”
“That was nothing. This is life and death. I always thought you should do this full-time.”
Kendra snorted. “Me, a full-fledged FBI agent? It would never work.”
“Sure it would. I know how much you’re in demand. Eve told me that the FBI and various police departments are falling all over themselves to get you to consult for them.”
“But I get to say no, which is exactly what I do 95 percent of the time. I wouldn’t have that option if I were their employee. Besides, I love my music-therapy work. It’s what I live for.”
“But wouldn’t you rather be saving lives?”
“I like to think that my music-therapy work makes life worth living for some people.” Kendra glanced over and smiled at Beth’s skeptical expression. “I don’t expect you to understand, but during all those years I was blind, music is what gave my world color. It was something I could share with everyone else … A way to connect.”
“So your patients are blind?”
“No, almost none of them have been. The blind usually don’t need me. A fair number of the people I help are autistic and quite a few have been senior adults suffering from dementia. People who have difficulty connecting with the world around them. It’s still an emerging field, but we’ve had success using music to draw them out. It actually helps them make emotional and intellectual connections that language, for whatever reason, can’t make for them. When it works, there isn’t a better feeling in the world.”
Beth stopped as they reached the front of Kendra’s building. “I didn’t mean to sound cynical, but I spent a lot of time in that institution, where so-called therapists did nothing but hurt me. I’m glad there are people out there like you. People who really care.”
“Trust me, Beth. There are a lot of people who care.” She hesitated before continuing. “And while we’re on the subject … Have you talked to anybody about what happened to you at Seahaven?”