“Hairline?”
“Receding at the forehead. But the rest of the hair looked healthy, shiny.”
“Dark? Light?”
“Dark. Latin-looking.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just an impression.”
“I don’t sketch impressions.”
But he did, and the hair of the man suddenly had longer sideburns.
The pencil flew. The words flew. The image on the page changed, became something, then changed again.
Kendra didn’t know how much time had passed, but she knew that Bill had turned on the lamp sometime during the session.
“Best I can do.” He finally handed her the sketch. “Considering that you don’t know what the hell you’re doing, either.”
She looked at the sketch. “It’s a very good best,” she said softly. “It’s the man I saw that day at the auditorium. You’ve got him, Bill.”
“Providing he doesn’t have wrinkles or scars that he’s developed since you saw him. Time doesn’t stand still, Kendra.”
“It did for you today, Bill.”
“Yeah, maybe.” He looked at the sketch. “When you find him, will you let me know? Maybe take a photo of him. I want to know how close I came.”
“I’ll get you proof.” She hoped she was telling the truth. “I’ll even get you a name.”
“Do that.” He looked away from the sketch. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to do any more sketches.”
“It doesn’t mean that you’re not.” She got to her feet. “You’re too young to be wandering around this house when you could be doing something interesting. I’m going to call Griffin at the FBI and tell him that if he has something really challenging, you’re here, ready and waiting.”
“The hell you will.”
She nodded. “I’m going to do it. Though I’m still going to insist on being first on your preferred list.” She looked down at the sketch. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “This means a lot to me, Bill.”
“I thought it did. That’s why I let you harass me.” He stood up and walked with her to the door. “And I might let you get away with it again. If I get bored enough.”
She grinned. “Griffin won’t let that happen.” She reached out and shook his hand. “I’ll let you know as soon as I locate our mystery subject. It’s been good seeing you again.”
“Do you expect me to say the same?” he asked wryly. “It’s been interesting. I’ll have to see after the fallout if I’m going to say that your coming here was a good experience or just memorable.”
“I can’t wait for your report.” She turned and waved. “But give it a little while to make a decision. Bye.”
“Kendra.”
She looked back over her shoulder.
“Maybe you’ve got a few more smarts other than the ones that are connected to all that brainy stuff you manage to pull out of your hat.” He smiled. “I guess it wasn’t such a bad afternoon.”
He turned away and closed the door.
No, it hadn’t been a bad afternoon at all, she thought as she went down the driveway to where Jessie was waiting in passenger seat of the car.
Jessie got out of the car and came around to the driver’s seat. “I get to drive now. You owe me, after keeping me waiting out here all afternoon. I’ve been going crazy.” She glanced down at the rolled-up sketch Kendra was carrying. “You got what you needed?”
Kendra nodded. “And it’s really good. It’s him, Jessie.”
Jessie unrolled it and studied the sketch. “Not bad-looking. Don’t like the eyes.” She handed the sketch back to her. “You can take some photos of it while I’m driving us to the hospital.”
“You’re being very demanding.”
“I was bored. I hate to be bored. I sat here twiddling my thumbs and wondering if I should break in and see if you needed help with Dillingham.”
“With Bill?” She stared at her in astonishment. “Whatever for? You must have seen him when he opened the door. Unless you meant convincing him to do the sketch?”
“No, I knew you had that covered. But I’ve seen some old guys that were more spry than you might think and almost put me down.” She grimaced. “But I could tell Dillingham wasn’t one of them. So that left me with no job to do and bored mindless.”
That protective instinct again, Kendra thought. “No, the only problem I had with Bill was convincing him that he had to jar himself back to the land of the living. I think he’s alone too much. Depression can be pure hell.”
“Yeah, I know. I had a few buddies who came back from Afghanistan with wounds that could be healed except the ones in their minds.”
“How about you? You said you’d done two tours in Afghanistan.”
“I had my own nightmares.” She held out her hand. “So can I drive?”
Kendra dropped the car keys into her palm. “No roaring.”
“Okay.” She jumped into the driver’s seat. “This car isn’t suited for roaring anyway. Too sedate. Now if I had Lynch’s Ferrari…”