With Open Eyes (2 page)

Janet breathed a sigh of relief. “You’re going to do it? So where do we start?”

Kendra thought for a moment. “Go back to your place and gather every piece of information you have on Dale. Every photo, every vacation video, and everything that belonged to him. I’d also like the name of every friend he has. Is he on any of the social networking sites?”

“No. He says he doesn’t believe in that stuff. And he says he doesn’t keep in touch with anyone from his past. He says he’d rather look forward than back.”

“Where did he work?”

“He ran a business out of his house. Computer support for local businesses.”

“Interesting. And he doesn’t believe in using computers to promote his business?”

“He said that his business only makes him aware how insecure our personal information is on the Internet.”

“Well, I’m not going to argue with that.”

“I’ll pull his stuff together. Do you want to meet tomorrow?”

“No. Tonight. The sooner I get started, the better chance I’ll have of helping you.” Kendra walked toward her car. “I’ll be at your place in an hour.”

An hour later Kendra stood in the kitchen of Janet’s modest Escondido home staring at a mound of photographs and personal mementos on the glass dinette table.

“Are you sure you only dated him for a year?” Kendra said. “There’s enough stuff here for twenty years of marriage.”

“You said you wanted everything. And I’m too sentimental to throw anything away. I still have the ticket stubs for every movie and concert we saw together.”

“I can see that.” Kendra picked up a stub. “Who’s the polka enthusiast?”

“Neither of us, but we both like beer.”

“Ah.”

Kendra held up a photograph and studied it. “Is this him?”

Janet looked. “Yes. It’s not a great shot, though. Here, let me find a better one.” Janet pulled several more photos from the pile, but in each one her fiancé’s face was turned away or partially obscured.

“He wasn’t crazy about having his picture taken, was he?” Kendra said.

Janet continued looking through the pile. “Not really. Almost every time I was about to snap a shot of him someplace, he asked to take my picture instead.” She finally pulled another photo out. “Here’s a good one. I guess I surprised him.”

Kendra took the photo from her and looked at the handsome fiftyish man seated at the back of a catamaran. Dark hair, tanned skin, and a warm, inviting smile. “Good-looking guy. Where was this?”

“Catalina. It was just a couple of months ago.”

“Do you have any video?”

“He gave me an iPhone for my birthday, and we shot some video on it at his house. It’s not of him, though. He was doing the shooting.”

“I’d like to see it. Is it still on your phone?”

“No, it’s on my computer now.” Janet flipped up the lid on her laptop, clicked open the file, and played a ninety-second video in which Janet spoke to her unseen fiancé as he demonstrated her new phone’s capabilities.

After the video ended, Kendra thought for a moment. “This was in his house?”

“Yes, his living room.”

“Where was he from?”

“He was born in Dallas. He lived there all his life until he moved here to San Diego just a couple years ago.”

“Hmm. Interesting.”

“Why?”

“Show it again.”

Kendra watched the video three more times, trying to focus on the myriad details in Dale Baylor’s home. Was there anything there that could give her some insight?

She scanned the living room. A typical bachelor’s home, heavy on consumer electronics and light on decorative touches. Dale Baylor was left-handed, probably a nonsmoker, had expensive taste in wines, and was a fan of seventies rock and spy novels.

Kendra turned back to the pile on the table and picked up a small, framed art print of a woman seated on a Victorian armchair. “What’s this?”

“A gift from Dale. He said she reminded him of me.”

“I can see why.” Kendra angled it into the light. “Have you shown this to anyone else?”

“I don’t think so. I keep it in my bedroom. Why do you ask?”

“I’m going to take this with me, okay?”

“Sure, but why?”

“I’ll tell you later. Just wait for my call, Janet.” Kendra pulled on her jacket as she walked to the door and opened it. “It shouldn’t be more than a couple hours.”

Kendra knocked on Janet’s door two and a half hours later.

When Janet answered, Kendra did not step inside. “I need you to come with me. Grab your sweater, it’s very cool out.”

“Why?”

“There’s no time to explain.”

Janet stared at her. “You’re scaring me.”

“Don’t be scared. Just come with me. I’ll drive.”

Kendra led Janet to her car. They climbed in, backed out of the narrow driveway, and started down the dark street.

Janet turned toward her. “Are you going to tell me what we’re doing?”

“I took that picture to the FBI.”

“What?”

“They owe me a few favors, and I know they want to keep me happy. I saw your fiancé’s thumbprint on the upper left corner of the glass.”

“Seriously? How did you even know it was his?”

“He has a large callus at his thumb’s knuckle line. Maybe from holding ropes while boating. I saw it in several of the pictures you showed me. Even when I couldn’t see his face, I could still see that.”

Janet shook her head. “I—I’m speechless. No. I’m not. The FBI. That’s big stuff. I’m not sure I like the idea you’d do this without even asking me.”

“You wanted my help, Janet. And I found out something very—” Kendra’s eyes flicked to her rearview mirror. “Oh, shit.”

“What is it?”

“Get down in your seat. We’re being followed.”

Janet instinctively whirled around to look.

Kendra pushed her down by her shoulder.
“Get down.”

She pushed the speakerphone button on her steering wheel, and a man immediately answered. “Sutker.”

Kendra was aware of Janet stiffening at the name. “Sutker? What the—”

Kendra raised her hand to silence her. “Not now.” She spoke into the speakerphone. “It’s what I thought. He’s on our tail. I’m on Fifth about to turn north onto Quince Street.”

“Okay,” Sutker said. “We’re ready for you, Kendra.”

Kendra cut the connection.

“
Who’s
on our tail?” Janet said.

“Someone has been watching your house. I couldn’t see him, but that Ford Explorer was the only car on the street with the windows fogged over. They were still fogged when I came back two hours later, so I knew someone was staking you out. Either that, or your street has become a prime make-out spot.”

Kendra turned right onto Quince Street without signaling. Behind them, the Explorer’s tires squealed as it took the unexpected turn.

“He’s getting closer,” Kendra said. “Just stay down.”

She gunned the engine just as the street behind them lit up with police flashers. Sirens wailed and more tires squealed as four unmarked cars surrounded the Explorer. Kendra drove another half a block before slowing to a stop.

“What in the hell is going on?” Janet asked.

“Shh.” Kendra cocked her head to hear the amplified voice blaring from one of the police cruisers.

“What are they saying?” Janet asked.

“I couldn’t make it out. If I had to guess, probably some variation of ‘step outside the vehicle with your hands up.’”

Janet threw open her car door. “What if it’s Dale?”

Kendra tried to grab her arm, but Janet had already jumped out of the car. “Janet, no!”

Kendra climbed out after her just in time to see a man in a dark shirt and trousers sliding out of the Explorer’s passenger-side door. Angling the door as he would a shield, he raised a handgun toward the police cars.

The street exploded with half a dozen guns firing at once. The muzzles flashed white in the darkness.

The man flew backwards and landed sprawled on the sidewalk.

Janet screamed and lunged forward.

Kendra held her back. “No, it’s not him, I promise.”

The police emerged from their cars and cautiously stepped toward the lifeless figure on the pavement. One man turned to another and shook his head. “Deader than hell.”

A thirtyish detective in a tan jacket left the other police and ran toward Kendra and Janet. “Are you all right?”

Janet gazed at him in surprise. “Detective Sutker?”

“Yes. You’re not hurt?”

“No, who was that man?”

“We’ll find out soon enough when we run the ID.” Sutker turned to Kendra. “Sorry for all this, Dr. Michaels. When you called, we had to make sure he was really tailing her.”

“I guess I would have had an easier time convincing you if he had pulled his gun on Janet,” she said sarcastically.

“You know that wasn’t going to happen. He was just waiting to see if she made contact.”

Janet looked from Kendra to Sutker. “Contact with whom?”

Sutker glanced away, obviously not wanting to answer the question.

Kendra took her arm. “With Dale. He thought you might know where Dale was.”

“Why would he think that?”

“Because Dale was in the Federal Witness Protection Program.”

“What?” Janet glanced at Sutker for confirmation, but his face was without expression. She turned back to Kendra. “Are you sure?”

Kendra nodded. “I had a pretty good idea back at your apartment. You know I’m good with dialects, and I was positive Dale was lying about being born and bred in Dallas. I’m guessing he was raised somewhere along the Georgia or South Carolina coast, with his accent flattened by a Midwestern influence from one or both of his parents.”

Sutker’s eyes widened. “How the hell did you—”

“That doesn’t matter now.” Janet appeared stunned. “You’re saying he didn’t tell me the truth?”

Kendra nodded. “He obviously lied to you about where he was from, he claims to have no family, and he has no contact with friends or anyone from his past. He is also unusually averse to having his face photographed. That suggests a man hiding from something, perhaps even the law, but the fact that the police would engage in some kind of cover-up and encourage you to stop asking questions led me to think in a different direction, maybe in terms of witness protection. So I had my friends at the FBI run the thumbprint.”

“Why?” Janet asked.

“I knew that if he was in Witness Protection the match request would be immediately flagged and an alert would go to the agency responsible for him. I hung around long enough for the FBI field office to get an urgent call from the U.S. Marshals Service, wondering what in the hell they were doing tracking their protected witness.”

“I’m sure your FBI buddies loved that,” Sutker said. “Having to explain why they were running a fingerprint for a nonagent?”

Kendra shrugged. “I have a history of annoying them.”

Janet leaned back against Kendra’s car. “I just can’t believe it. So Dale…He’s okay?”

Sutker nodded. “He’s fine. If it means anything, I’m sorry about the way I spoke to you earlier today. When you called us, we treated it like any other crime scene. But then we got a call from the Marshals Service, and they explained everything. Someone broke into your fiancé’s house and tried to kill him. Turns out he’s pretty handy with a kitchen knife and he killed his attacker. He called his handler and they pulled him out of there and removed the body. But you showed up before their team could clean the rest of the scene. Believe me, the only reason we behaved the way we did is for his protection.”

“His protection? What did he do?”

Kendra looked at Sutker. “We had an agreement, detective.”

“Your agreement was with the Marshals Service, not me.” He hesitated and then shrugged. “But I told them I would give you a ride. Least I could do.” He motioned toward his car. “Please come with me. It’s only a short trip.”

Short, indeed. Just three blocks away Sutker parked on a dark residential street.

“Why are we here?” Janet said.

As if in answer to her question, the rear door opened on a car parked across the street. A man climbed out and closed the door behind him.

Janet stiffened and then gasped as she recognized him. “Dale.”

She jumped out of the car and ran across the street toward him. He moved toward her, but they stopped short of each other in the middle of the deserted street.