“I’m very sorry,” he whispered.
“So am I.” Her eyes were glittering tears. “I loved him, you know. I wanted to make him happy. All these years of loneliness … I didn’t take my first lover for over fifteen years. I was careful. I didn’t want to hurt Porter.” Her lips twisted. “I didn’t have to worry. He wasn’t interested.” She met his eyes. “But in the end, I realized it’s what I felt, not what he felt. If you truly love someone, then you accept who they are and still want the best for them.” Her voice was low and uneven, but rang with sincerity. “And I wish with my whole heart that Croyden address belonged to a woman who could give him what I couldn’t.”
“You’re a very wise and generous woman,” he said gently. “I’ll find out what happened to your husband, I promise.”
“Thank you. I believe it will help to know.”
She took the key and slammed the door closed.
San Diego
6:50 A.M.
THIS IS YOUR WOULD-BE KIDNAPPER.
Kendra had been jolted wide awake by her buzzing phone. It signaled a one-sentence text message from Griffin.
The phone buzzed again.
LOOK FAMILIAR?
She scrolled to see that he’d included a photo. It was a man with a broad face, close-cropped brown hair, and penetrating eyes.
Those eyes …
MEET WALLACE DEAN POWERS.
Her bedroom door flew open. Lynch, wearing only a pair of black lounge shorts, held his phone in front of him. “Griffin included me on the text. They must have gotten a DNA hit on the skin cells from under your fingernails.”
Her phone rang and the caller ID screen lit up with a most unflattering picture of Griffin. Kendra had gleefully snapped it when he was scratching his lip, but it looked more like he was picking his nose. She swiped to answer, leaving it in front of her in speaker mode. “That’s one of the guys, Griffin. He tried to grab me. I know those eyes.”
“Good. Unfortunately, we didn’t get a hit off the other guy you mauled.”
“I wish I’d mauled them. This man’s skin was under my left nails, wasn’t it?”
After a clicking of keyboard keys, he replied. “Yes, left.”
“I knew it. That’s the second man. Deeper voice, maybe from the Midwest.”
“Very good. He did some jail time for a domestic abuse charge about four years ago, committed in Missouri. That’s why his DNA was in the system.”
Kendra looked at the man’s photo on her phone. “And his name is Wallace Dean Powers … Anything else?”
“He lives in Downey. He’s an unemployed high-school physical education instructor.”
“He’s a gym coach?” Lynch asked.
“That’s our best information.”
“Well, I guess thugs have to come from somewhere,” Kendra said. “It’s not like you can pick up the phone and call Henchmen-R-Us.”
“Hmm, you’ve just given me an excellent idea what to do with my retirement years,” Lynch said. “Griffin, do we know anything else about this wife-beating jock?”
“Very little. No prior associations, no clue who he might be working with now. But I’m hoping that we can ask him ourselves in the next couple hours.”
“You’re bringing him in?”
“Yes. We’re coordinating with Downey PD as I speak. I’ll text you directions to our staging area in the neighborhood. If you want in, meet us there at 9:15 A.M.”
“We want in,” Kendra said as she jumped out of bed. “See you there.”
Downey, California
9:15 A.M.
Kendra and Lynch arrived at the large office parking lot adjacent to the Downey Pizza Co. restaurant on Florence Avenue, where three squad cars were waiting with flashers on.
FBI Special Agent Metcalf climbed out of his car a few feet away. “Damnedest way to ID a suspect I’ve ever seen.”
Kendra wriggled her fingers. “Your lab deserves all the credit. I just collected the samples.”
“Remind me to keep my distance from those talons of yours, okay?”
“What’s the plan?” Lynch asked.
Metcalf folded his arms in front of him. “We just placed a call to his residence, posing as a solar-panel company. He’s home. Two detectives are keeping an eye on the house while we prepare to move in. We need you to keep your distance until we have him. Then maybe you can come over, look at his build, listen to his voice, and see if you can confirm.”
“I’ve seen his eyes in the photo. That plus his DNA is confirmation enough. But I’ll check him out to make sure.”
Metcalf nodded to a uniformed officer who was obviously in charge, who in turn signaled to the officers in the patrol cars. He turned to Kendra and Lynch. “Okay, follow us. I’ll signal you at the top of his block to pull over.”
Lynch nodded. “Got it.”
They caravanned to a residential street just three blocks south of the staging area. Metcalf, riding behind the squad cars, stopped just long enough to signal Kendra and Lynch before continuing.
Lynch pulled over, and they watched the three squad cars and Metcalf’s vehicle continue down the block.