help, she only smiled and said that I had to accept the consequences if I interfered with her arrangements with you about Harley. And then she wished me a good night and shut the door.”
Kendra was laughing helplessly. “Lord, she’s tough. Harley must not have wanted to leave Olivia. I told you that she has issues with him. She set up firm rules and made me promise to share custody, but I didn’t realize she’d get that upset about you interfering. That’s all she said?”
Jessie nodded glumly. “And I wish you’d stop laughing.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just that I would have thought she’d have a little mercy on you and tell you the one thing that would have saved you.”
“And what is that?”
Kendra punched the button for the garage. “That HGTV has twenty-four-hour programming.”
* * *
Kendra was holding on to her patience by a thread. She was sitting in the FBI regional office’s fifth-floor conference room and relating the evening’s events to Metcalf, Griffin, and a pair of SDPD homicide detectives she’d never met before. The cops needed to be brought up to speed on the Woodward Academy investigation, which was a source of annoyance for all involved. Apparently there was some dispute on control and jurisdiction over the murder and attack the previous evening. Kendra made it a point never to get involved in petty squabbles, which arose in a surprising number of her investigations. But this time it was getting in her way.
After the cops and Griffin left, Metcalf brought her a cup of coffee and sat down next to her. “I’m sorry, Kendra. I feel awful.”
She wrinkled her brow. “Why?”
“I knew you were going there. I shouldn’t have let you go alone.”
“The choice wasn’t yours, Metcalf. You told me to wait until today.”
“But I knew you wouldn’t do that.” He shook his head. “When I think what could have happened…”
“It didn’t.”
He was looking down at her bandaged hands. “It did. And it easily could have been worse if Jessie hadn’t been there for you. I would never have forgiven myself.”
He was actually upset. Kendra put her hand on his arm. “Don’t beat yourself up. I know you’re always there when I need you.”
He nodded. “And I always will be. You’re…very special to me, Kendra.”
Kendra looked away. It was the closest he’d ever come to expressing the feelings she suspected he had for her. Damn. She patted his arm, leaned back, and tried to speak casually. “Yeah, we make a good team.”
His face flushed. Obviously not the response he’d hoped for. He immediately awkwardly tried to change the subject. “Uh, we need to have you sit down with our sketch artist. He’ll be in after nine tomorrow, so if we can have you come back?”
The last thing she wanted was to have this stretch out any longer than necessary. “I’d rather see if I can get together with Bill Dillingham and have him make the sketches.”
“Bill Dillingham?” he repeated in surprise. “Is he even still alive?”
“Of course he is.” Kendra made a face. “At least, I think he is.”
“He’s what, a hundred years old?”
“Don’t be ageist. I think he’s only eighty-seven or eighty-eight.”
“Only? Maybe you’d just better come to the office tomorrow and—”
“No. Age doesn’t matter. If Bill will do it for me, he’s the one I want. He’s still the best. One way or another, I’ll make sure you get the sketches tomorrow, okay?” Kendra stood. “Well, I guess I’ll hit it. Can I get a ride home?”
“Sure. I’ll take you myself.”
“I hate to ask it. This is very annoying. Can’t you do something about them returning my car? If you’re so sorry, then get me my car back by the end of the day.”
“I’ll do everything I can. Kendra…” Metcalf paused for a long moment.
Too long.
Don’t let him say anything, she prayed. She hated the thought of embarrassing him or making their professional relationship awkward. She smiled politely but very impersonally. “Yes, Metcalf?”
He finally shook his head. “Nothing. I’ll get my keys.”
* * *
Kendra received a phone message late in the afternoon that her car had been delivered to the parking garage.
Yes.
But that was the only thing that was moving with any degree of speed. It took Kendra several hours and half a dozen phone calls before she finally tracked down Bill Dillingham. She’d feared the worst when she discovered his house had been sold and no new address appeared on any of the online databases, but an old coworker at the San Diego PD finally pointed