Hindsight (Kendra Michaels #7) - Iris Johansen Page 0,32

we should have expected you to act considering that you have an FBI badge where your heart should be. And you did give me what I wanted, and I want you to continue.” She added curtly, “But I want that report to be the last one you give Lynch about this case. And I want you to call Metcalf and tell him the same thing.”

Silence. “That might be difficult.”

“I don’t give a damn. I don’t know how you’re going to do it, but if you ever want me to work another case for you, I won’t have Lynch involved in this one.” She continued, “I’m not going to make false threats about pulling out of the Woodward case. You’d know that would be bogus, but I keep my promises. I’ve just made you one. Believe it, Griffin.”

“I believe it,” he said slowly. “You’re a valuable asset and I don’t want to lose you. But Lynch can be—”

“Difficult,” she repeated his word. “And profitable. Make your choice.”

“I’m not Lynch’s only source. It would only be a matter of time until he finds out what he wants to know.”

“That could be the time I need to come to terms with what’s happening without his interference. Stopping you would be the first line of defense.”

“You speak as if he’s your enemy. We both know that’s not true, Kendra. Why not be reasonable and let me discuss—”

“Make your choice.”

Silence. “I suppose I could avoid talking to him for a while. After all, I’m not at his beck and call.”

“It only seems that way. Remember to call Metcalf. I’ll be in touch tomorrow, Griffin.” She cut the connection.

Done.

It wouldn’t be a permanent fix, but it would have to do. It might keep Lynch from taking any action for a day or two and free her from his machinations.

Machinations was such a hard, soulless word, and it reminded her of what Griffin had said.

You speak as if he’s your enemy.

He was not her enemy. He could never be her enemy. But sometimes it felt safer to treat him as if he was.

* * *

Kabul, Afghanistan

Voicemail.

It was the second time Lynch had called Griffin, and both times the calls had gone to voicemail.

Lynch leaned back in his office chair and stared at the green glow of the lampshade illuminating the papers on his desk. The voicemail could mean nothing, but Griffin usually picked up his calls right away.

He punched in Metcalf’s number and waited.

Voicemail.

He shook his head and smiled slowly. Kendra had worked quickly to slam those particular doors in his face. But then she was always efficient, and she’d been very clear that she didn’t want him to have anything to do with this case involving friends from her childhood. He’d actually considered waiting in the wings to see if there were problems.

Until he’d realized she was hiding something.

If Griffin had reassured him, he might still have stayed in the background. But Griffin had not reassured him and it was probably because Kendra had not wanted him to talk to Lynch.

Trouble?

Possibly. But even if it was only that Kendra wanted to avoid his interference because of her emotional attachment to these friends from her past, he had to be certain. Everyone needed privacy, but he couldn’t let allowing Kendra her personal space to put her at risk.

So do what had to be done, but do it in the least aggressive way possible. He reached for his phone again.

On the other hand, the nuances of being aggressive could sometimes be many-faceted, intricately complicated…and ultimately satisfying.

He quickly dialed the number and listened to it ring.

Chapter

6

Damn traffic.

Kendra had woken up, showered, thrown on her clothes, and grabbed an Uber car to the Woodward Academy. She thought she’d be traveling against the flow of rush-hour traffic, but the I-5 freeway had a way of quashing any foolish notions of hope or optimism. Still, the ride did give her time to catch up on emails and rearrange her day’s appointment schedule.

She needed to go back to Woodward and see the crime scenes in daylight, though she doubted she’d missed anything during her initial sweeps. And now maybe she could learn something from the other teachers and staff members.

Her phone vibrated in her hand. Probably a callback from one of her music therapy clients. Hopefully they’d be willing to move their appointment to a time when—

DO I NEED TO COME BACK THERE?

It was a text message from Lynch.

She typed her response: ABSOLUTELY NOT. WHY? ASSISTANCE STILL NOT NEEDED. MUST GET OVER ONESELF.

He

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