Metcalf, smiling broadly, gestured toward the large wall-mounted monitor. “It just came in. Fantastic video. If this is the guy who cleaned up Dr. Waldridge’s hotel room, he might as well have sat for a portrait.”
Griffin pointed at the screen. “Here he is at the checkout stand. They matched it up with the time stamp and register number of his purchase. It’s more of a profile shot here, but in a few seconds you’ll see footage they pulled of him entering the store.”
The screen flickered and they saw the dark-suited man walking through the store’s main entrance. The tech froze the image.
Lynch stiffened. He leaned toward the screen. “My God, isn’t that—” He whirled toward Kendra. “Kendra?”
“Yes.” She slowly nodded. She was stunned, still not believing what she was seeing. “It’s him. That man is Dr. Charles Waldridge.”
CHAPTER
8
KENDRA STARED AT THE MONITOR for another long moment, still not believing her eyes.
What the hell, Charles?
“You’re positive that’s Dr. Waldridge?” Griffin asked.
“Yes. That’s literally the last person on Earth I thought I’d see here.” She shook her head. “Keep it going. Let’s see the rest.”
The tech punched the PLAY button. “There isn’t much more. They sent the clips that would give us the clearest image of him.”
“Tell them to pull up everything. They have security cameras all over the place, right? In the aisles, in front of every exit, in the parking lot … I want to see him every minute he was in that store from the moment he walked in the door to the moment he walked out. I want to see the car he came in. If he was with anyone. I want to see them, too.”
Kendra heard her voice crack slightly as she spoke. It didn’t surprise her. She felt as if a boa constrictor were crushing her throat.
“Don’t worry. We’ll get everything they have,” Lynch said quietly.
She turned to Griffin. “Tell them to pull every frame of video they have during the time that Waldridge was there. Even if he wasn’t in the shot.”
“I know how this works,” Griffin said testily. “It’s what we do, Kendra.”
He was annoyed. Too bad. She ignored it. “I’m going up there right now. I want to talk to that clerk and anyone else Waldridge might have spoken to that night. Can you have them meet me at the store?”
Griffin thought for a moment. “Metcalf, go up there with her. I’ll have to let Santa Monica PD in on this, so don’t step on any local toes. Got it?”
Metcalf was trying to look cool, but Kendra could see his eyes brighten. “Sure.” He nodded toward her. “I’ll call them on the way up there, so they can pull everything—and everybody—we need.”
“Thanks, Metcalf.”
“We’ll take my car. I’ll dash off a couple quick e-mails, then we’ll get on the road and—”
“Kendra and I will go in my car,” Lynch interrupted.
Metcalf shrugged. “I just thought—”
“In case she and I need to stay and follow up on anything,” Lynch said. “Call us when you get on the road. We’ll meet in the store parking lot.”
“Sure, no problem.” Metcalf looked disappointed. “I’ll meet you there.”
*
“I HATED TO CRUSH THAT poor guy’s spirit,” Lynch said as he drove north on the I-5 freeway. “But this makes more sense.”
Kendra leaned back in her seat. “You enjoyed the hell out of it. By the way, I seriously doubt his spirit was crushed.”
“Well, I also thought you might like some time to process what you just saw back there.” He glanced at her. “Are you okay?”
“I’m relieved he’s still alive, but I’m no less worried about him. Charles Waldridge is the last man on Earth I’d expect to be scrambling to hide blood evidence on the carpet of his hotel room.”
“It does seem out of character for a world-renowned research scientist.”
“It’s crazy,” she said flatly. “He needs help, and I think he was on the verge of asking me for it. He backed off at something I said.” She shook her head. “Or maybe everything I said. Anyway, he changed his mind. But I have to find him.”
“It’s looking very much like he doesn’t want to be found.”
“Tough. I’m still going to do it.”
*
THEY ARRIVED AT THE BALDWIN HILLS Walmart store just a few minutes ahead of Metcalf. The three of them walked in together and were taken through a maze of corridors to the spartan office of the store manager, a trim African-American man dressed in a crisp white shirt and a striped tie.
“Derek Collins,” he said as he stood and shook hands with each of them. He gestured for them to walk with him down the concrete-floored corridor. “We’ve been pulling all the video we have from that night. Our security manager has compiled and ordered video from the different camera feeds and burned them to a DVD for you guys.”
“Thank you,” Kendra said. “I didn’t realize you were set up for that kind of thing.”