Chapter 15

Early the next morning, Kendra and Lynch were awakened by the sound of Kendra's phone buzzing. She looked at the caller ID. Griffin.

She showed the phone to Lynch. "It's your buddy."

Lynch tried to focus on the screen. "Are you going to answer it?"

"Still deciding." Kendra finally pressed the TALK button. "Good morning, Griffin. We had a late night in Old Town, and it wasn't exactly fun. So unless you have something incredibly interesting to say, I'm not positive I'll be able to stay awake through this call."

"How about this: Your recent set of deductions have turned out to be incredibly useful."

Kendra sat upright in bed and put the phone on speaker. "Ooh. Okay, that did it. What are we talking about here?"

"The Bayside Strangler's first new victim, Anna Mae Robinson, and your thoughts about her being stored in an old leaky walk-in freezer near the waterfront. SDPD took you seriously, and they've been combing the bayfront buildings ever since. They found something."

Lynch sat up and leaned toward the phone in Kendra's hand.

"Are you going to tell me?" Kendra said. "Or do I have to guess?"

"It was a body in the cooler, another young woman. Looks like yet another one of the strangler's victims, but this time he didn't get a chance to display it."

"Damn. Have they ID'd her?"

"Yeah. I don't have her name in front of me, but she went missing near Balboa Park a couple of days ago."

Kendra felt awful for the relief she experienced upon hearing it wasn't one of the Morgan sisters.

"Kendra?"

"Yes."

"If you're up for it, you might want to get down there. The FBI and SDPD are still working this together. It's gonna be a party."

Kendra and Lynch loaded Harley into the Lamborghini and drove to Barrio Logan, an industrial waterfront neighborhood just south of downtown. It was a community with a heavy Mexican influence, and in recent years much of the area had become a vibrant arts and cultural scene. That renewal, however, had not reached the address Griffin had given her, a street populated with several abandoned industrial buildings.

The normally quiet street was now teeming with activity, with police cars, forensics units, and FBI evidence collection vans taking most of the nearby parking. Kendra and Lynch found a shady spot down the block, cracked a window open for Harley, and walked to the two-story building.

"Look what you did," Detective Perry said to Kendra as they approached the main entrance. He smiled and waved his arms around at all the activity. "This is all your fault."

"Don't put this on me, Perry. I just noticed what was in front of my face."

"It was in front of all of our faces, but you were the only one to put it together. Good work."

"So what's the story?"

"Your observations about Anna Robinson's murder scene made a lot of sense to us, especially the idea that her body had been refrigerated in an ancient industrial cooler near the waterfront. We started combing all the bayfront neighborhoods and checking out the old buildings. We've probably been to every former fish processing plant in the city. Somebody eventually found this place."

Lynch stepped back to look at the faded sign. "What was it?"

"Small-scale meat processing. A wholesale butcher that used to serve a lot of the downtown restaurants. They have a working built-in freezer, and one of our detectives noticed that the refrigeration exhaust system was engaged, even though the building had been abandoned for a while. We got permission from the owner to conduct a search, and we found the victim inside. Everything tracks with the Bayside Strangler's victims. The ligature marks on her throat, hand and feet bindings, everything. Want to see her?"

Hell no, Kendra wanted to say. Even though it was the entire reason she had come. But she knew she had to go inside, for Chloe, Sloane, and whomever else this monster might victimize.

"Yes," she finally replied. "Let's do this."

They entered the building, and there was little immediate evidence of the structure's former use. There were no fixtures, shelves, or counters, and the entire first floor was basically one large concrete slab. Large windows ran the length of the building, mostly painted black except for a foot or so on top of each pane.

Perry motioned for Kendra and Lynch to follow him down a short hallway on the right, which was crowded with a dozen law-enforcement personnel. They entered the large walk-in cooler, which measured perhaps ten by fourteen feet. Inside, it was difficult to hear anything but the roar of the refrigeration unit and fans. It was frigid in there, of course, even with the door propped open by an empty plastic crate. The unit was empty except for a few rusty metal racks.

And, of course, the body of a beautiful young woman.

"Who is she?" Kendra asked, trying to keep her composure.

Perry checked his phone's notes app. "Her name's Lanie Campbell. She went missing two days ago while running in the Golden Hill neighborhood near Balboa Park. She was twenty-six years old. She leaves behind a husband and a baby girl."

Kendra wanted to turn away, but she couldn't take her eyes off Lanie Campbell, with her long blond hair and beautifully sculpted cheekbones. She wore formfitting athletic clothes and running shoes. Her throat displayed the same patterned bruising as victims going back fifteen years, and as Griffin had said, the corpse was bound by the distinctive restraints that had become the killer's trademark.

Kendra stepped closer. There was a gold locket around the corpse's neck, and she wondered if it held a picture of her infant daughter or her husband. Maybe both, Kendra thought, as the sick feeling rose in her stomach.

She turned away. "I've seen enough."

Lynch grabbed her arm and steered her through the group of FBI forensics techs who were just entering the cooler. Once they had cleared the crush of investigators in the hallway outside, Kendra leaned back against the wall.

"Tough one," Lynch said.

"They're all tough, but… yeah."

Perry finally made his way through the crowd and stood next to Kendra. After a long moment of silence, he leaned against the wall next to her. "When I started out in this job, I hated having to pretend like it didn't bother me to see things like that. But I have to tell you… what I hated even more is when I realized I wasn't so bothered by it anymore. Hang on to that feeling, Dr. Michaels."

She managed a smile. "I don't think I have much choice."

"Good. Listen, we have the building owner outside. He met the guy who rented this place. Wanna go talk to him with me?"

"Sure."

Lynch's phone vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled it out and glanced at the screen. "You two go ahead. I've been waiting for this text."

Kendra and Perry stepped out onto the front sidewalk, where a uniformed officer was standing with a rotund man in a floral-print shirt. Perry thanked the officer and turned to the man. "You're Frank Gorham?"

"That's me!"

Kendra was surprised. Gorham seemed far too chipper for someone who'd just had a corpse found on his property.

"I understand you just rented this place out last month. Can you tell us how that happened?" Perry asked.

Gorham shrugged. "How it always happens, I guess. Someone gives me money, and they move in. This place belonged to my grandfather. It was a wholesale butcher shop for, like, thirty years. After he closed it, he didn't have any luck renting this building out, and neither have I. I don't want to sell right now, because this neighborhood is changing. I figure if I wait a few years, I might be able to get a lot more. Anyway, someone saw the FOR LEASE sign and called me. We met the next day."

"What did he say he wanted it for?" Kendra said.

"He planned to start a delivery kitchen, and he thought this place might be good for that. He said he'd pay five thousand dollars a month until he got it up and running, then it would go up from there."

"What did he look like?" Kendra asked.

"Longish dark hair, beard, horn-rimmed glasses. He seemed like a cool guy."

Right, Kendra thought, remembering the dead young mother she'd just seen inside. A real cool guy.

She pulled out her phone and displayed one of the sketches Bill Dillingham had drawn of her and Pauley's attacker. "Did he look like this?"

"Mmm, sort of. But not really."

She flipped through the alternative sketches he'd done, and Gorham had similar responses to each. She made a mental note to have Bill draw one with a wig and a fake beard and show it to this guy later.

"You had a rental contract with him, right?" Perry said. "Did you have it witnessed by a notary, or happen to get a copy of his driver's license or maybe even a thumbprint?"

Gorham tugged on his shirt, which was a size too small for his ample frame. "Uh, no. None of those things. Sorry. I just downloaded a property rental agreement from the Web."

Back inside the building, there were raised voices that were unmistakably urgent and excited. Perry turned. "What's going on in there?"

After a moment, one of the forensics techs stuck her head out the door. "Detective, you should come see this." She turned to Kendra. "You too, ma'am."

Kendra was surprised to be summoned alongside Perry, but she followed him back into the walk-in cooler, where the forensics techs and photographer had cleared a path for them. The corpse's gold locket was now open on her chest, probably after being examined and photographed by the crime scene investigators.

"Oh, my God," Perry whispered. He stood in front of it for a long moment.

"Are you going to let me see?" Kendra said.

"I really don't know."

"What are you talking about, Perry?"

He looked dazed as he finally stepped aside to allow Kendra to see what was causing all the fuss. She bent over to look at the locket.

There, Kendra saw a picture of herself.

Her breath left her as she straightened and backed away. "What in the hell—?"

"He knew you'd see it," Lynch said.

She turned. Lynch was now standing behind her.

Perry nodded. "He's toying with you. He knew we'd have you out to take a look, wherever he decided to drop her off."

Kendra looked at the photo again. "This is my head shot, the one I use for academic conferences. He could have gotten it anywhere." She shook her head. "As if I didn't think he was a sick bastard already."

Lynch rubbed her arms. "Come on, let's get out of here."

They turned and left the building.

They walked in silence most of the way back to the car before Lynch spoke. "How are you doing? Okay?"

"Yes. I mean, it's disturbing, but it's not as bad as a maniac trying to kill me in my garage."

"An interesting perspective."

"Some days, you just gotta see the glass as half full."

As they drove away from the factory, Kendra looked back at the crush of squad cars, forensic vans, and television news trucks. "Did it occur to anyone that maybe they should keep things quiet and just watch and wait from one of these buildings across the street? The Bayside Strangler was definitely going to come back here to get his victim and take her to display somewhere. It was his MO."

"You're right," Lynch said. "But you don't realize how incredibly difficult it is to keep a secret like this in a big-city law-enforcement agency. Especially in this age of social media and so-called citizen journalists. It will be interesting to see how long they can keep your locket photograph a secret."

"I understand, but they may as well put up a neon sign that says BAYSIDE STRANGLER, STAY AWAY! I'm kind of sorry I told them where to look. You and I could have found it and set up our own stakeout."

"True, but there's no guarantee he would lead us to the Morgan sisters. I'm rather hoping he can't."

She nodded. "You and me both."

At that moment, a black Lincoln town car swerved in front of them and abruptly stopped. Lynch had to jam on his brakes to keep from hitting it. "Shit!"

The town car's back door opened, and an elderly man in a turtleneck and a blazer stepped out. He looked up and down the deserted side street, then waved to them.

"What's he doing?" Kendra said.

"Saying hello." Lynch gave a slight nod back. "I know him."

"From where?"

"From work. That's Joseph Highcastle, former attorney general of the United States."

The man walked toward them with a stiff gait and stepped around to the driver's side window. "Mr. Lynch, Dr. Michaels… I would very much like to speak to you. If you would like to join me in my car, I promise to take only a few minutes of your time."

Lynch nodded. "Sure. But not in your car."

"I assure you that—"

"Downey Square is a couple of blocks down on the right. We can talk there."

Highcastle shrugged and walked back to his car.

"You don't trust him?" Kendra asked.

"I trust very few people in this world. It doesn't hurt to be cautious."

They followed Highcastle's car to a corner plaza adjacent to one of the city's largest office buildings. They parked on the street and climbed out of their cars. Highcastle motioned toward a bench across from a low fountain, and Lynch nodded. They joined him on the bench.

Highcastle leaned toward Kendra. "Pleased to meet you, Dr. Michaels. I assume you've been told who I am?"

She nodded. "Yes, Mr. Highcastle. I've just been filled in."

Highcastle turned toward Lynch. "And it's very good to see you again, Mr. Lynch."

"It's been a few years. I thought you were retired."

"I am. I've been enjoying it thoroughly. But I occasionally help out where I can."

"Is that why you're here? Helping out?"

He nodded. "You two have been creating quite a stir."

"Only in the best possible way," Lynch said. "We're just trying to find Chloe and Sloane Morgan."

"Or were they creating a stir, too?" Kendra blurted out.

Highcastle smiled. "They were, actually. But I have nothing but admiration for those two young ladies. They've been incredibly persistent in investigating their mother's murder. I think their efforts have been so inspiring that a former government employee recently revealed some extremely sensitive information to them."

"Information like the Dayton Group?" Kendra asked.

"Among other things. The man's name was Justin Setzer. I'm sure his heart was in the right place, but it immediately placed the Morgan sisters' lives in great danger. And his own. He was murdered shortly before those women disappeared. And it might just place your lives in danger."

"How?" Lynch said. "Tell us about the Dayton Group. What are we up against here?"

"I don't suppose you'll just accept my warning and let it go at that."

"Not on your life," Kendra said.

Highcastle chuckled. "I wouldn't have flown in from Maryland if I thought I could have gotten away with that."

"Then tell us," Lynch said.

Highcastle let out a long sigh, then went into it. "There was a government intelligence group based here in San Diego. It was headed by an officer named Victor Krebb. He was a good man. They were extremely effective at hunting down spies, saboteurs, and other enemies of the United States, and their methods could be brutal when the situation demanded it. When there were concerns about possible foreign surveillance of the government building where they were based, they eventually moved some of their most sensitive operations to a house they rented in Coronado."

"The Baum house," Kendra said.

"Yes. That's when they adopted the name the Dayton Group."

"The Dayton Group…" Kendra said. "That's the name they used to rent the house."

Highcastle nodded. "Yes. Certain purchases and travel arrangements were made and expensed under that name. I still haven't gotten a straight answer as to why they called themselves that, but creating corporate fronts for covert operations isn't all that unusual. Anyway, it was around that time that a young man named Rod Wallace joined the team. He was an army vet, and his psych profiles were right on the edge of acceptability. But he was extremely good at what he did. He could be counted on to do what needed to be done, no matter how distasteful it may have been to other members of the team."

"Charming," Kendra said.

"Well, that wasn't even the worst of it. Apparently, his work for the Dayton Group wasn't enough to satisfy his appetites. Soon Krebb and his team discovered he was none other than the Bayside Strangler."

Kendra slowly shook her head, sickened at what she was hearing. "So what happened?"

"He was arrested, of course, but no one quite knew what to do with him. There couldn't be a public trial, because that would have meant revealing the activities of the Dayton Group. Eventually, it was decided that he would be held in one of our ‘partner prisons' overseas."

"Like the ones where we hold international terrorists for interrogation?" Kendra asked.

Highcastle nodded. "Those facilities serve an important and necessary purpose."

"If you say so. Why isn't he there now?"

Highcastle took a deep breath. "He never made it there. He escaped during the transfer process. He was familiar with our protocols, so it was probably too easy for him. The Dayton Group and their team leader, Krebb, immediately swung into action to track him down. Within two weeks, Krebb reported that Rod Wallace had been killed in a boat explosion. He even testified to it in a classified oversight hearing. What went unsaid is that the Dayton Group may have been responsible for his death, but no one was too upset about that."

"Of course not," Lynch said. "His death would solve a problem for everyone."

"That's what we thought. The Bayside Strangler murders stopped, and everyone went on with their lives. What we didn't know is that Rod Wallace was alive and well, traveling through western and central Europe and continuing to do lethal jobs for Victor Krebb. We can't prove it yet, but it appears that Krebb may have helped him escape and fake his death so that he could be Krebb's own personal secret weapon. The Dayton Group was eventually disbanded, but our intelligence suggests that Krebb may now be in charge of his own team of mercenaries doing jobs for the highest bidder. No one seems keen to pursue charges against him, since he has knowledge of actions that would be embarrassing to many powerful people."

"What happened to the Morgan sisters?" Kendra asked.

"Frankly, we don't know. They may not even be alive."

"I think they are," Lynch said. "I spoke to Todd Williams just before he died yesterday. He wasn't extremely coherent, but it seemed like whoever killed him was still looking for Chloe and Sloane."

"Well, obviously we suspect it's Krebb and his team who have been trying to hunt them down and seize the information they've gathered that exposes the involvement of the Bayside Strangler with the Dayton Group."

Lynch nodded. "And you suspect that Krebb brought Wallace, the Bayside Strangler himself, back here to help in the search?"

"Surely it's more than a coincidence that his killings have suddenly resumed after all this time. Our profilers think that being back in San Diego may have triggered a compulsion for Wallace to resume his most famous string of crimes."

Lynch looked at Kendra for a long moment before turning back to Highcastle. "You've gone to a great deal of trouble to tell us all this. Why?"

Highcastle shrugged. "Much of this went on under my DOJ, and I bear some responsibility. I've been brought in to consult on this case in the past week or so, and I understand what the two of you have been going through. You've been feeling your way in the dark, and in doing so, you risk exposing more than anyone in government wishes. Of course, the Department of Justice also values your relationship with them, Mr. Lynch. Naturally all our gratitude is very deep and sincere."

Lynch was smiling but there was the faintest thread of sarcasm in his tone. "Thank you. I'm honored by your trust."

"What now?" Kendra asked.

Highcastle stood. "That's entirely up to you. I think you're doing a noble thing by trying to find those women. We've been operating under the assumption that they're probably dead, but your conversation with Todd Williams gives us alternatives to consider. If they are alive, it's only a matter of time before Krebb, Wallace, and those mercenaries track them down."

"That's why it's important that we find them first," Kendra said.

Highcastle smiled. "Like I said, very noble of you. We know who the Bayside Strangler is, but until we catch him, there's every possibility he'll disappear again. He's good at that, and who knows when he would ever reappear?" Highcastle straightened his jacket. "I trust you'll appreciate the sensitivity of this information and not spread it unnecessarily. Nice to see you both."

Highcastle walked back to his town car and climbed into the backseat. The car pulled away from the curb, leaving Kendra and Lynch still staring stunned on the plaza bench.

"We have to find Chloe and Sloane," Kendra said. "Fast."

"I may have found something that will help us."

Kendra stared at him. "When?"

"When we were in that factory. I told you I was able to get the contents of Williams' phone, but his email was encrypted. I turned it over to a miraculous friend of mine based in Romania. She cracked it and sent the unencrypted email files back to me. That's what I was looking at when you and Perry were talking to the building owner."

"What did you see?"

Lynch pulled out his phone and showed her the email. "A booking confirmation for a charter boat trip leaving Catalina Island. The charter is for Williams and two other passengers, the day after Chloe and Sloane went missing."

Kendra took the phone and looked at it. "Does it say where he was planning to go?"

"Afraid not. But it looks like they went to Catalina and hired a charter. We'll have to contact the charter boat company and see if they know."

Kendra smiled. "He took them there."

"We don't know that for sure."

"But don't you think it's likely? He tells Chloe he has someplace safe for her, and within forty-eight hours he's booked a boat charter that departs from Catalina, and she and her sister are gone."

Lynch nodded. "I think it's very likely. I'm just saying that it's not enough to go to Griffin with."

"Of course not. I'm just saying… We have to go to Catalina."

"Even if Chloe and Sloane were with him, they may not be there any longer."

"I know that. The fact that he booked a charter there makes it a strong possibility he may have taken them somewhere else from there. We need to find that charter service and find out where they went."

"I agree." Lynch punched a phone number. "And I have just the way to get there."

"You know we have to bring Harley, right?"

Lynch looked back at his car, where Harley had pushed his snout out the slightly open back window. He sighed. "Yes, but I'm not sure that island will ever be the same."