by Roy Johansen
“But they ended up dead, and she ended up kidnapped. If they didn’t change it, it must have been a lousy plan.”
His hands grabbed her shoulders. “Yeah, they ended up dead, and I had to spend an hour tonight trying to explain to their families why that happened. And when I get through here, I have to go and face them in person.” His lips were tight, his eyes liquid bright. “And I’m going to have to tell them the same thing I’m telling you. That they did their job, and nothing should have happened. But sometimes the bad guys are smarter or quicker than we are, and then we fail. All we can do is our best.” He looked her in the eye. “And no one knows that better than you. You’re just hurting because you care about the kid.”
“Get your hands off me or I’ll break your damn neck,” she said hoarsely. “If you’d cared more about her, then she wouldn’t have been taken. I trusted you.”
“I’m done here.” Parks released his grip on her shoulders and took a step back. “When I get through with dealing with my guys’ families, I’ll be back and try to find out exactly what happened. Maybe it will give us a lead. At any rate, I’m not going to stop until we find her. Because I do care about her. Ever since I took over from you, she’s been a pain in my ass. Do you think it was easy following in your footsteps? She thought you walked on water. But I’ve always liked her, and I’ve always done my best to keep her safe. Believe it or not, that’s the truth.”
Jessie opened her lips to speak and then closed them again. She was silent a moment. “I believe you,” she finally said wearily. “But something went wrong, and we’ve got to find out how it could have happened. How did they just whisk her up and take her? I taught her to always be careful. She was smart, Parks. Those scumbags couldn’t have fooled her.”
“Like I said, sometimes the bad guys turn out to be smarter than us.” He strode across the stage toward the exit. “I’ll see you later, Jessie.”
“I could tell you were ready to take a machete to his head when you stomped down here,” Kendra murmured as she watched him leave. “You were easier on him than I thought you’d be.”
“Because he was right,” she said unsteadily. “No matter how hard we try, sometimes the bad guys are going to try harder and they’re going to win. I knew Dee wasn’t going to be easy for anyone to handle. That’s why I was so careful when I chose Parks to take over my job with her. He had all the qualifications and discipline, and I knew he was flexible enough not to make her rebel. I thought he’d be perfect. It’s hard to find that kind of balance.”
“But you told me Dee had been rebelling lately,” Kendra said. “Maybe someone out there was watching and decided it was time to step in and take advantage.”
“Maybe. But as I said, she’s smart. I don’t think she’d do anything careless that would cause anyone to be able to snatch her. It would take something to fool her.”
“Because you taught her,” Kendra said softly. “And that will be to her benefit. She has those years of training with you and she’ll remember them.”
She nodded. “You’re damn right.” She cleared her throat. “Now let’s go talk to Parks’s crew and see if they remember anything. Then we’ll go schmooze with those FBI and LAPD guys and impress them enough to squeeze information out of them if we need to.” She shrugged. “Most of them are careful around private investigators, but I think a couple of those LAPD officers have helped me out before. And you shouldn’t have any trouble.” She looked over her shoulder with a smile. “Everyone wants to cozy up to a superstar like you. Who knows? They might even get their picture in the paper. Do you want me to go up to the parking lot and bring down a couple of those reporters?”
“Don’t you dare.” But she was glad that Jessie wasn’t quite so much on edge. Jessie always bounced back from every blow. She wasn’t bouncing now. She was too worried and sick and angry. But she was thinking, healing, working on the problem. “If you’re talking to LAPD, I’ll take the FBI agents. Agent Kelland wanted me to meet them…”
* * *
Kendra’s Condo
11:40 A.M.
Kendra was back in her condo and starting to pack an overnight bag when Metcalf phoned her. “Did Kelland come through for you?” he asked. “I didn’t expect a problem, but you didn’t call me back.”
“We were swamped from the minute Kelland pulled rank to get us down to the crime scene. You know how it can be on a case like this.” She went to the bathroom and grabbed her toiletries. “Yes, Kelland was fine and did what we needed. Other than that, he seemed too busy to pay any attention to us. Which was great with Jessie and me. All we wanted to do was establish contacts with the LAPD and Kelland’s fellow agents and listen in on any conversations they were getting from operators in the field. Then I grabbed breakfast with Jessie and hit the road back to San Diego to grab an overnight bag and call the school and tell them I’m taking a few days off.”
“A few days? That sounds optimistic. Are you?”
“I don’t know what I am,” she said wearily. “Except I’m scared, Metcalf. I was telling Jessie not to be negative, but we’re going at this blind. We don’t know anything yet. Right now, Kelland just seems to be sitting and waiting for that damn ransom note.”
“That’s not what he’s doing. If he’s as good as I think he is, Kelland has already alerted his agents to stake out the phones of all possible sources who might be contacted by the kidnappers. That includes everyone from Dee’s record company to her mother in Europe. It wouldn’t surprise me if they’ve even staked out Jessie’s phone since she’s so close to her. He’s probably also ordered all of Dee’s bank accounts monitored in case they try to make her move the money herself.” He paused. “That’s what we do the minute we realize a victim has been taken. That’s what I’d do, Kendra.”
“I guess I knew that. As I said, I’m just scared and frustrated.” She tried to keep her voice from shaking. “There are all kinds of bad statistics about kidnap victims. It’s so much safer to kill a victim than return her after they have the ransom. That would probably go double for someone as famous as Dee.”
“But there have been quite a few cases where a victim has been returned after ransom has been paid. John Paul Getty’s grandson, Julio Iglesias’s father, Frank Sinatra’s son.” Metcalf rattled the names off quickly. “And there have been a lot of CEOs and industrialists who have been kidnapped and then released in South America. It’s practically a national pastime down there. Hell, there hasn’t even been a ransom demand yet. Maybe she was taken by one of her fans. Remember that Miss Venezuela who was kidnapped several years ago? Her captors released her a few hours later after she agreed to sign fifteen autographs for them. Maybe it will be—”
“Shut up, Metcalf.” She couldn’t take any more. “I appreciate that you’re only trying to keep my spirits up. But do you think I didn’t mentally go over all those cases that gave me hope as I drove back down here? I was even smiling when I thought about that Venezuela beauty queen and wondering how Dee would have handled those nutcases.” She swallowed hard. “But I’m not laughing now, because whoever did this was very clever and more than likely a professional. Which means I have to assume that this is just as bad as we thought it was when we found she was missing. So now tell me the other side of the coin. What’s the worst-case scenario?”
He didn’t speak for a moment.
“Answer me. You’re FBI and you’ve worked kidnap cases before. Who should I hope doesn’t have Dee?”
“Probably someone who has a political or fanatical reason for the abduction. You can’t reason with groups like Isis.” He added quickly, “But they don’t generally go after celebrities like Dee. They want to make a statement.”
“That’s comforting,” she said dryly. “Next.”
“Revenge.”
“She’s too young to have chalked up much in that column. And she’s probably one of the most popular entertainers in the world.”
“Maybe too popular.”
“Next.”
“Money. And that’s a big umbrella and can hide multiple spokes. Maybe someone so dedicated to a project that they consider she has no right to those enormous paydays?” He added, “Or maybe a plain blue-ribbon psycho. I could go on, but I’m not going to do it. You’re the smartest woman I know. You’ll find out who did this yourself. I just wish I could help you do it.”
“Who says you can’t? Ordinarily, I wouldn’t ask you to break protocol when I know that the director assigned this case to L.A. But this isn’t ordinary times. I can’t promise I won’t ask a favor now and then. I don’t know what I’m facing dealing with Kelland. Feel free to turn me down.”
“You know I’ll help when I can. I’ll just have to keep it quiet around Griffin.” He paused. “You’re feeling uncomfortable with Kelland?”
“He’s an unknown factor. We were definitely the outsiders. It’s a different world up there in L.A., Metcalf. What do you think of Kelland? He said you weren’t really friends, but he jumped when you asked that favor.”
“Because the favor was for you. He pumped me about you at a hotel bar one night. He’d heard I worked with you and he probably liked the idea of getting an introduction. I blew him off.”
“That doesn’t sound very friendly. What’s wrong with him?”
“Nothing, I guess. He seemed like a pretty good guy. Everyone likes him.”
“Except you?”
“I told you, he’s a good guy.” Then, at her puzzled silence, he burst out, “Okay, he’s one of those golden boys you come across now and then. You saw him. He’s good looking and polite and does everything right. He’s a really good agent and was even given the FBI Medal of Valor two years ago when he took a bullet for another agent. Everyone knows that he’s going straight to the top and will probably someday end up as director.”
“So?”
“He has it all. I didn’t like the idea of him trying to weasel his way into meeting you and maybe trying to work with you.”
“What? He didn’t impress me as the weasel type.”
“Perhaps not. I guess I don’t trust anyone who does everything right. Hell, I’m even the one who managed to get the golden boy what he wanted this time.”
“He seemed polite but not that eager to work with me. I only hope that he lets us get our foot in the door when the action starts.”
“I do, too. You know I’ll be there for you,” Metcalf said sincerely. “What’s next?”
“I’ve just finished packing my bag, so I’ll go down and say goodbye to Olivia. Then I’ll head back to L.A. to Jessie’s house. We’ll probably both grab a nap and then set out to retrace Dee’s steps for the last few weeks. This kidnapping was too well planned not to have been heavily researched. Which means that she had to have been followed, and there’s a chance someone will have noticed who was doing it.”
“That may mean a lot of legwork. I could do some of it on my own time.”
“Hey, I may take you up on that.” But not unless she found it absolutely necessary. She was very touched by the offer, but she wanted to use Metcalf only in an emergency. “I’ll let you know.” She headed for the front door. “I have to leave now. I’ll stay in touch.”
“You do that.” He paused. “Does Lynch know about Dee?”
“I told you, I haven’t talked to him since he left. Was I supposed to send up a flare? It’s not as if he could do anything from some mountain in Tibet.”
“I just thought you’d want to let him know,” he said quietly. “He’s always been there for you during the rough times. I think this is one of those times.”
“Well, this time he’s otherwise engaged. We’re both adults with our own careers and I can’t expect anything else. Jessie and I will do fine without him. Bye, Metcalf.” She ended the call.
Everything she had said was true, she thought as she went down the staircase to Olivia’s condo. But it didn’t stop her from feeling a little lost without Lynch. No, a lot lost. The sadness and panic when she thought about Dee were there every moment, and being with Lynch usually seemed to ease any loneliness or pain.
Which meant she was entirely too dependent on him. This might be the learning experience she needed. What she’d told Metcalf was correct.
She and Jessie would get along fine without Lynch.
* * *
Kendra followed Jessie to her home in Venice, a beach community within sight of the Santa Monica Pier. Jessie’s small two-story house was a comfortable distance from the tourist-plagued boardwalk, situated along one of the community’s many charming canals. The waterway was lined with tufts of tall grass and a variety of colorful plants, each chosen according to the whims of the individual homeowners.
Kendra looked up at the house as she climbed out of her car and joined Jessie on the sidewalk outside. “I can’t believe I’ve never been to your place before.”
Jessie shrugged. “You’ve been to my office. That feels more like home to me.”
“I don’t believe that. This is amazing. Right on the canal. How did you find it?”
“It found me. Or its previous owner did, right before he was killed by his girlfriend and her Zumba instructor.”
“Seriously?”
Jessie nodded as she unlocked the front door. “Yep. And after I cracked the case, the man’s son gave me a sweetheart deal on the place. Trust me, I couldn’t have afforded it any other way.”
Jessie pushed open the door and punched the entry code on her alarm keypad. Kendra looked around the foyer and living room. The open layout gave her a view all the way back to the floor-to-ceiling windows that perfectly framed the small yard and canal outside.
“Beautiful.”
“Thanks. By the way, the previous owner’s body was found just about where you’re standing now.”
Kendra looked down at the Italian tile. “FYI, if you ever decide to sell this place, you should let the listing agent do the talking.”
“Probably a good idea.” She was suddenly grinning. “Nah, I was just kidding you. He was killed outside, near the beach. Though it probably wouldn’t have bothered me. That only happens when it’s someone I care about. I’ve lived side by side with murder and death from Afghanistan to the Hollywood Hills since I was a teenager. I’m not callous about it, but I accept it.”
“Particularly when you decide you want to freak me out?” Kendra asked dryly.
“Yep, particularly then.”
Jessie flipped on the lights, giving Kendra an even better view of the place. While her office had a 1940s retro vibe, the house was funky chic, with tasteful splashes of color accenting adventurous furnishings and artwork.
“Well done,” Kendra said. “Your taste or the dead man’s?”
“Mine. I totally gutted the place and started from scratch. I did it pretty much all myself.”
“Impressive. I can’t even seem to find the time to replace my drawer pulls.”
Jessie pointed to her sleek galley kitchen just off the living room. “You’d probably think I was bragging if I told you I made all the cabinets, too.”
“I hate you.”
“Yeah, I thought so.”
Kendra looked at a wall of photos in the living room, accented by colorful frames that somehow complemented rather than overpowered the pictures. Kendra had seen some of the same shots in Jesse’s office, surveying her past as an Afghanistan army vet, a popular contestant on the American Ninja television show, and her stint as Delilah Winter’s security director. Several shots pictured Jessie with a strikingly handsome man who occasionally wore horn-rimmed spectacles and tailored jackets.
Kendra pointed to the man. “Who’s this guy?”
“Oh. Him.” She shrugged. “No one to speak of.”
“That obviously isn’t true. You have half a dozen pictures of him on your wall, spanning at least…” Kendra looked at the photos a moment longer. “…nine years.”
Jessie pulled her away from the wall. “Don’t pull that Kendra Michaels shit on me. There will be zero pictures of him
as soon as I get some new frames.”
“Sounds like there’s a story there.”
“Trust me, there isn’t,” she said curtly.
Kendra couldn’t help being curious. The way the man in the photo was regarding Jessie was very…intimate. And why not? Some of those photos revealed how beautiful Jessie was when she wasn’t being the fiery dynamo Kendra knew her to be. Those high cheekbones, that wonderful mouth that was so expressive. Usually Jessie was frank and open regarding the multitude of interesting men who moved in and out of her life. But she clearly didn’t want to talk about this one, so Kendra decided to let it go. “Okay. Whatever you say.”
Her gaze wandered to another wall where ceiling spotlights showcased an odd collection of objects: a bicycle horn, a matchbook, an eight-track tape, a set of keys, and a thermal coffee mug, among other things. The items were arranged artfully, but Kendra spent a long moment trying to figure out their meaning.
Jessie smiled at her obvious confusion. “It’s a souvenir collection.”
“Souvenirs of what?”
“Of my cases. Each one of those things played a part in my cracking an investigation. I’ve spent so many nights wanting to beat my head against that wall that this seemed like a healthier way to go. They remind me that the solution is always out there waiting to be found. Even if I don’t recognize it at first.”
Kendra nodded. “When we find Dee, you’ll put something else up there.”
Jessie nodded firmly. “I will.”
“We will find her, Jessie.”
Jessie stepped away from the wall and looked out at the canal. “I’d feel better if we knew why she was taken. A ransom note, a manifesto, anything. You know?”
“I know.”
“Until then, we don’t even know if she’s still alive.”
“She’s alive. If they wanted her dead, they would have killed her at the same time they killed the members of her security team.”
“I keep telling myself that.”