“No,” she said sharply. “You heard Biers. He said they’re probably torturing Charles. He’s trying to do something that’s going to save the lives of millions of people, and they’re hurting him.”
“I realize that,” Jessie said. “And I know how much that’s hurting you. But we can go about it another way. Let’s scrap all we talked about. Just give me a little time.” She paused. “Or let me call Lynch.”
“No way. Don’t keep bringing it up. I’m not waiting. I can’t wait. Monitor that device. When you see where they take me, bring in the troops.”
“And what if we’re too late?” Her voice was suddenly rough. “For God’s sake, you could die today, Kendra.”
“Then you’d better make sure you’re not too late.” She drew a deep breath. “But if you are, none of it will be your fault, Jessie. I know you’re right. I know that what you’re saying is reasonable, but I can’t be reasonable right now. I owe Charles too much. I can’t stand the thought of their hurting him, perhaps even killing him, because I waited too long.”
Jessie was silent. “Crazy.” She cleared her throat. “But I see where you’re coming from. I just hate it. Call me if you change your mind.” She hung up.
Yes, Jessie would understand, Kendra thought as she hung up. She came from a military background and was aware of the duties to family and comrades. And Charles Waldridge was so much more than a comrade to Kendra.
You could die today, Kendra.
That was also true. One faced possible death every day from accidents or illness, but it wasn’t often that you knew that you might be seeking it out.
Rye had not known he would find death that night, but he must have realized it might come. Yet he had faced it alone, with no good-byes, like a drop of rainwater merging into a great ocean.
She did not want to be that drop of rainwater. She would do everything she could to stay alive, but she would not leave the people she loved with no good-byes.
She had two hours before her next therapy appointment. Make them count. She sat down at her desk and pulled out a piece of stationary. She started to write.
My dear Olivia,
I hope we’ll sit down and laugh when I pull this letter out of the drawer in a week or so. You’ll probably make fun of me, then you’ll get angry that I did something that I thought this might be necessary. But just in case, my friend, I wanted to tell you how much you’ve meant to me through all these years. You were the light in my darkness, the warmth when I was cold, the humor when I took myself too seriously. And so many other things that made my life worth living…
It was almost twilight.
All the therapy sessions completed. Everything she’d planned to do was done. Time to close up the studio for the day.
Only one more thing to do before she left the studio. No letter for her mother. Kendra wanted to hear her voice.
She dialed the number at the hotel in Denver where her mother was attending her seminar.
Noise.
Voices.
Then Dianne came on the line. “Kendra, I meant to call you, but things are so busy here. No one I called at the universities in England know anything about Waldridge, but I’ll still keep-”
“It’s okay, Mom. Lynch is over there now, and he’ll take care of it.”
“Have you heard from Waldridge?”
“Not yet. I just wanted to ask how things were going at the seminar.”
Silence. “What difference does it make how things are going here?” Dianne asked. “Why are you even asking? I know you must be sick with worry about Waldridge. No progress at all?”
“We’ve found out a few things that might be promising. And your seminar is important, everything you do is important to me.” She tried to keep her voice light. “Why shouldn’t it be? When I should have been the bane of your life, you made me feel that I was always special and loved. You said you remembered that day that I first saw your face, Mom. I remember it, too.” That day was suddenly with her once again, and she could see Dianne walking toward her at Piccadilly Circus. “I don’t think I told you, but I thought, ‘This must be what love looks like.’ Pretty soppy, huh?”
“Kendra, what the hell is wrong?”
She’d better get off the phone quickly. Dianne was too smart not to pick up on any false notes, and Kendra was dropping them right and left. “And then you told me I had to call Waldridge and let him join us. I’ll always remember we were there together. He was almost as important to you as he was to me.”
“Why do you sound like this? Has something happened to Waldridge?”
“I don’t think so. I hope not.” She was completely blowing it. “I believe everything will be fine. Look, I have to hang up. I have somewhere I have to go. I love you, Mom.” She hung up.
A complete disaster, she thought, as she got to her feet. She’d probably sent her mother into a panic. She should have written her a letter as she had Olivia. So much for leaving a memory behind for the people you love.
Maybe a drop of rainwater in a great ocean wasn’t so bad.
But it would have been for her, and it might have been for her mother and Olivia.
And now it was time to forget about memories and good-byes and concentrate on life. That call had probably been foolishness anyway. She had no intention of letting Dyle kill either her or Waldridge. Charles Waldridge was too important to the world and, dammit, she was important to her own world, too.
A moment later, she was locking up the studio and facing the deserted parking lot. All the tenants had left for the day, and there was only silence and shadows.
Last night she had told herself that she would face the fear and shadows today, and here they were.
She felt her heart beating hard in her throat. Logically, she knew this was the quickest way to find Waldridge, but she knew the odds weren’t wonderful and could always get worse. What if Dyle turned out to be some nut job who now thought the most effective means of persuasion would be to present Charles with her head? The possibility certainly existed.
You could die today.
But she wasn’t going to die. She was going to find Charles Waldridge, the man who had given her so much. She was going to pay back just a little of that debt today. She started across the parking lot.
Her gaze searched the shadows as she approached her car. Come on, you assholes. Come and get me.
She opened her car door. She looked around the parking lot again. It obviously wasn’t happening. Not here, not now.
She was depressed and relieved at the same time.
Damn.
She started the car and drove out of the parking lot.
As she made her way through the city streets, she was tense, her eyes searching. There was no sign of any of the vehicles that had been following her in the past few days. No black panel van. No white utility truck.
She felt a chill.
Maybe it was because they didn’t need her anymore.
The thought brought immediate panic.
Maybe they had already gotten what they wanted from Waldridge… Or for a much worse reason. She didn’t even want to consider that possibility.
She turned down Fourteenth Street to cut over toward her condo. Orange construction cones narrowed the one-way street to one lane, not an unusual occurrence in downtown San Diego. Just before she reached F Street, a large truck backed up from an alley, blocking her way.
Damn.
She checked her rearview. It was a one-way street, but maybe she could still-
Another truck blocked the street immediately behind her.
“What in the…”
Crash.
Her driver and passenger windows smashed open simultaneously, and before she could register the twin events, gloved hands reached in and gripped the inside door handles with well-rehearsed precision. They threw open the doors, and two masked, black-clad men jumped inside.