“I already have.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Not this time, Metcalf. Tell your boss that I consider my debt repaid.”
Metcalf nodded. “I’ll tell him. Between you and me, we’re still in the position of owing you.”
Kendra finally stopped. No use running away. She was far enough away that she shouldn’t be able to smell the terrible odor; it must be her imagination.
“You’ve never owed us a thing,” Metcalf continued quietly. “Thanks for coming out here today.”
“Sure. I’m certain you’ll get him. Whoever it is, he’s very concerned with calling attention to himself.”
“You’ve given us a good start.”
She nodded toward the tent. “Your partner’s very attractive. I’m pretty sure she’s interested in you.”
Metcalf shook his head. “Your powers of observation have seriously let you down. She barely tolerates any of us.”
“It’s a defense mechanism. She’s probably lonely, trying to start a new life for herself in a new town.”
“You’re cutting her way more slack than I am.” He shook his head. “Anyway, she’s really not my type.”
“Don’t tell me you’re one of those guys who’s threatened by strong women.”
He smiled at her. “Not at all. It’s a quality I find most attractive.”
Kendra turned away slightly. Metcalf was smart, good-looking, and a nice guy. She liked him, but she couldn’t return that romantic vibe she occasionally got from him.
“Then maybe you should give her a chance.” Kendra cocked her head toward her car. “I’m outta here. Good luck with your case.”
*
HAD KENDRA MICHAELS MET Pretty Amanda yet?
Hard to say.
Zachary sat on the park bench and unwrapped his sandwich. As much as he wanted to be watching the activity in front of the elementary school, he knew better. Only amateurs lingered near their crime scenes. Profilers studied behavior traits in what they assumed were people like him. It was one sure way of getting caught.
He was no amateur.
And there was no one like him in all their books and charts.
Still, he would have been thrilled to see Kendra Michaels admiring his handiwork.
If, that is, she’d even been brought into the case. He had already been disappointed twice before, and there was no guarantee she was there this time either.
Patience.
It was a plan years in the making. He could wait a little while longer.
He took a bite of his tuna-and-peppers sandwich as he watched the collegiate soccer team on the practice field. The goalie, a strapping young man named Todd Wesley, was doing well today.
Zachary smiled. A good way for the young man’s teammates to remember him.
Strapping Todd was a creature of habit. After practice, he’d grab a smoothie from the little shop on the corner before going to his apartment for a quick shower. He’d eat while watching television, then spend an hour on his sofa surfing the web until his girlfriend got off work at the campus library. She’d swing by, and the two of them would go out to dinner.
Zachary shook his head. Did Strapping Todd know how monotonous his life had become? He certainly would’ve done things differently if he’d known this would be his last day on earth.
No matter. Tonight would be different.
Very different.
Because this might be the one that would catch Kendra Michaels’ notice.
And when she finally gave him the attention he deserved, the game would be on.…
CHAPTER
2
IT WAS DARK BY THE TIME Kendra got back to her condo. She hadn’t cashed in on the pizza she’d only half-jokingly extracted from Metcalf’s partner, and her appetite had just started to recover from the horrible sight that had greeted her at the crime scene.
She lived on the top floor of the four-story downtown complex, and before she’d even made it to her door, it occurred to her that she might be able to corral a friend to join her for dinner. She bypassed the elevator and walked down a flight of stairs. She rounded the corner to see her friend Olivia’s door was wide open.
Kendra froze. What in the hell?
There were voices inside, and a moment later three men emerged carrying tripods and camera cases.
Kendra leaned inside the open door. “Knock knock,” she said.
Olivia turned from the living room. “Hi, Kendra. I’ll be just a minute.”
“Sure.”
She smiled as she entered Olivia’s two-bedroom condo. The place was the base of operations for Olivia’s web destination Outasite, a popular site for the vision impaired featuring articles, product reviews, and discussion boards, all accessible by integrated audio screen-reading apps. The site occupied most of Olivia’s waking hours and it had evolved from a simple hobby to a full-time business that generated an income well into the six figures.
Kendra watched as the last two members of the television crew left. She closed the door behind them. “Another news crew. Who was it this time?”
“The BBC in England.” Olivia reached out for a chair near the large U-shaped wraparound desk that centered the room. “Nice guys, but like all camera crews, they move things and don’t put them back exactly where they belong.”
“Ah, the price of fame.” Kendra watched her friend reach out for the chair next to her desk. “It’s a little to your left.”
“Thanks.”
She and Olivia had known each other since they were children at a school for the visually impaired in nearby Oceanside. Olivia had lost her sight in a childhood car accident but she still harbored hope that she would one day emerge from the darkness as Kendra had done. It was no wonder why TV crews were lined up to feature her in their broadcast stories; in addition to her considerable accomplishments, Olivia was extremely attractive, with olive-toned skin and long dark hair.
Olivia moved carefully around her office restoring the furniture to its proper place. “It’s good exposure for my site, but days like this really put me behind in my content. I have a half-dozen product reviews to write.”
“Hey, I didn’t mean to get in your way. If you’d rather I just—”
“No, stay. Please. What’s been going on?”
“Well, I have a new client. Borderline catatonic. I think I might be able to reach him, though.”
“Good.”
“It’s early going, but I think I may have a shot. I may try—”
“Enough,” she interrupted.
Kendra gave her a quizzical look. “Enough what?”
“Your head isn’t with that client right now, no matter what you say.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re on a murder case right now. Right?”
“How the hell did you know that?”
“You’re not the only one who’s pretty good at picking things up. I may not be on the FBI’s speed dial, but I know my best friend pretty well. It’s all in your voice. Quieter than usual, a little sad, slightly withdrawn … You sound like that whenever you’ve been consumed by a murder case. Is it one of those two killings here in downtown?”
“There are three now. And I’m not consumed.”
“Are you sure?”