Chapter 6

Less than twenty minutes later, Detective Ronald Breen was standing alongside Kendra and Marlee in Chloe's bedroom, staring at the garrote resting next to the square-shaped hole in the floor.

Kendra crossed her arms. "I'm guessing you walked right over this."

Breen scratched his short mustache. "You guessed right. But I'm a bit curious about how in the hell you knew how to find it." He looked at Marlee. "You told her about this?"

"Nope. I didn't have a clue."

Kendra smiled. "It's a twelve-by-twelve-inch hole in the floor, Breen. It sounded like a bass drum when we walked across it. In my experience, your officers don't pay nearly as much attention to their ears as they do their eyes."

"You may be right about that. I probably walked over this thing half a dozen times." He knelt and stared at the garrote. "It does look like blood on this thing. Though I'm not sure if the Bayside Strangler actually drew blood from any of his victims."

"Two." Kendra read from her phone screen. "Leah McLane and Katrina Burge. The others just showed bruising."

Breen squinted at the gory photos on Kendra's phone. "Wow, those are police crime scene photos. Did you get those off the Web?"

"No. Courtesy of the Morgan sisters. Scans of their work that your colleague carted off yesterday afternoon."

"Oh, yeah. Perry's taken over an entire conference room with that stuff." Breen was still staring at the garrote. "You're not suggesting that this contraption is the actual murder weapon, are you?"

"I have no idea. I just think it's strange that it was so carefully hidden in the home of someone who devoted her life to finding a killer who murdered his victims with a cord just like this one."

"I won't argue with that." He produced a clear plastic evidence bag. "You didn't touch that thing with your bare hands, did you?"

"Please."

"I had to ask." He scooped up the garrote and sealed the bag. "I'll have it tested, and if it's blood, we'll run DNA."

"Good."

He looked between the two women. "You find anything else I should know about?"

"Not yet, but the day's still young. We're about to head over to the sister's place. Sloane Morgan's house." Kendra smiled. "Of course, you've already gone over it with the same fine-tooth comb you used to search this place. No way I could ever find anything there, right?"

"Very funny. Now I can see how you've earned that ‘pain in the ass' rep."

"Aw, come on. It was given purely out of affection."

"Keep telling yourself that, Dr. Michaels."

"Trust me, I will. Sometimes it's the only way I can make it through the day."

Breen chuckled as he left the room and walked toward the front door.

Marlee turned toward Kendra. "Now I see why Paula wanted to bring you in to this. You found something a whole army of cops couldn't find."

Kendra shrugged. "Still no telling if it's anything worthwhile."

"We'll know soon enough." Marlee checked the time on her phone screen. "Listen, we lost time waiting for Detective Perry to get here. I'm afraid you're going to have to go to Sloane's place by yourself."

"Are you sure?"

"Sorry. I have a business dinner, and the client is only in town this one night." Marlee fished the key from her pocket and handed it to her. It was attached to a penguin-shaped keychain. "You can give this back to me later. There's an alarm there, but I left it off in case the police want to go back in. If Paula trusted you, I can trust you. If you have any questions, call me. Okay?"

"Sure."

"Thank you, Kendra. Please let me know if you find anything."

"I will."

Kendra drove to Golden Hill, a downtown neighborhood that possessed a decidedly artsy vibe. Within easy walking distance of the Gaslamp district and Balboa Park, the community featured several recording studios and art galleries. It was also home to one of her favorite restaurants, the Turf Supper Club, where she and her friends often gathered around an indoor cooking pit, grilled their own steaks, and consumed craft cocktails.

Kendra almost laughed when she realized that Sloane's address was a building she'd noticed many times since its groundbreaking two years before. The six-story structure was constructed to look like an old factory that had been repurposed to hold a collection of artist's lofts. The design was obviously in the interest of attracting hipster tenants who populated the area. It was marketed as studio space, but the sidewalk signs also noted that the units were zoned for residential use.

Kendra took the large industrial elevator to the fifth floor, amazed at the extent to which the builders made the new structure appear to be over a century old. Unbelievable. It was almost like a Disneyland attraction.

Kendra exited the elevator and found Sloane's unit at the end of the hallway. She inserted the key, entered, and locked the door behind her. It was a spacious apartment with floor-to-ceiling windows, wood floors, and exposed ceiling pipes and HVAC ducts that continued the industrial theme. The lights of the city sparkled outside, and the lack of any window treatments gave her the feeling of being in a fishbowl.

Kendra looked at the artwork on the walls. They were modern mixed-media pieces that combined oils with time-lapse photography, and all appeared to be Sloane's work. Very impressive.

A purse and keys were on the kitchen counter. Kendra assumed Sloane's phone had been taken by the police in the hope of gleaning some useful info from it.

Kendra looked in the bedroom and bathrooms, and saw little of interest except indications that Sloane was dating two men and possibly one woman. None probably knew about the others, judging by her elaborate attempts to hide certain toiletries in the back shelves of her linen closet.

All in all, the place had a more relaxed and easier vibe than her sister's house, better decorated and arranged for entertainment and relaxation. But still no indication of what had happened to her. And, as far as Kendra could tell, no hidden bloody weapons.

Thump.

The sound came from the front door.

She listened. Someone was working on the lock. After a few seconds, the lock was thrown, and the door swung open.

Footsteps. A man, probably, with long strong strides. A cop? A boyfriend of Sloane's?

She called out. "Hello?"

The footsteps stopped.

"Hello?" she repeated.

All the unit's lights shut off.

What the hell…? She reached for the bedroom lamp and hit the switch. Nothing. The main power breakers must have been thrown.

She heard the rustling of fabric in the next room. The intruder was taking pains to be quiet out there. She could play that game. She slipped out of her shoes and inched toward the doorway. She reached for a Salvador Dalí bust she'd remembered seeing on a low shelf.

Damn, it was lighter than it looked. Couldn't inflict too much damage with this thing. Maybe if she—

BAMM!

The bedroom door flew into her and knocked her off her feet. Before she could regain her footing, a strong pair of hands gripped her back jacket collar and tossed her into the living room.

Ouch.

"Find anything?" The intruder spoke in a low rasp. "Did you?"

He grabbed her again and tossed her against one of the tall windows. It cracked as she struck it. Damn. Did her head just do that?

In the next instant she found herself picked up and hurled back at the fractured pane. This time the glass shattered and rained down in pieces on the sidewalk far below.

Shit. She was inches away from raining down there herself.

Cool wind blasted through the apartment, and traffic sounds echoed from the street.

She rolled over and took her first look at the attacker. As she'd surmised from his footsteps, he was indeed a tall man. He was dressed entirely in black and wore a black hoodie with ski mask attached with gold-colored snaps.

He leaned down and grabbed her. "What did you give the cop? Tell me!" He slid her closer to the window's edge.

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb. I know who you are, Kendra Michaels. I know what you're doing."

"At least one of us does."

"Enough!" He thrashed her back and forth, scraping the back of her neck over the broken windowpane.

"Okay! Just tell me what you want."

The man leaned close. "What did you give him?"

Kendra took a deep breath. She wasn't going to get a better shot at this. She swung her left arm upward, still gripping the Dalí statue.

Contact!

Blood and a single tooth flew from the man's mouth as he screamed and fell backward.

Guess that bust was heavy enough after all.

She struck him again. His howl was even more bloodcurdling this time. Good.

She rolled away and ran for the door. He was a heartbeat behind. She pulled down a tall bookshelf and a shorter one next to it, listening with relief as she heard him stumble over them.

She ran into the hallway. Shit. What now?

Three studios in the hallway had light leaking from beneath their closed doors.

She tried the first door.

Locked.

The second door.

Also locked.

Movement behind her. He'd pulled himself to his feet and was on his way.

She ran toward the third door and grabbed the knob. It turned! She opened it, slid inside, and closed and locked it behind her.

"Hey!"

Kendra spun around and put her finger to her lips, shushing a young man in a goatee chopping vegetables at his kitchen island. He was standing in front of a camera and tripod.

"I'm recording a YouTube video here! You just ruined a take."

"Shhh!" She hit the wall switch and turned off the lights.

"Come on!"

"Shhh!" Kendra pressed her eye to the peephole. She saw her attacker half staggering, half running past the door and down the hallway. He was heading toward the stairs, just as she'd hoped.

But then he stopped.

Shit.

He turned. Still wearing his ski mask, he appeared to be looking right at her. Could he tell that she was blocking light from the peephole?

Another long moment. He turned and ran for the stairs.

She faced the YouTuber, who still held up his knife as if he might have to use it as a weapon. "Relax. The bad guy was on the other side of this door, and now he's gone." She flipped on the lights and pulled out her phone. "I'm here looking into your neighbor's disappearance. Sloane Morgan. Know her?"

"No. To be honest, I'd never heard of her until she went missing. I already talked to the police about her."

"I'm not a cop, but I'm about to call one. Mind if I hang here until they show up?"

He finally lowered the knife. "Uh, okay. But after you make your call, I need to finish up here with my cooking demonstration. My fans are expecting it by midnight."

She wasn't sure she had heard him correctly. "Your—"

"My fans."

"Right. Thanks." She punched the number.

Kendra only had to endure three takes of the young man's food prep demonstration before Detectives Perry and Breen appeared with a pair of uniformed officers in the hallway outside.

She flung open the door. "Did you get him?"

"Not so far," Breen said. "We have ten officers downstairs, but no one matching that description is anywhere around. Of course, all he would have to do is ditch the jacket and mask, and he could be standing on the sidewalk drinking a caffe latte and we wouldn't have any idea."

Perry's gaze was examining her forehead. "You're bleeding."

She lightly rubbed the wound. "Head versus plate-glass window. Neither one of us did well against the other."

"You should have that looked at."

"No, it's pretty much clotted. I'd rather you look at Sloane Morgan's apartment. I drew blood and, I believe, a front tooth from our guy. Maybe we can get a DNA hit from it."

Perry smiled. "Well done. Let's go see."

They walked back down to the apartment. The wind from the broken window was colder and more intense than before. Two uniformed officers were already on the scene, and they had restored power to the unit. Kendra crouched next to the twin puddles of blood next to the shattered pane. She pointed to one. "Okay, this is mostly his blood, and you'll find even more on that Salvador Dalí statue."

Perry looked around. "Which way did the tooth go?"

"Look toward the kitchen."

One of the uniformed officers shone his flashlight on the floor near the small dinette set. "Sir?"

Perry bent over a bloody object. "That's it. I think you may have ripped out a piece of his gums along with it. Wherever he is right now, he's not feeling too good."

"Glad to hear it."

He bagged the tooth and used a Sharpie to mark the label. "I'll make sure forensics swabs the blood in here."

"Thanks. But there's something else." Kendra looked out the window, knowing that her attacker could be on the street below, watching their every move. She backed away. "This guy knew who I was and what I've been doing. He knew I gave you something."

"The files?"

"It seemed more specific than that, but he didn't quite know. He kept asking what I gave you. I think he may have been referring to that garrote I found at Chloe's house and gave Breen right before I came here."

"You think you may have been followed today?" Breen said.

"I'm not sure. But I don't see how else he could have known that. Or that I'd be coming here."

Perry nodded. "Well, thanks to you, he gifted us his DNA. Did you find anything else here?"

"No. It's funny, but there's something that this place has in common with her sister's. There's absolutely no evidence, no scrap of paper, nothing, that they were investigating the Bayside Strangler murders, even though we know it has consumed their lives for years."

Perry shrugged. "Maybe it all went into the files."

"Maybe."

"In any case, maybe you shouldn't go anywhere you might ordinarily be expected."

"Like my home? My job?" She shook her head. "I can't just walk away from my entire life. Certainly not my career."

"I understand. But until we know who this is and what he's after, you need to be careful. Do you need a ride?"

"No. I'm parked on the street."

"Let one of our men walk you to your car." Perry gestured toward one of the uniformed police officers. "Can't be too careful…"

Can't be too careful.

Detective Perry's warning was still ringing in her ears during the short drive back to her condo. Lynch would certainly concur, she thought wryly. Paula Chase was dead, the Morgan sisters were missing, and she'd almost been thrown out a fifth-story window. Yeah, a little caution was in order.

Kendra received a call from Olivia two hours later. She was obviously not pleased. "I believe you'd better come home," she said curtly. "I don't know if I can handle this mess."

"Mess?" Kendra stiffened. "What kind of mess? I don't remember any mess in your life that you haven't managed to handle since we met as children at the academy. What's different about this one?" Then her thoughts were immediately flying to the death of Paula Chase. "Where are you? Are you safe?"

"I'm not the issue here."

"Then what is the issue?"

"You. Were you just not going to tell me that you were attacked tonight?"

"How in the hell did you know about that?" It suddenly dawned on her. "It was Lynch, wasn't it? I can't believe he called you."

"It wasn't Lynch. It was your police sketch artist friend."

"Bill Dillingham?"

"He's here in the building. Some of his buddies on the force told him about what happened to you tonight. He's feeling guilty about getting you involved in this case. I think he wants to stand watch in front of your door. He went to your unit, and when he found out you weren't home, he looked for you here at my place."

Kendra shook her head. Between Lynch's sources and Bill's, she couldn't make a move without everybody knowing about it.

"Olivia, I'm fine."

"How do you know? You didn't even go to the hospital."

"You know that, too? Jeez, I may as well walk around twenty-four seven with a Ring camera strapped to my head."

"Not a bad idea." She added crossly, "And where is Lynch?"

"Lynch is in Switzerland saving the world," Kendra said. "And he doesn't owe me anything. I keep telling you that. We both run our own lives. I'll be back at my condo in thirty minutes to handle your ‘mess.' Which I can't see can be laid at my door. Never mind. I'll see what's going on when I get there. Okay?"

"Okay," Olivia said. She was silent a moment. "It's only a mess because I care about you and I felt helpless to do anything for you. See you when you get here." She hung up the phone. Which left Kendra frustrated and confused and tempted to call her right back and make her explain in detail. This wasn't like Olivia at all. Her friend was one of the most clever and capable people Kendra knew, and she'd had to be. She'd had to cope with being blind since she was a small child and had still managed to set up and run a successful business. Olivia made sure everyone knew that there was nothing she wasn't capable of handling. She would never admit to a weakness unless it was one she could overcome. So it might be that she had another agenda in mind and was using the excuse as a subterfuge. There had to be another reason Olivia was so upset. She had mentioned Lynch specifically, and that might be one key. Olivia liked Lynch, and she appreciated his protectiveness and expertise.

But Lynch had his own life and career. What did Kendra know? Maybe they hadn't even sent him to Switzerland this time. Lynch was a one-man army when he chose and wrote his own rules. The last thing Kendra wanted was for him to know about her being hurt this evening. Olivia was entirely too protective and thought she always knew what was best. Kendra just had to make certain that Olivia's problem didn't become her own problem. And to do that she had to clarify what the hell that was right away.

The next moment she was dialing Olivia's condo. "Okay, what the hell is happening? And I don't want any bullshit about messes and how ineffectual you are. Talk to me."

"I was wondering how long it was going to take you," Olivia said. "I was disappointed in you."

"Talk to me," Kendra repeated. "I'm ready to strangle you. Tell me you didn't talk to Lynch about anything that's going to make me have to explain."

"You should have told him everything yourself." She hesitated. "But I didn't know where he was. So I couldn't reach him. You weren't being fair. I do have some respect for your privacy. Lynch had nothing to do with the problem I'm having. Now I have to go talk to security. Come to my condo when you get here. We probably need to talk."

"That's why I'm calling you now. I'm not going to run home unless it's vitally important. This Morgan sisters disappearance case has gotten… complicated."

"Yeah, well, a dead body and your attempted murder does seem pretty complicated."

"It's nothing to worry about."

"I'll be the judge of that," Olivia said.

As always, Olivia was perceptive as hell.

"I have one more stop to make," Kendra said, "but I'll be there as soon as I can unless you tell me that it takes precedence."

"Over a bloody corpse and possible bodily harm?" Olivia asked. "Never where you're concerned. I was just hoping to distract you. I should have known it wouldn't. Just promise me to be careful and get here as soon as you can."

"That goes without saying. I'll just do my job. I'll see you soon."

But Olivia had already hung up again.

"It took you long enough," Olivia said as she opened the door of her condo when Kendra rang the bell. "I almost gave up on you."

"No, you didn't," Kendra said. "You never give up when you make up your mind. So give me a cup of coffee and let me sit down and get my breath. I've had a rough day."

Olivia pulled Kendra into the living room and pushed her toward the coffee bar. "No leads?"

"A few but far between." She poured herself a cup of coffee and dropped down on the sofa. "And I respected and liked Paula and she shouldn't have ended up a victim. It makes me angry."

"I've heard she was a very giving person. You were bound to feel that way," Olivia said. "It goes with the territory."

"Now I wonder how you came to that conclusion?" Kendra murmured. "And who you've been talking to." She held up her hand as Olivia started to protest. "Don't bother. I ran into Bill Dillingham as I was driving into the parking garage. He looked very sheepish. What a shock and surprise." She made a face. "Not. I can see why you would be so concerned about him. Even when he was in his prime, I don't think he ever drew his service revolver. Now he's in his eighties and much more at home in his luxury retirement community, charming all the women standing in line to have their portraits drawn by him. Did he offer to draw you, too, Olivia?"

"Certainly not. I just like him, and he told me how badly he feels about involving you in something dangerous. I thought it wouldn't hurt for you to let him talk to you and maybe recommend a friendly policeman to keep an eye on you."

"I don't want one of his buddies to keep an eye on me, and I certainly don't want Bill feeling guilty about introducing me to Paula. It was entirely my decision." She put her cup down on the coffee table. "And now I have to go and find Bill and have a very difficult conversation with him. Thank you very much, Olivia."

"You're welcome," Olivia said. "You do know there's a perfectly simple way to settle this? Only you won't accept it."

"Because it's not my solution." Kendra was heading for the front door. "Back off."

"As if I'd get in your way. But after you have your talk, be sure you invite Bill to come back for a late dinner. I want to make certain he has a solid meal before you throw him out in the street. He told me that he was looking forward to it." She smiled. "Be gentle to him. After all, he's not in his first youth."

Kendra gritted her teeth. "I'll try to restrain myself."

"I know you will," Olivia said. "How could you not? He's such a sweet guy and only wants to make things easier for you. I'm sure you'll come to an understanding. I'll start cooking."

"You do that." Kendra closed the door behind her and headed for the elevator.

Bill was waiting there for her, smiling mischievously, eyes twinkling, leaning against the wall next to the elevator. "Am I in trouble?"

"Maybe a little." She sighed. "Because Olivia didn't start all this commotion on her own. You had a hand in it. What are you doing camping out in the hall?"

"Trying to keep a low profile." He reached out and touched the bloody bruise on her temple. "Nasty." His lips tightened. "Are you okay?"

"Of course I am. The bastard just wanted to take something I wasn't prepared to give him." She shrugged. "Not that I have any idea what that was."

"Which reinforces the reason why you should let me protect you," Bill said. "I felt guiltier than ever about introducing you to Paula when I found out what happened. Maybe we should team up. It's not as if I wasn't a police officer first before I was an artist." He opened his coat and showed her his holstered automatic. "You can see I'm prepared to do that."

"I'm afraid I prefer the artist persona, Bill," Kendra said gently. "You look a little odd toting a gun."

"You could get used to it." His voice was wistful. "I kind of like the idea of protecting you. Think about it. I do get a little bored occasionally. It seemed something that would be worthwhile."

"My sincere thanks," Kendra said. She meant it. She could see how Bill would have moments when life would seem a little dull. Didn't everyone? "Maybe we can set up something when life isn't quite so hectic. But Perry seemed determined to keep me on his radar after what happened. Check with me tomorrow or the next day. And please don't tell Olivia anything more about what happens to me."

"Ah, an undercover assignment," Bill said. "It would be my pleasure to spare her that worry."

"I don't believe pleasure will be the correct word," Kendra said. She linked her arm in his and said cheerfully, "But in the meantime, let's go eat one of Olivia's wonderful dinners before I walk you back to your car this evening."

"I look forward to it." Bill was frowning a little. "If you're certain Perry is going to furnish you with an armed escort to keep you safe…"