Close Your Eyes

by Iris Johansen

  Kearny Mesa

  “You look exhausted, Sienna.” Dr. Ross, the medical examiner, frowned at her. “Go home. I can call you with results.”

  Special Agent Sienna Deever shook her head as she stared at Paul Renshaw’s corpse, shimmering in the reflection of the examination table’s stainless-steel surface. She had been with the body since her roadside blood test at 4 A.M., and the office had kept her waiting all day until her medical examiner of choice could be flown in from a conference in Denver. She had worked with Dr. Christian Ross on the other victims in this case.

  Ross was a bearded, heavyset man in his early sixties, and Sienna had been impressed with his thoroughness and powers of concentration. He had been the one to identify the DNA-altering properties in the victims’ mutagens before she had even joined the investigation.

  What was just as important, Sienna had a history with him.

  He took a scalpel from his assistant, a rail-thin young man who had barely spoken in the several hours he had been there. Ross lowered the scalpel and made a Y-shaped incision into the corpse that began at each shoulder, met at the breastbone, and continued down to the pubic area. He peeled back the muscle and soft tissue in each direction, gently placing the chest flap over the victim’s face. He looked up at Sienna. “Are you sure? I promise I’ll call you with the preliminary as soon as I’m done.”

  She half smiled behind her surgical mask. “You think I’m squeamish, Doctor?”

  “You? Nah.”

  “Good. Remember, I was in Iraq.”

  “Yeah, you’ve told me your war stories, Sienna. I’m thinking more about those deep dark circles under your eyes.”

  “I’m here for the long haul. I’ll leave when you do.”

  “Whatever. Makes no difference to me.” He used a bone cutter to clip the rib cage, then he lifted away the sternum and ribs as he sliced away the attached organ tissue. Ross studied the exposed vital organs for a long moment. “Whew,” he whispered.

  Sienna leaned over to look. “What is it?”

  “The age of the deceased is thirty-three?”

  “Thirty-three years, eight months.”

  Ross pulled down a magnifying glass attached to a tall stand. He looked through it, then motioned for Sienna to do the same. “Take a look.”

  Sienna stood over the magnifying glass. “What am I looking at?”

  “Fatty brown pigmentation in the organ tissue. You see?”

  She leaned over for a closer look. “Lipofuscin. This is more consistent with tissue in older subjects, isn’t it?”

  “Much older. I’m talking seventy, seventy-five.” He probed near the kidneys. “Much of the connective tissue here is rigid. Stiff. Also a sign of premature aging of the organs.” He looked up at her. “There were no diagnosed disease states in those records you gave me. Are you sure that’s correct?”

  “I’m positive. He hadn’t even seen a doctor in over two years, and even then, it was just for a sprained ankle.”

  Ross shook his head. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Not in the other victims?”

  “Never in my life. There are certain diseases that can cause certain internal organs to degenerate this way, but this appears to have been a systemwide process.” He spoke to his assistant. “After extraction, I’ll need you to dissect each of the organs while I go into the cranium. Document and photograph everything.” He glanced back at Sienna. “We’ll know more when we can look at the cell structure under the microscope.”

  Sienna nodded. “And then I’ve got a few calls to make.”

  * * *

  “HOW DID IT GO?” LYNCH ASKED as he came into Kendra’s office two days later. He had discreetly stayed out of her way since the attack, only appearing the previous night to take her home from the studio. “I saw Jimmy and his mom pulling out of the parking lot.”

  “Even better than I hoped. He had a good time, and if there are memories, they’ll be good ones.” For which she was profoundly grateful. Although she had arranged the session for Jimmy’s benefit, Kendra realized that she needed it as much as he did. She had been dreading going back to the office, but seeing it cleaned up and somewhat restored gave her a much more positive outlook than she had before. Within minutes, Jimmy’s only concern was playing the drums again, and that had bolstered his spirits even more.

  He was clearly ready to go on with his life.

  And so was Kendra. But how long would it be until she could have her own life back?

  Lynch was studying her expression. “How are you doing?”

  “Fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She shrugged. “That attack two days ago was something of a wake-up call. It made me face a few things I’d been avoiding.”

  “That was pretty obvious. You blew me away. Any pertinent self-revelations?”

  “I know Jeff is probably dead. I’m not stupid.”

  “It’s a very real possibility. At this point, maybe even a probability. Which is why it should spur us to find out who and why.”

  “That’s a good reason. But it isn’t mine.”

  “You’re still holding out hope that he’s alive.”

  “As long as there’s a chance, I need to do whatever I can.” Change the subject. Don’t think about Jeff. She had to focus and try to put this nightmare behind her. “Was there anything on the license plate Jimmy saw?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact. It’s registered to a white Lincoln Navigator.”

  She smiled. “He was right about its being a truck.”

  “Yes. I’m impressed. The truck belongs to a private security firm in Escondido. It’s a tiny office, and the place is empty. No people, no furniture, nothing. Just a working telephone line with voice mail.”

  “Is there a name on the business license?”

  “It appears to be bogus.”

  “Of course.”

  “But we’re tracking the rent and utility payments. It’s hard to move money around these days without leaving a trail.”

  “So what’s next?”

  His brows rose. “You’re actually letting me have a say in it? I wasn’t sure that would be happening.”

  “I don’t want you sure of me. I have to work with you, but it doesn’t mean that I’ll work for you. I’m done with that. I’ll listen, but I’m going my own way.”

  “Could you be persuaded to have your way meander toward the FBI office? Actually, Sienna Deever is waiting to talk to us there.”

  “About what?”

  “She had an enlightening evening at the medical examiner’s office. She may have discovered a new pattern between our victims.”

  * * *

  “INTERESTING,” KENDRA SAID as she studied the morgue photos that Sienna had plastered over every available inch of wall space in the FBI conference room where Kendra, Lynch, Griffin, and Santini had been seated. Sienna had just finished pointing out the signs of premature aging on the latest victim’s vital organs. “Do we know the cause?”

  “Unfortunately, no. But it might be a by-product of the mutagen we found in the victims’ systems.”

  Griffin shook his head. “I don’t buy that. Why wasn’t this aging present in any of the other victims?”

  “Actually, it was.” Sienna turned back toward the autopsy photos. “After Dr. Ross discovered this in Paul Renshaw’s organs, we took another look at the organ tissue from the other victims. All the signs of accelerated aging—the pigmentation, stiffening of connective tissue, cellular malfunction—were present, but at such low levels that he didn’t take special note of them. The interesting thing is, with each victim, the signs of internal aging become more and more pronounced.”

  Lynch glanced at the photographs. “There’s an actual progression?”

  “Yes. Without exception, each victim’s internal organs showed more pronounced aging effects than the victim before. I can only attribute it to the time factor between victims.” Sienna moved to the conference table and flipped up the lid of
her laptop. “This is still pretty rough, but I’ve assigned values to the various internal aging effects and averaged them for each victim. I’ve plotted them on this chart.” She displayed a line graph and angled her laptop screen toward the others.

  Kendra leaned over and traced her finger along the line, which rose only slightly along the plotted points of the first victims before sharply swooping upward for Paul Renshaw. “Is this a logarithmic progression?”

  “It looks like it, doesn’t it? But it’s difficult to assign a precise geometric formula to anything in the health sciences. Each individual responds so differently to any given stimulus, and, of course, our sample size is very small. But whatever is happening to these people now appears to be occurring at a vastly accelerated rate. All of these victims were on the downhill slide and running out of time.”

  “It doesn’t make sense,” Santini said. “Why would someone murder these people if they’re headed for the morgue anyway?”

  “Maybe they don’t know,” Lynch said. “We have no idea what their motive might be.” He turned to Sienna. “Have you briefed San Diego P.D. on this?”

  “No, but I’m sure they’ve been in contact with the medical examiner’s office about Paul Renshaw’s autopsy results.”

  “I’m sure,” Griffin said. “From now on, let them get their info from the M.E.”

  “That’s the cooperative spirit,” Lynch said.

  Griffin leaned against the table. “Excuse me if I sound a little bitter. Dammit, someone has been talking to the media. My money’s on the local police.”

  “Talking about what?” Lynch said.

  “We received a call from the San Diego Union newspaper this morning. The reporter knows that the murder victims are linked by this substance in their systems, and he was looking for a comment.”

  “Shit,” Santini said.

  “The story will probably break online tonight or early tomorrow. Our lives are about to get one hell of a lot more difficult. Needless to say, don’t confirm or deny anything.”

  Kendra could sense a sudden rise in tension in the room. She was feeling the same instinctive rejection. She had once experienced firsthand how an overtalkative insider could almost derail an investigation.

  “But on the positive side…” Griffin reached into a file folder and produced a color printout of two men in the lobby of a fast-food restaurant. “This was in the McDonald’s restaurant on Highway 38. You were spot-on about the splatter on the dead motorcyclist’s jacket, Kendra. McDonald’s vanilla shake.” He grimaced. “Though it was against my better judgment to follow such a ridiculously flimsy lead.”

  “But it didn’t turn out to be so flimsy, did it?” Kendra asked tartly.

  Griffin ignored the question. “He and his partner were there about ninety minutes before you ran into them. We still don’t know who they were, but at least now we have a visual on the guy who is still out there.”

  “His name was Tommy … something.” Kendra took the printout. “This is from a security camera?”

  Griffin nodded.

  “I guess it’s too much to hope that they paid with credit cards.”

  “Cash. And you were also right about the victim being a minocycline user. The autopsy confirmed it. We’ve been working that angle, too.”

  “There was something else you should know,” Sienna said slowly. “I can’t be sure, but the autopsy indicated a minute amount of the same substance and deterioration in his body that was present in the other victims.”

  “What?” Griffin frowned. “That wasn’t in your report.”

  “Because I can’t be sure yet, sir. We’re still testing. It was very little and was just taking hold when he was killed.” She moistened her lips. “But he might have been the next victim on our charts in a few weeks.”

  “And not an innocent victim,” Kendra murmured. “One of the bad guys…”

  “And where did it come from?” Lynch asked.

  “I’m not absolutely certain,” Sienna repeated. “I’ll let you know if we’re right in the next few days.”

  Lynch took the photograph printout from Kendra and folded it. “Did your sweep of the mountain turn up anything, Griffin?”

  “Like what in the hell those guys were doing out there?”

  “And why Jeff was so interested in it on that last day,” Kendra said.

  Griffin shook his head. “No. Nothing.”

  “Okay,” Kendra said. “Let us know if you find out anything.” She glanced at Lynch. “If we’re all done here…”

  “Wait,” Santini protested. “You’re leaving? I thought this meeting was to share information. What’s your contribution?”

  “In addition to everything else we’ve discussed, I’ve also given you a physical description of the man who tried to kill me and my student, a license-plate number, and bullets in the wall of my office. I’ll be in touch.” She turned and smiled at Sienna. “Terrific work.”

  She strode out of the conference room.

  * * *

  LYNCH SMILED AS HE AND Kendra entered the elevator, and the doors closed. “That’s a major finding Sienna Deever shared. But they were probably expecting a little more from us.”

  “Too bad. I don’t have to meet their expectations of being a team player. They’ve never wanted me on their team. They did their best to shut me out. I’ve given them enough to chew on for the time being. As I said, I’m not working for them. Or you.”

  “Fine. Trust me, I have no problem keeping them at arm’s length. Today, I thought you and I might follow up on—”

  “I’ve already made plans.”

  He looked surprised. “I see. Anything I should know about?”

  “I told you I’m doing this my way now. You’re welcome to come with me, but you’ll have to follow my instructions to the letter.”

  “‘Instructions’?” He said the word as if it was bitter on his tongue.

  She hadn’t expected anything else. Lynch was used to giving orders, not taking them. Well, that was his decision. “The night we met, I noticed that pink pollen under Jeff’s wiper blades.”

  “Right. The lab still hasn’t gotten back to me on that.”

  “They don’t need to. I told you, it’s Pineland Hibiscus.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “I know a couple who know more about growing things than anybody I’ve ever met. I hung with them for a while during my wild days. They know more than your crime lab and more than any botanist, and they might be able to give us some idea where it came from.”

  “They grow what kind of things?”

  Kendra shrugged. “A lot of things that aren’t exactly legal. You’ll have to be careful. If they think you’re a fed looking to bring down their operation, you might get your head blown off.”

  “Suddenly I’m not so enthused about following your lead.”

  “Do what I say, and you’ll be fine.” She extended her palm. “Give me your keys. I’m driving.”

  “Kendra, may I point out that it’s my Ferrari?”

  “Don’t worry,” she said, deadpan. “If you get your head blown off, I’ll take good care of it.”

  CHAPTER

  8

  KENDRA DOWNSHIFTED AND TURNED onto a dirt road outside Valley Center, an agricultural community located an hour northeast of San Diego. The road was lined by avocado trees blooming with yellow-green flowers.

  Lynch flinched at the gravel kicking up from the tires. “Hey, after you’re finished driving down this road, let’s work my paint job over with some sandpaper. There may still be a few spots you haven’t scratched all to hell.”

  “Stop being such a wuss.” She slanted him a sly look. “Tell me, are you one of those guys who parks his precious wheels in Siberia so that no one will park nearby and possibly put a dimple in its door?”

  “I don’t do that. How much farther do we have to go?”

  “Not far. Okay, so are you one of those guys who take up two parking spaces?”

  H
e sighed. “Look, people in parking lots are careless.”

  “You are!” She chuckled. “I knew it. You are one of those jerks.”

  “I only do that once in a while.”

  She stepped harder on the accelerator, kicking up even more gravel.

  “Okay, okay! Almost every time. Happy?”

  She eased off the gas pedal.

  He scowled. “Mature, very mature.”

  She smiled. “Better than being a pretentious prick. Which seems to be the prerequisite for owning a vehicle like this.”

  “Admit it, you love this car.”

  “It has its charms.”

  Lynch glanced ahead. “In any case, I hope these friends of yours can help us … and that our meeting isn’t interrupted by swarms of DEA agents.”

  “If that happens, my friends will think you tipped them off.”

  “Ahh, and we’re back to my head getting blown off?”

  “Not likely. Charlie and Emma are good people.” She thought about it. “Of course, I haven’t been with them for a long time. Sometimes people change. You’ll just have to take your chances.”

  “Comforting.”

  “Comfort is highly overrated.” They drove for another ten minutes through ever-thickening vegetation and trees until Kendra feared that the dirt and gravel road would disappear entirely. Finally, nestled under a clump of trees against a hillside, she spotted a white RV with lime green trim. “There it is.”

  Lynch looked at it in surprise. “They drive that? A 1985 Winnebago?”

  “They realize they might have to abandon it at any time. They know what they’re doing.” Kendra stopped thirty yards short of the RV. “We shouldn’t drive any closer.”

  “So what’s our play?”

  She unbuckled her seat belt and opened her door. “We get out and stand next to the car until somebody realizes we’re not a threat.”

  They climbed out of the car and stood on either side of the vehicle.

  “Exactly how are we supposed to gain their trust?” Lynch asked. “This could prove boring.”

  “I’m hoping I’ll be recognized. At this very moment, I’m guessing that someone is up on that hill looking at us through a pair of binoculars.”

  “Or through a rifle scope?”