Hindsight, page 22
She made a rude sound.
“I take it that you’re trying to burst my bubble so I’ll change the subject.” He tilted his head, watching her examine the car. “Anything?”
She pointed to the left-rear quarter panel. “Traces of mud just above the tires, but the color and consistency aren’t unlike what you’d find almost anywhere in Southern California. Not much help there.”
“Too bad.”
She looked through the side windows. “The driver’s seat is adjusted all the way back and the steering wheel is angled upward, indicating a tall man, well over six feet. That’s in line with Hayes’s height. The passenger seat probably sat someone a few inches shorter.”
“Like the man who was with Hayes when you saw him? You described him as being shorter.”
“Yes.” She looked at the driver’s side door. “A few light scratches here. They’re fairly high up, just under the door handle. Most likely it was dinged by another vehicle parked right next to it. Always the same vehicle, since each scratch hits at exactly the same height. A tall vehicle, maybe a jeep or SUV. We should check his parking space at the apartment complex and see who he might have been meeting.”
“The FBI team may already have photos of that. I’ll ask.”
Kendra suddenly leaned over and studied the side-view mirror. “Tell Metcalf that Hayes is wearing black tennis shoes, jeans, a gray hoodie, and aviator sunglasses.”
Lynch looked at her curiously. “You mean, when you saw him the other night?”
“No.” She snapped, “Right now.”
Lynch stared at her. “The car is telling you that?”
She nodded. “Stop asking questions. Please go tell Metcalf, dammit.”
“Not before you tell me how in the hell—?”
“I’m looking at him in this side mirror, that’s how.” Her voice was shaking. “He’s watching us from behind that food truck half a block back. He just walked up and stopped short when he saw us. I don’t want to tip our hand. Tell Metcalf to have his guys take positions.”
Lynch casually nodded. “Got it.” He started strolling in Metcalf’s direction.
Kendra circled around the front of the car, trying not to reveal that she had Hayes in her sights. The temptation was almost overpowering to glance in his direction. Why the hell was he taking this risk? Why didn’t he run? Maybe Lynch was right about him not being very smart. Or maybe there was something in this car that he didn’t want to be found. Either way, all she cared about was keeping him here until they could get their hands on him. This could be the man who had stalked and killed Elaine. How many times had he followed her, watched her, and planned how he was going to do it? And she had never known, never realized, someone was there, ready to take her life.
You son of a bitch, I see you.
Lynch had reached Metcalf and spoke quietly. Metcalf played it perfectly, registering no surprise at the news.
But a nearby ERT tech wasn’t so smooth. He turned to steal a glance back toward the food truck.
Shit!
Hayes caught it. He bolted away, running toward a row of storefronts behind him.
Lynch was off in a shot, pounding the pavement before anyone else realized what was happening.
Instinctively, Kendra ran after him. Metcalf shouted into his radio, barking commands to the other agents and police officers on-site. Within seconds, the block had erupted in a chaotic scene with agents scrambling toward the storefronts, shouting as the police cruiser’s siren blared.
Kendra rounded the corner. Nothing.
Where in the hell had Lynch gone? And Hayes?
One of the storefronts had a glass door with open shades. The pull cords swung back and forth.
There!
Kendra bolted through the door and found herself in a Thai restaurant. A table had been knocked over, and two spilled water pitchers rocked on the carpeted floor. The staff and customers were obviously disturbed by some commotion.
Kendra charged through the dining room and pushed through a red curtain. She ran through the kitchen.
Pots and pans rolled across the floor, which was cluttered with broken bowls and soup.
A helpful but obviously confused cook pointed toward the back door.
Kendra nodded and ran outside to the alley. Still no sign of Lynch or Hayes.
She stopped to listen.
Pounding footsteps. But from where?
And was it from Lynch and Hayes or the half dozen FBI agents and cops now swarming the area?
BAM!
A trash can tipped over. Somewhere…
She turned. It came from the left. She ran down the alleyway following the sounds of plastic bottles hitting the pavement. It was most likely a recycling container, she realized.
She stopped.
The green plastic container was between two buildings, knocked on its side.
She ran toward it, slowing as she moved down the narrow opening between buildings. Only then did she wonder what in the hell she would do if she found Hayes. She had no gun, no weapon of any kind. What would happen if—?
A strong pair of hands covered her mouth and yanked her to the ground.
She tried to scream, but the sound was muffled by the palm pressed over her lips. She was about to bite down when she became aware of a familiar scent.
“Quiet,” Lynch whispered into her ear. “He’s near.”
She relaxed as he pulled his hand from her mouth and then drew a shaky breath. “Risky,” she whispered back. “Your bitten-off fingers almost ended up on the ground.”
“Worth the risk.” His eyes darted down the narrow opening between buildings. “I think he’s down there somewhere.” Lynch picked up the handgun he’d obviously put down to grab her and drew her behind the nearest dumpster. They crouched there, their gaze narrowed on the opening.
More police sirens wailed in the distance.
Lynch nodded to a pile of shipping cartons. “He could be there. Or maybe in one of the other dumpsters.”
Kendra shook her head. “All those dumpsters have locks.”
“Good point.” Lynch picked up a crate lid and hurled it toward the stack of cartons. They tumbled to the ground, scattering across the narrow walkway between buildings.
No shots.
No wild scramble to escape notice.
Lynch peered at the scattered boxes. “No Hayes.”
They got to their feet and slowly, carefully made their way down the walkway.
Suddenly Kendra stopped and cocked her head. “Do you hear that?”
“The sirens?”
“No. Listen.” She listened again herself. “Water. Drizzling, running water. Just ahead.”
“Oh, I hear it,” Lynch said. He took two steps forward and kicked aside the largest carton on the pavement in front of them. “It’s damn familiar.”
There, under where the cartons had been, was an open manhole. The iron cover was askew, moved just to the right.
Lynch cursed and began lowering himself into the manhole. He said to Kendra, “Call Metcalf. Tell him that Hayes is in the sewer system. He’s going to have to pop up somewhere.”
“But we don’t know where and we have a chance to get him while he’d still down there.” She moved toward the manhole. “I’m going with you.”
“The hell you are.”
“Shut up, Lynch. Don’t be sexist.” Kendra’s fingers flew across her phone’s keyboard. “I just told Metcalf where we’re going. These sewer lines are monitored, aren’t they?”
“Some, not all. We can’t count on that.” Lynch disappeared into the sewer.
Kendra was two seconds behind. She climbed down the iron rungs, which were slimy and cool to the touch. A moment later the awful smell overcame her.
She fought an immediate gag reflex. She’d seen sewer workers wearing goggles and filter masks, and now she knew why. Her nose burned and eyes watered. She had a taste in her mouth that matched the awful stench.
“You okay?” Lynch called up to her.
“No, but I’ll live.”
“Just a warning. When you step off the rungs, you’ll be ankle-deep in sludge.”
“Great. This keeps getting better.”
Lynch helped her make her final step onto the sewer floor. Her feet landed with a sickening squish. She took one step, then another, each time pulling suction on the foul-smelling ooze.
“Which way?” Lynch asked.
“Listen.”
Kendra turned her head until she heard the faint sound of footsteps in the sludge.
Lynch heard it, too. It was coming from the east. In the distance, they saw the faint glow of a cell phone.
“He’s using GPS to map his position,” Lynch whispered.
“I recognize the sound of that limp,” Kendra said. “I think I helped give him that.”
“Well done.”
They navigated the dark sewer, working their way through each length. The odors changed every few feet, depending on the character of the streets above. Sometimes sickly sweet, sometimes sour, all of it almost unbearable.
The phone light ahead abruptly extinguished itself.
The footsteps stopped.
“He knows we’re on his tail,” Kendra said.
BLAM!
A gunshot rang out. A bullet ricocheted in the sewer’s darkness.
Kendra dove for the wall and her shoulder slammed against it.
Pain. Stabbing, excruciating pain.
BLAM! Another gunshot. This time the ricocheting bullet seemed to hit closer to Lynch.
“Hug the outer wall,” Lynch whispered. “Put away your phone.”
“Not a problem. It’s already in the bottom of that muck.” She paused to listen. “He’s on the move again.”
“Then let’s go get him.”
They quickened their pace as they reached somewhat firmer ground. The muck gave way to a thinner covering that was slicker, but at least they could move faster.
A metallic scraping sound echoed in the sewer.
They froze. The scraping sound continued, and a shaft of light suddenly appeared ahead.
Kendra turned to Lynch. “He’s going back up to the street.”
They ran toward the light, but before they could reach it, another metallic sound filled her ears.
It was dark once more.
“He’s gone,” Kendra said. “And he put the cover back.”
Lynch pulled out his phone and dropped a pin in their GPS location. “I’ll send the map to Metcalf, but it’ll take them a few minutes to get here.”
Kendra ran for the iron rungs that would take them back up to the street. “He could be gone by then. We almost lost him before. We can’t wait.”
“Agreed. Let me take the lead.”
She scowled impatiently. “Because you’re a man?”
He pulled out his Beretta semiautomatic. “Would I dare say that? Because I have a gun. And because I’m incredibly well trained for situations like this. Can you say the same?”
“No, you’re right. After you.”
Lynch swiftly climbed the rungs, managing to maintain a grip on his gun as he worked his way up to the street. He pushed up on the manhole cover and slid it off to one side. He popped his head up and looked in every direction.
“See him?” Kendra said from below him.
Lynch climbed up to the street. “Afraid not.”
Kendra gripped the rungs and pulled herself up. Her fingers throbbed in pain, and only then did she realize that one of the cuts on her left hand had reopened. A little blood was soaking through the bandage.
It was probably nothing. Work through the pain. She could take care of the wound later.
She scrambled the rest of the way up the rungs and joined Lynch on the street above. They were on Nineteenth Street in front of a row of empty storefronts.
“Shit,” Lynch said. “We lost him.”
Kendra stiffened in panic. Then she smiled. “No way. He was trudging through the same muck we were. Look at the sidewalk.” She pointed to a set of footprints leading down the street. “Though I guess he could have erected a big neon sign reading, ‘Killer this way.’”
“Too subtle.”
Then they set off down the street at a run, following the trail of green-brown ooze for a block and a half to Pacific Arms, a dilapidated six-story downtown hotel that had been partially converted to low-cost government-assisted housing. A muddy pair of sneakers sat outside the front door.
“Considerate,” Lynch said. “And maybe not as subtle as I thought.”
Kendra threw open the door, and they ran through the musty lobby. Lynch grabbed her arm and pointed to the elevator, which had an old-style analog indicator above the door.
The elevator was on the third floor.
“Stairs,” Lynch said.
They ran into the stairwell, which smelled even mustier than the lobby. They flew up the stairs to the third floor, where the stairwell opened at the end of a long carpeted hallway. The walls were a dark burgundy color, topped by a gold crown molding that was chipped and peeling.
“Okay,” Lynch whispered. “He could be in any one of these rooms. We’ll hold down the fort until Metcalf gets here. I’ll text him now.”
It seemed like a good idea until she had another thought. “What if Hayes goes out a fire escape? He’s shown himself to be very comfortable doing that.”
“Then what do you propose?”
“I’ll just tell you which room he’s in.” She started down the hallway.
“How?”
Her head moved from right to left and back as she progressed down the long hallway. “Keep your distance. Give me ten feet or so.”
He held his gun in front of him. “I don’t like this.”
“Just be ready. I don’t want him to get away.”
She pressed on quietly down the hallway, continuing her sweep. She stopped at the halfway point.
No. False alarm.
She resumed her journey until she finally found herself at the second-to-last door to the right. She turned back to Lynch and pointed at the door.
Are you sure? he mouthed.
Positive, she mouthed back.
He looked confused, but he motioned for her to step back. He silently tried the doorknob. Locked.
He put his hand out and mouthed, Stay here.
He counted down with his fingers.
Three…
Two…
One!
Lynch kicked in the door and body-rolled into the room before the doorframe’s splinters had even hit the floor.
No sound from the interior of the room.
Kendra instinctively moved toward the broken door. “Lynch!”
Lynch muttered a curse. “Stay where you are, dammit.”
She froze as she heard doors opening and closing then the sound of window blinds.
Lynch cursed again before calling out. “Kendra…All clear.”
She ran into the room. No Hayes. “He got away? How could he have possibly—”
She stopped in her tracks, shocked.
Holy shit.
Because Hayes was there.
He was dead.
Hayes was on the floor of the room, glazed eyes open, with a gunshot wound that pierced his forehead and blew apart the back of his skull.
He was still shoeless with his pant cuffs drenched from sewer sludge.
“What in the hell?” Kendra said, dazed.
“Good question. He fought awful hard to get to a place where he’d just get his head blown off.” Lynch motioned toward the window. “And you were right to be afraid of the fire escape. Looks like that’s how his killer got away.” Lynch holstered his gun. “By the way, how did you know Hayes was in here?”
She moistened her lips. “It was the only room on the floor that smelled like a sewer. Of course, you and I smell the same way so it wasn’t easy. That’s why I asked you to back off.”
He made a face. “Should have figured out that one myself.”
Kendra was still staring dazedly at Hayes’s corpse, where blood was spreading slowly onto the carpeted floor. “Shit. All of this was for nothing. We needed him.”
“That’s probably why he died.” Lynch pulled out his phone. “I’ll call Metcalf. At least his Evidence Response Team is nearby. Maybe we can get some answers.”
Chapter
13
An hour later, most of the floor had been cordoned off as a crime scene and FBI Evidence Response had already dusted and swabbed the room. The medical examiner had also done his preliminary work and was tapping notes into a tablet computer while waiting for the go-ahead to cart away Hayes’s still-warm corpse.
Metcalf turned away from talking to the M.E. to join Kendra and Lynch at the door. The stare he gave Lynch was distinctly cool. “Promise me you didn’t shoot this guy.”
Lynch literally laughed in his face. “Are you serious? You think that I—?”
“I’m not thinking anything,” Metcalf interrupted. “I asked a question. I know how I’d feel if I came face-to-face with any dirtbag who’d hurt Kendra.”
“Then you know I’d get far more pleasure making the rest of his life a living hell,” Lynch said softly. “You’re being very simplistic, Metcalf.”
Kendra stepped forward. “I was there, remember?” she said impatiently. “For goodness’ sake, Lynch didn’t shoot him. And we’re trying to crack this case, not get revenge for anything that happened to me. That’s over and done with. Lynch is a professional, and he wouldn’t let personal feelings get in the way of finding out what happened at Oceanside. And unless your team found something we can use, his death is a big setback for us.”
“Well, I might let my feelings get in the way a little bit,” Lynch said. “But not to the extent of an execution-style bullet to the brain.”
“I know.” Metcalf scowled. “I guess I’m sorry. But I had to ask. It’s my job.”
“And you enjoyed it since it was aimed at me. Now that I’ve been hopefully eliminated as a suspect, did your team find anything?” Lynch asked.
Metcalf glanced back into the room. “It doesn’t look good. The entire place had been wiped down. Except for yours, there isn’t a single fingerprint to be found anywhere. Not on any of the doorknobs, not on the faucet, toilet handle, phone…The place is clean.”
“There wasn’t time to do it after he was shot,” Kendra said. “We weren’t more than a couple of minutes behind him. His death had to have been planned before he even walked in there.” She stared into the room for a moment.
“I take it that you’re trying to burst my bubble so I’ll change the subject.” He tilted his head, watching her examine the car. “Anything?”
She pointed to the left-rear quarter panel. “Traces of mud just above the tires, but the color and consistency aren’t unlike what you’d find almost anywhere in Southern California. Not much help there.”
“Too bad.”
She looked through the side windows. “The driver’s seat is adjusted all the way back and the steering wheel is angled upward, indicating a tall man, well over six feet. That’s in line with Hayes’s height. The passenger seat probably sat someone a few inches shorter.”
“Like the man who was with Hayes when you saw him? You described him as being shorter.”
“Yes.” She looked at the driver’s side door. “A few light scratches here. They’re fairly high up, just under the door handle. Most likely it was dinged by another vehicle parked right next to it. Always the same vehicle, since each scratch hits at exactly the same height. A tall vehicle, maybe a jeep or SUV. We should check his parking space at the apartment complex and see who he might have been meeting.”
“The FBI team may already have photos of that. I’ll ask.”
Kendra suddenly leaned over and studied the side-view mirror. “Tell Metcalf that Hayes is wearing black tennis shoes, jeans, a gray hoodie, and aviator sunglasses.”
Lynch looked at her curiously. “You mean, when you saw him the other night?”
“No.” She snapped, “Right now.”
Lynch stared at her. “The car is telling you that?”
She nodded. “Stop asking questions. Please go tell Metcalf, dammit.”
“Not before you tell me how in the hell—?”
“I’m looking at him in this side mirror, that’s how.” Her voice was shaking. “He’s watching us from behind that food truck half a block back. He just walked up and stopped short when he saw us. I don’t want to tip our hand. Tell Metcalf to have his guys take positions.”
Lynch casually nodded. “Got it.” He started strolling in Metcalf’s direction.
Kendra circled around the front of the car, trying not to reveal that she had Hayes in her sights. The temptation was almost overpowering to glance in his direction. Why the hell was he taking this risk? Why didn’t he run? Maybe Lynch was right about him not being very smart. Or maybe there was something in this car that he didn’t want to be found. Either way, all she cared about was keeping him here until they could get their hands on him. This could be the man who had stalked and killed Elaine. How many times had he followed her, watched her, and planned how he was going to do it? And she had never known, never realized, someone was there, ready to take her life.
You son of a bitch, I see you.
Lynch had reached Metcalf and spoke quietly. Metcalf played it perfectly, registering no surprise at the news.
But a nearby ERT tech wasn’t so smooth. He turned to steal a glance back toward the food truck.
Shit!
Hayes caught it. He bolted away, running toward a row of storefronts behind him.
Lynch was off in a shot, pounding the pavement before anyone else realized what was happening.
Instinctively, Kendra ran after him. Metcalf shouted into his radio, barking commands to the other agents and police officers on-site. Within seconds, the block had erupted in a chaotic scene with agents scrambling toward the storefronts, shouting as the police cruiser’s siren blared.
Kendra rounded the corner. Nothing.
Where in the hell had Lynch gone? And Hayes?
One of the storefronts had a glass door with open shades. The pull cords swung back and forth.
There!
Kendra bolted through the door and found herself in a Thai restaurant. A table had been knocked over, and two spilled water pitchers rocked on the carpeted floor. The staff and customers were obviously disturbed by some commotion.
Kendra charged through the dining room and pushed through a red curtain. She ran through the kitchen.
Pots and pans rolled across the floor, which was cluttered with broken bowls and soup.
A helpful but obviously confused cook pointed toward the back door.
Kendra nodded and ran outside to the alley. Still no sign of Lynch or Hayes.
She stopped to listen.
Pounding footsteps. But from where?
And was it from Lynch and Hayes or the half dozen FBI agents and cops now swarming the area?
BAM!
A trash can tipped over. Somewhere…
She turned. It came from the left. She ran down the alleyway following the sounds of plastic bottles hitting the pavement. It was most likely a recycling container, she realized.
She stopped.
The green plastic container was between two buildings, knocked on its side.
She ran toward it, slowing as she moved down the narrow opening between buildings. Only then did she wonder what in the hell she would do if she found Hayes. She had no gun, no weapon of any kind. What would happen if—?
A strong pair of hands covered her mouth and yanked her to the ground.
She tried to scream, but the sound was muffled by the palm pressed over her lips. She was about to bite down when she became aware of a familiar scent.
“Quiet,” Lynch whispered into her ear. “He’s near.”
She relaxed as he pulled his hand from her mouth and then drew a shaky breath. “Risky,” she whispered back. “Your bitten-off fingers almost ended up on the ground.”
“Worth the risk.” His eyes darted down the narrow opening between buildings. “I think he’s down there somewhere.” Lynch picked up the handgun he’d obviously put down to grab her and drew her behind the nearest dumpster. They crouched there, their gaze narrowed on the opening.
More police sirens wailed in the distance.
Lynch nodded to a pile of shipping cartons. “He could be there. Or maybe in one of the other dumpsters.”
Kendra shook her head. “All those dumpsters have locks.”
“Good point.” Lynch picked up a crate lid and hurled it toward the stack of cartons. They tumbled to the ground, scattering across the narrow walkway between buildings.
No shots.
No wild scramble to escape notice.
Lynch peered at the scattered boxes. “No Hayes.”
They got to their feet and slowly, carefully made their way down the walkway.
Suddenly Kendra stopped and cocked her head. “Do you hear that?”
“The sirens?”
“No. Listen.” She listened again herself. “Water. Drizzling, running water. Just ahead.”
“Oh, I hear it,” Lynch said. He took two steps forward and kicked aside the largest carton on the pavement in front of them. “It’s damn familiar.”
There, under where the cartons had been, was an open manhole. The iron cover was askew, moved just to the right.
Lynch cursed and began lowering himself into the manhole. He said to Kendra, “Call Metcalf. Tell him that Hayes is in the sewer system. He’s going to have to pop up somewhere.”
“But we don’t know where and we have a chance to get him while he’d still down there.” She moved toward the manhole. “I’m going with you.”
“The hell you are.”
“Shut up, Lynch. Don’t be sexist.” Kendra’s fingers flew across her phone’s keyboard. “I just told Metcalf where we’re going. These sewer lines are monitored, aren’t they?”
“Some, not all. We can’t count on that.” Lynch disappeared into the sewer.
Kendra was two seconds behind. She climbed down the iron rungs, which were slimy and cool to the touch. A moment later the awful smell overcame her.
She fought an immediate gag reflex. She’d seen sewer workers wearing goggles and filter masks, and now she knew why. Her nose burned and eyes watered. She had a taste in her mouth that matched the awful stench.
“You okay?” Lynch called up to her.
“No, but I’ll live.”
“Just a warning. When you step off the rungs, you’ll be ankle-deep in sludge.”
“Great. This keeps getting better.”
Lynch helped her make her final step onto the sewer floor. Her feet landed with a sickening squish. She took one step, then another, each time pulling suction on the foul-smelling ooze.
“Which way?” Lynch asked.
“Listen.”
Kendra turned her head until she heard the faint sound of footsteps in the sludge.
Lynch heard it, too. It was coming from the east. In the distance, they saw the faint glow of a cell phone.
“He’s using GPS to map his position,” Lynch whispered.
“I recognize the sound of that limp,” Kendra said. “I think I helped give him that.”
“Well done.”
They navigated the dark sewer, working their way through each length. The odors changed every few feet, depending on the character of the streets above. Sometimes sickly sweet, sometimes sour, all of it almost unbearable.
The phone light ahead abruptly extinguished itself.
The footsteps stopped.
“He knows we’re on his tail,” Kendra said.
BLAM!
A gunshot rang out. A bullet ricocheted in the sewer’s darkness.
Kendra dove for the wall and her shoulder slammed against it.
Pain. Stabbing, excruciating pain.
BLAM! Another gunshot. This time the ricocheting bullet seemed to hit closer to Lynch.
“Hug the outer wall,” Lynch whispered. “Put away your phone.”
“Not a problem. It’s already in the bottom of that muck.” She paused to listen. “He’s on the move again.”
“Then let’s go get him.”
They quickened their pace as they reached somewhat firmer ground. The muck gave way to a thinner covering that was slicker, but at least they could move faster.
A metallic scraping sound echoed in the sewer.
They froze. The scraping sound continued, and a shaft of light suddenly appeared ahead.
Kendra turned to Lynch. “He’s going back up to the street.”
They ran toward the light, but before they could reach it, another metallic sound filled her ears.
It was dark once more.
“He’s gone,” Kendra said. “And he put the cover back.”
Lynch pulled out his phone and dropped a pin in their GPS location. “I’ll send the map to Metcalf, but it’ll take them a few minutes to get here.”
Kendra ran for the iron rungs that would take them back up to the street. “He could be gone by then. We almost lost him before. We can’t wait.”
“Agreed. Let me take the lead.”
She scowled impatiently. “Because you’re a man?”
He pulled out his Beretta semiautomatic. “Would I dare say that? Because I have a gun. And because I’m incredibly well trained for situations like this. Can you say the same?”
“No, you’re right. After you.”
Lynch swiftly climbed the rungs, managing to maintain a grip on his gun as he worked his way up to the street. He pushed up on the manhole cover and slid it off to one side. He popped his head up and looked in every direction.
“See him?” Kendra said from below him.
Lynch climbed up to the street. “Afraid not.”
Kendra gripped the rungs and pulled herself up. Her fingers throbbed in pain, and only then did she realize that one of the cuts on her left hand had reopened. A little blood was soaking through the bandage.
It was probably nothing. Work through the pain. She could take care of the wound later.
She scrambled the rest of the way up the rungs and joined Lynch on the street above. They were on Nineteenth Street in front of a row of empty storefronts.
“Shit,” Lynch said. “We lost him.”
Kendra stiffened in panic. Then she smiled. “No way. He was trudging through the same muck we were. Look at the sidewalk.” She pointed to a set of footprints leading down the street. “Though I guess he could have erected a big neon sign reading, ‘Killer this way.’”
“Too subtle.”
Then they set off down the street at a run, following the trail of green-brown ooze for a block and a half to Pacific Arms, a dilapidated six-story downtown hotel that had been partially converted to low-cost government-assisted housing. A muddy pair of sneakers sat outside the front door.
“Considerate,” Lynch said. “And maybe not as subtle as I thought.”
Kendra threw open the door, and they ran through the musty lobby. Lynch grabbed her arm and pointed to the elevator, which had an old-style analog indicator above the door.
The elevator was on the third floor.
“Stairs,” Lynch said.
They ran into the stairwell, which smelled even mustier than the lobby. They flew up the stairs to the third floor, where the stairwell opened at the end of a long carpeted hallway. The walls were a dark burgundy color, topped by a gold crown molding that was chipped and peeling.
“Okay,” Lynch whispered. “He could be in any one of these rooms. We’ll hold down the fort until Metcalf gets here. I’ll text him now.”
It seemed like a good idea until she had another thought. “What if Hayes goes out a fire escape? He’s shown himself to be very comfortable doing that.”
“Then what do you propose?”
“I’ll just tell you which room he’s in.” She started down the hallway.
“How?”
Her head moved from right to left and back as she progressed down the long hallway. “Keep your distance. Give me ten feet or so.”
He held his gun in front of him. “I don’t like this.”
“Just be ready. I don’t want him to get away.”
She pressed on quietly down the hallway, continuing her sweep. She stopped at the halfway point.
No. False alarm.
She resumed her journey until she finally found herself at the second-to-last door to the right. She turned back to Lynch and pointed at the door.
Are you sure? he mouthed.
Positive, she mouthed back.
He looked confused, but he motioned for her to step back. He silently tried the doorknob. Locked.
He put his hand out and mouthed, Stay here.
He counted down with his fingers.
Three…
Two…
One!
Lynch kicked in the door and body-rolled into the room before the doorframe’s splinters had even hit the floor.
No sound from the interior of the room.
Kendra instinctively moved toward the broken door. “Lynch!”
Lynch muttered a curse. “Stay where you are, dammit.”
She froze as she heard doors opening and closing then the sound of window blinds.
Lynch cursed again before calling out. “Kendra…All clear.”
She ran into the room. No Hayes. “He got away? How could he have possibly—”
She stopped in her tracks, shocked.
Holy shit.
Because Hayes was there.
He was dead.
Hayes was on the floor of the room, glazed eyes open, with a gunshot wound that pierced his forehead and blew apart the back of his skull.
He was still shoeless with his pant cuffs drenched from sewer sludge.
“What in the hell?” Kendra said, dazed.
“Good question. He fought awful hard to get to a place where he’d just get his head blown off.” Lynch motioned toward the window. “And you were right to be afraid of the fire escape. Looks like that’s how his killer got away.” Lynch holstered his gun. “By the way, how did you know Hayes was in here?”
She moistened her lips. “It was the only room on the floor that smelled like a sewer. Of course, you and I smell the same way so it wasn’t easy. That’s why I asked you to back off.”
He made a face. “Should have figured out that one myself.”
Kendra was still staring dazedly at Hayes’s corpse, where blood was spreading slowly onto the carpeted floor. “Shit. All of this was for nothing. We needed him.”
“That’s probably why he died.” Lynch pulled out his phone. “I’ll call Metcalf. At least his Evidence Response Team is nearby. Maybe we can get some answers.”
Chapter
13
An hour later, most of the floor had been cordoned off as a crime scene and FBI Evidence Response had already dusted and swabbed the room. The medical examiner had also done his preliminary work and was tapping notes into a tablet computer while waiting for the go-ahead to cart away Hayes’s still-warm corpse.
Metcalf turned away from talking to the M.E. to join Kendra and Lynch at the door. The stare he gave Lynch was distinctly cool. “Promise me you didn’t shoot this guy.”
Lynch literally laughed in his face. “Are you serious? You think that I—?”
“I’m not thinking anything,” Metcalf interrupted. “I asked a question. I know how I’d feel if I came face-to-face with any dirtbag who’d hurt Kendra.”
“Then you know I’d get far more pleasure making the rest of his life a living hell,” Lynch said softly. “You’re being very simplistic, Metcalf.”
Kendra stepped forward. “I was there, remember?” she said impatiently. “For goodness’ sake, Lynch didn’t shoot him. And we’re trying to crack this case, not get revenge for anything that happened to me. That’s over and done with. Lynch is a professional, and he wouldn’t let personal feelings get in the way of finding out what happened at Oceanside. And unless your team found something we can use, his death is a big setback for us.”
“Well, I might let my feelings get in the way a little bit,” Lynch said. “But not to the extent of an execution-style bullet to the brain.”
“I know.” Metcalf scowled. “I guess I’m sorry. But I had to ask. It’s my job.”
“And you enjoyed it since it was aimed at me. Now that I’ve been hopefully eliminated as a suspect, did your team find anything?” Lynch asked.
Metcalf glanced back into the room. “It doesn’t look good. The entire place had been wiped down. Except for yours, there isn’t a single fingerprint to be found anywhere. Not on any of the doorknobs, not on the faucet, toilet handle, phone…The place is clean.”
“There wasn’t time to do it after he was shot,” Kendra said. “We weren’t more than a couple of minutes behind him. His death had to have been planned before he even walked in there.” She stared into the room for a moment.
