Close Your Eyes

by Iris Johansen

  “Just as likely.”

  After thirty seconds, the side door of the Winnebago opened. A chubby gray-haired woman in a green tracksuit peered outside. “Can I help you?”

  Kendra took a single step away from the car. “Hi, Emma, do you remember me?”

  The woman squinted at her, then nodded. “Sure I do, child. Kendra, ain’t it?”

  “Yes. I need your and Charlie’s help.”

  Emma cast a suspicious glance at Lynch. “We read about you a while back, Kendra. You’re helping the police nowadays.”

  “Once in a while, yes. But I’m not trying to get you in any kind of trouble. You know me better than that. This has nothing to do with your operation.”

  “If you want us to rat somebody out, you can just leave right now. We don’t do that. It’s bad for business and bad for our health.”

  “I promise you, this has nothing to do with you or your customers. I just need your expertise. All I need is ten minutes. Please, Emma.”

  Emma turned back into the RV for a moment as if listening to someone inside. She turned back and motioned for Kendra and Lynch to come in.

  Lynch spoke under his breath. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

  As Kendra slammed the car door shut, she smiled at Emma. “It will be okay,” she said quietly. “Like I said, good people.”

  But definitely suspicious, she thought, as they reached the RV and mounted the tall first step of the trailer. Emma’s stare was cold and unwelcoming.

  Before Kendra’s eyes could adjust to the dark interior, she picked up the strong licorice odor that had surrounded Charlie Shelton as long as she had known him. It was from a sinus-blasting hard candy, she remembered, which she could now hear rattling around against Charlie’s dentures.

  “Who’s your friend, Kendra?”

  She turned toward the rear of the RV, where Charlie sat in the shadows in a large leather recliner. He was far heavier than he had been when she last saw him, and he wore an oxygen hose beneath his nostrils.

  “His name is Adam Lynch.” She looked at the faded curtains covering the RV’s side windows. “Do you mind if we let a little light in here? I can hardly see you, Charlie.”

  “Believe me, that isn’t such a bad thing these days.” He pointed toward the curtains on the vehicle’s left side. “Go ahead and pull those open, honey.”

  Kendra pulled the curtains and flooded the compartment with sunlight. The kitchenette, chipped vinyl flooring, and faded seat cushions had clearly seen better days. Charlie appeared physically weak, but his blue eyes were still lit with the intense joy for life she remembered.

  He motioned toward Emma, who had joined them in the RV and pulled the door closed after her. “You’ll have to excuse my better half here. She’s gotten very protective of me since I got sick.”

  “I hadn’t heard, Charlie. What is it?”

  He smiled. “You tell me. You know how much I love it when you do that.”

  She nodded. “Emphysema. Chronic bronchitis.”

  He cocked an eye at her. “Which one?”

  “Both.” She placed her hand on his. “And I know it hasn’t been easy for you, Charlie. You have awful flare-ups, don’t you? You shouldn’t be out here. You should live closer to a hospital.”

  “That’s what I keep telling him,” Emma said.

  “Okay, spill it,” Charlie said. “Let me in on your trick.”

  Kendra smiled. “No trick. You have a veritable medicine chest on your end table, Charlie. I see Atrovent and corticosteroid inhalers, along with a battery of antibiotics to fight off infection. We can all hear the rattle in your chest, and your waste can is overflowing with mucus-encrusted tissues.”

  He chuckled. “That’s the Kendra I know.”

  “But you should really stop smoking.”

  He looked startled. “Smoking?” His voice was suddenly wary. “I don’t smoke anymore.”

  “Those awful licorice candies don’t quite disguise the smell on your breath, Charlie.” She pointed to a khaki jacket hanging over a chair back. “And that looks like a pack of cigarettes in the right pocket of your Windbreaker.”

  Emma moved toward the jacket, stepping with such force that dishes rattled in the RV’s cupboards. She jammed her hand into the pocket and pulled out a pack of Marlboros. She turned back toward Charlie. “You son of a bitch!”

  He raised his hands in defense. “Now, Emma…”

  “You promised me!”

  “Can we discuss this later?”

  “You bet your ass we’ll discuss it.”

  His eyes flicked back to Kendra. “Damn, I should have known better. You know, that could have been a pack of cards you were seeing in my pocket.”

  “I wish it had been. Anyway, not quite the same shape.”

  Emma, perhaps finding an ally in Kendra, suddenly softened in her attitude toward her and Lynch. “Can I get you folks some tea, or maybe some soda?”

  “No thanks, Emma.”

  “I’d like some tea,” Charlie said.

  “Tough shit.” Emma sat on the tattered bench seat and motioned for Kendra and Lynch to sit across from her.

  Charlie shrugged. “Well, I guess that settles that.”

  Kendra gestured toward Lynch. “As I said, this is Adam Lynch, and I’m helping him look for a friend of mine.”

  “I see.” Charlie looked at Lynch over the top of his spectacles. “And would you happen to be a cop?”

  Lynch shook his head. “No. Former FBI, but now I pretty much work for myself.”

  Charlie and Emma exchanged glances.

  Lynch laughed. “Look, I’m really not interested in your pot farm or that garden of exotic mushrooms against the hillside.”

  “Then what are you interested in?” Charlie asked.

  “You two know more about plants than just about anyone on earth,” Kendra said. “You can reel off every tree in every forest in this part of the state. And every flower in every garden.”

  Charlie snorted. “Close. But that’s an exaggeration, little lady.”

  “Only slightly. Will you help me?”

  “Tell me what you’re looking for.”

  “Pineland Hibiscus. Probably someplace where there was a lot of it.”

  “Hmm.” Charlie tilted his head back. “That’s not real common around here. You see that more in states near the Gulf … Florida, Texas, places like that. It requires quite a bit of water.”

  “I know it from Florida,” Kendra said. “I have an aunt who lives outside of Tampa. But I know it was pollinating somewhere around here last week. Can you zero in on it for us?”

  “Well, I’d say it wasn’t growing in the wild. You’re looking for watered gardens or a large, maintained area. There was a major housing development in Ensenada that used them in most of their yards and medians, but they’ve all been pretty much replaced by now. It was probably too much of a challenge to keep them going.”

  “They should have hired you,” Kendra said.

  “They couldn’t afford me. And neither could the only other place I can think of. Have you been up to Rancho Bernardo?”

  Lynch nodded. “North of the city. There’s some good golfing up there.”

  “And a lot of commercial development. It’s about twenty miles northeast. I’ve seen that flower in a lot of the common areas, on hillsides, some of the parks, everywhere. Not very practical for our climate, but maybe a developer’s wife likes ’em.”

  “Rancho Bernardo,” Kendra repeated. “Can you think of anyplace else?”

  “Nope, not in these parts. There may be an occasional backyard garden or hothouse with a few, but I don’t know of any others. Of course, I haven’t been so mobile lately.” He waved his oxygen tube. “If someone has done some major planting in the last year or two, I might not know about it.”

  “You’ve been tremendously helpful,” Lynch said. “You know, the Bureau could use a guy like you, at least on a consulting basis.”

  Charlie grinned. �
�They can’t afford me, either. But if I ever get jammed up by LE, I hope you guys will step up for me.”

  “Come on, Charlie, I know you’ve made enough to retire,” Kendra said.

  “We could’ve retired years ago,” Emma said. “We have a beautiful house tucked away on a beach in—”

  “In an undisclosed location,” Charlie interrupted.

  “Right,” Emma said. “But this fool still insists on spending eight months a year in this rat trap.”

  Charlie raised his hand to silence Emma. “I like to keep on the move. Am I supposed to curl up and become an old man? Not me. I’ve expanded the business since I last saw you, Kendra. It’s kept me busier than ever.”

  She said warily, “I hate to even ask.”

  “Orchids.” He smiled. “Lots and lots of orchids.”

  Kendra’s face brightened. “Well, at least it’s legal.”

  “Actually, it’s not. The orchids I grow are on the endangered species list. It’s quite illegal for me to sell or transport them. It’s hard work, but very profitable.”

  Emma frowned. “It better be profitable, with all the damn time you spend on those things.”

  “What can I say? It’s an art. You can’t rush genius.”

  Emma rolled her eyes. “So now he’s a genius.”

  “Ghost orchids,” Charlie said. “They’re endangered, but they wouldn’t even exist if I didn’t bring them into being. I’m doing the species a huge favor. But those U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service agents are even more balls to the wall than the DEA. They’d lock me up and throw away the key.”

  “And you’d probably find something illegal to grow in the prison garden.” Kendra stood and hugged Charlie. “You listen to your wife, Charlie. Retire and get yourself to that beach house.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe. But you know how many people die when they retire and start to live the good life. Lack of purpose kills you.” He reached up and chucked her under the chin. “You found that out, didn’t you, Kendra? You were going to taste every wine and make life this big celebration. You made a good try at it, too. We had a helluva good time when you passed our way. But that mind of yours never stopped working, and the celebration went a little stale. Right?”

  “Not because of you or Emma, Charlie,” she said gently. “You made my life richer. I have such good memories of those months we spent together.” She smiled as she brushed her lips across his forehead. “Though you never gave me one of those forbidden orchids. What kind of friend are you?”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “I didn’t know they existed back then. And they’re more trouble than they’re worth to most people except the addicts.”

  “Think about that beach. Maybe you could collect exotic shells or coral.”

  His brow furrowed. “Coral … Seems I heard about some kind of coral that was on the endangered list…”

  Emma frowned. “Charlie, you can hardly breathe, and you’re thinking about going diving?”

  “Just thinking, Emma…”

  “And I think we’d better get out of here.” Kendra gave Emma a hug and headed for the door. “Sorry I opened a can of worms. Bye, Charlie. Come on, Lynch.”

  “No can of worms, Kendra.” Emma had followed them as they left the RV. She added quietly, “If you manage to get him to that beach, I can do the rest. I’m sorry I wasn’t more welcoming. Charlie’s right, I have to take care of him now. He’s all I got.” The door was closing behind her. “Thanks for coming by, honey. I’ll send you our address when I get Charlie to that beach.”

  “Do that.” She headed for the car. “I’ll look forward to it.”

  * * *

  “INTERESTING COMPANY YOU KEEP,” Lynch said as he sped away from Charlie and Emma’s farm after Kendra had reluctantly surrendered the keys. “But I could see why you would want to talk to Charlie about this. That was impressive.”

  “There’s no one better at this kind of thing than he is. Much better than waiting for the FBI lab.”

  “Oh, I agree.”

  Kendra pulled out her phone and quickly typed a search term on the tiny keypad. “Jeff wasn’t a golfer. I know he wasn’t in Rancho Bernardo for that.”

  “Have you ever been up there?”

  “Not since I’ve been able to see.” She scanned the page of results. “Hmm. Charlie was right. A lot of commercial properties. Sony’s U.S. headquarters are there. Eastman Kodak and Hewlett Packard also have corporate offices in the area.”

  “It’s a nice place, but as far as I know, none of the principals in this case have any connection with it.”

  “Are we headed there now?”

  Lynch grinned. “You know it, lady.”

  An hour later, they rolled into Rancho Bernardo, nestled in the rolling hills of the North County. Kendra could see signs of a wildfire that had blasted down the slopes a couple of years before, but the streets and buildings were clean and well maintained. As Charlie had said, the hillsides and medians were filled with the red and white Pineland Hibiscus flowers in full bloom.

  “About as different from Devil’s Slide as you can get,” Kendra said. “But it looks as if he might have driven both here and there sometime in that last day or two. Yet they don’t appear in any of his notes, case files, or audio transcriptions. I don’t get it.”

  “His phone also didn’t ping any of the cell towers here. Or out in Ocotillo Wells. I got the records last night.”

  “You mean for his company phone.”

  “Yes. The only one the FBI knew about.”

  “But we knew he was using another one, at least part of the time.” She considered this as they passed a neighborhood of large homes. “He didn’t want to be tracked. Not by the FBI or anyone.”

  Lynch nodded. “That’s the way it’s looking. He didn’t even carry his work phone with him.”

  “But why wouldn’t he even want his own bosses tracking him?”

  “You tell me. Do you think Jeff was dirty?”

  “No way in hell.”

  “It’s either that, or maybe he thought he was working for someone who was. Take your pick.”

  She couldn’t believe that Jeff was crooked, so the choice was easy. Someone from the Bureau? But there might be still another reason. If he was undercover, he might have thought he’d be safer with no connection to the Bureau. “Or he could have been afraid to tip his hand, which means that whoever he suspected had megapower, and he couldn’t take any risks.” Her lips tightened. “But it’s doing us no good to make guesses. We’ve got to find out, dammit.”

  * * *

  OSCAR LAIRD TRIED TO KEEP his eyes on Lynch’s car as he punched in Schuyler’s number.

  “What’s the story?” Schuyler already sounded pissed.

  This wasn’t going to be a good conversation, Laird thought.

  “They’re here.”

  “Where here?”

  “Rancho Bernardo.”

  Schuyler cursed under his breath. “How?”

  “I have no idea. I’m following Lynch and Kendra Michaels right now. They’re heading north on Pomerado Road.”

  “How in the hell did they find their way there? Do we have a leak?”

  “I don’t think so. And they’re pretty much just driving around. I don’t think they know what they’re looking for.”

  “You don’t think. That’s comforting. They’re less than two miles away from destroying everything we’ve been working toward, and I’m supposed to rely on your vague hunch?”

  “That’s what you pay me for.”

  “I’m shutting down.”

  “Don’t do it. If they knew what they were doing, they’d be there already. It wouldn’t be just the two of them, and they wouldn’t be aimlessly driving around like a couple of house hunters looking to get a feel for the area.”

  A long moment of silence. Schuyler obviously knew that Laird was right, but he hated like hell to admit it.

  “Okay, Laird. We’re so close to the end that I’m going to take a chance and
hold out for that last shipment to be processed. Don’t let them out of your sight. If this goes wrong, I’m holding you responsible.”

  Hollow threat.

  If this went wrong, Laird wanted to tell him, they would probably both be dead.

  * * *

  THOSE BASTARDS THOUGHT he was washed up, Steve Rusin thought. As if there were a mandatory retirement age for killers for hire. He checked his watch and leaned back in his car seat.

  He was sixty-eight, and hell, it was easier now than it ever was. The years had given him the wrinkles, gray hair, and bushy eyebrows that made him appear less threatening than he had in his younger days. He now had a face that people trusted. He could get closer to his marks, get them to lower their guard, then pounce with the same deadly precision he’d always had. Sure, things had gone a bit awry with his last target, but he’d gotten the job done.

  But he had seen the doubt in Laird’s eyes. He, like Schuyler, was afraid he had lost the touch.

  Idiots.

  Rusin gaze narrowed on the lithe, energetic figure walking toward him on the deserted street. That would be Lesley Dunn, on her way home from the advanced Photoshop class she was taking from a local art school. She made her living as a public-relations representative at an indie record label, but she harbored dreams of becoming a graphic designer. Too bad that would never happen for her, Rusin thought.

  He climbed out of the car and quickly glanced at the industrial buildings around him. It was after hours, and no one else was around. He had chosen his spot well. He unsheathed his ivory-handled blade and held the knife at his side.

  He unfolded a piece of paper and did his best to look befuddled.

  Lesley slowed as she approached him. There was no wariness, no fear. If anything, just a hint of concern. Perfect.

  “Young lady, I’m sorry to bother you. I’m not sure if I’m in the right place…”

  She stopped and smiled but kept about five feet between them. Smart girl. “Where do you want to be?”

  He glanced pathetically at the building in front of them. “Garnet Street?”

  She nodded. “That’s where you are.”

  “I’m supposed to get my hearing aid repaired somewhere around here.” He knew he was laying it on thick, but she was totally buying it.