Kendra shook her head. She’d had an instant of fierce protective defensiveness before she’d smothered it. Rye was the first to say it, but she was sure others had begun to mull that possibility. “No,” she said flatly. “No way.”
“Where did Waldridge work?”
“He was vague when we spoke about it the other night,” Kendra said. “But he worked with the Night Watch Project for years. It’s based there in London. You can find a lot about it online.”
Rye jotted down some more notes. “And about you, I’m sure. I’ll take a look.”
“I’ll send you an e-mail with all the details of the case so far,” Lynch said. “The FBI and the local police are helping us locally, but we could use some help on the London angle. I thought that with your research and investigative background…”
“And a willingness to get my hands dirty,” Rye interrupted.
“That shouldn’t be necessary.”
“One man’s missing and another is dead.” Rye put down the pen and leaned forward in his chair. “Not a promising situation. There could be something very dark at the bottom of this. You should both be careful.”
Kendra smiled. “You’re the second person to say that to me today. The other was my mother.”
Rye groaned. “That’s a new low. I meet a beautiful woman, and she says I remind her of her mother.”
“I’ve heard women say much worse to you,” Lynch said.
“You’re right.” Rye sighed. “Often accompanied by a hard slap across the face. I guess I should consider myself lucky.”
“Will you help us?” Kendra asked.
“Why not?” Rye gestured around the room. “It’s about time I got out for a while. I’ve made this place far too comfortable for myself. Send me the info, and I’ll see what I can find out.”
Lynch bowed his head and gave a mock salute. “Thanks, Rye. You’re the best.”
Rye cut the connection.
Lynch turned to Kendra. “Well, that’s another front we’ve covered. Rye is extremely thorough. If there’s anything to be found out there, he’ll uncover it.”
“I hope so.” The moment of distraction and optimism that Rye had brought was fading fast. “Thank you, Lynch.”
He caught the change immediately, and his eyes narrowed. “Sure. Anything wrong?”
At that moment, the studio door opened, and Selena Motter entered with her eight-year-old twin sons. One of the boys suffered from depression, and Kendra had been successfully using duo sessions to draw him out.
Kendra nodded. “I think work is just what I need right now.”
“Good. I’ll go home and send Rye the photograph and everything else I have.” He reached out and gave her hand a quick squeeze. “We’ll touch base tonight.”
He leaned close to her, but pulled away as the two boys bounded closer.
Lynch smiled at them. “Go easy on her, guys.”
He turned and walked out of the room.
KENDRA’S BACK-TO-BACK afternoon sessions were just the jolt she needed. Her anxiety didn’t completely dissipate, but it felt good to focus on something other than Waldridge. It didn’t hurt that both clients appeared to be success stories.
Finally, a few rays of light to scatter the oppressive darkness.
She checked her phone for the e-mail that had come in early that morning. A psychologist in Mission Valley wanted her to meet with a young autistic girl who might benefit from her techniques. After an hour-long evaluation at her psychologist’s office, Kendra would decide if she’d take her on or not. Not everyone responded to music therapy, and it would serve no one’s best interest to waste time on techniques that would have little chance of succeeding with this particular patient.
Kendra drove the twenty minutes to Mission Valley and found her way to the smallish, two-story medical building that bordered the Riverwalk Golf Course. The medical building was new. So new, in fact, that there were still pallets of ceiling tiles sitting in the lobby, and the lone elevator had yet to be activated.
No problem, she thought as she started up the freshly tiled stairs. She needed the exercise anyway. She climbed to the second floor, then the third.
She left the staircase and stepped into the hallway. It was dimly lit, as if all the offices had closed for the day, and everybody had gone home.
She checked her watch-5:15 P.M., right on schedule.
So where the hell was everybody?
She glanced down at the floor, where long boxes of molding lined the corridor. The air was thick with the odor of paint and new carpeting.
She approached Suite 316, where she was supposed to meet her prospective new client.
She stopped.
No name on the door. The frosted-glass panels next to it were dark, indicating no life or activity beyond.
She tried the handle. Locked.
What the hell?
She checked her phone to make sure they hadn’t canceled.
Nope.
She scrolled through her old messages to make sure she was at the right place.
Yep.
But the entire floor appeared to be empty. Just like the entire building, for that matter.
Someone was yanking her chain.
But why? Why in the hell would anyone-?
Footsteps echoed behind her.
She turned. They were coming up the stairs. Good. Maybe she could get some answers.
The footsteps suddenly stopped.
Then a moment later, they resumed. But slower. And quieter. It was like…
Like someone who was trying not to be heard as they approached this floor.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
They were getting closer.
Tap. Tap.
Kendra spun around.
These were coming from the other side of the hall.
Tap. Tap.
Another person trying not to be heard.
Whispers behind her.
Then in front of her.
They were talking to each other.
She wasn’t just being paranoid. She was sure they were on their phones or some other devices engaged in a hushed conversation.
And they were both still moving toward her.
She could feel her heart start to pound.
Tap. Tap.
Shit!
The lights had shut off. She couldn’t see her hand in front of her face.
That was okay. More than okay.
Did they even know who they were dealing with here? She was at home in the dark.
She crouched low against one of the closed office doors.
Stay calm. Focus.
Neither of these people, whoever they were, knew that exactly twenty-six steps separated her from the stairs. They weren’t aware of the two cartons of molding, box of nails, and the large fire extinguisher in their path. She could make the darkness work for her.
She looked up. Two green eyes glowed at the end of the hallway.
Her heart sank. Oh, no.
Night-vision goggles.
She turned back. Another pair of goggles glowing in the darkness. They could see everything clear as day.
And they were moving toward her.
Her eyes flicked between the two. Judging from the height of the goggles, she was dealing with two large men between six feet and six-foot-two. If she waited, it would be two against one.
Can’t let that happen.
She leaped to her feet and ran back toward the stairs, zeroing in on the glowing eyes.
Gotta do this just right…
The assailant appeared to be frozen in place, stunned by her frontal assault.
Or had he just stopped to aim a weapon at her?
Can’t think about that. Play it smart…
She ducked and weaved at the last moment, never breaking stride as she reached out with her outstretched hand.
She clawed upward and ripped the goggles from his face.
She felt his skin fly beneath her fingernails. She whirled around and landed a direct kick to what she thought were his kidneys. The man grunted and fell to the floor.
She spun around and ran for the stairs. Just another few-