smuggle groupies into your hotel room without the press finding out about it.”
“You knew about that?”
“Everyone knew about it, Ganz. And your low-life buddy probably sold tickets.”
The smile faded from Ganz’s face. “Yeah, I heard about the crap he and the other guys pulled. Is that what this is about? Is he in trouble because of that?”
“What’s his last name?” Lynch asked.
Ganz thought for a moment. “Lambert. David Lambert.”
“Would you happen to know where he lived?”
“Afraid not. But I got the feeling he was new in town.”
“What makes you say that?” Kendra said.
“He didn’t know much about San Diego or the team. I thought he might have moved here just to get the job. But he didn’t talk all that much about himself. And once he and the other guys were fired, we never saw them again.”
Kendra pulled out a copy of the sketch that Bill Dillingham had made of the other man she’d seen. “Recognize this man?”
Ganz took the paper from her and studied it. “I don’t think so.”
“Are you sure?” Lynch asked.
Ganz angled the drawing so that the coach could also see it. The coach shook his head no. “Positive. He definitely wasn’t one of the other bodyguards, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
Kendra took back the drawing. “Is there anything else you can remember about David Lambert? Anything that might help us find him?”
“Well…I know he worked out near here. Within walking distance.”
“At a gym?”
“Yeah. I remember him bitching about not being able to use the team gym here at the stadium. But it’s players only, so he had to join a club. It was somewhere nearby, though.”
Kendra nodded. “You’ve been very helpful. Thank you.”
Ganz winked at her. “Sure thing, doll.” He ran back to join his teammates.
She turned toward Lynch. “Did he just call me ‘doll’?”
“Indeed he did.”
“Just checking.”
They thanked the coach for his time and walked back through the empty concourse toward Lynch’s car.
“That was productive,” Lynch said. He tapped out a message on his phone as they walked. “I’m texting Metcalf and Griffin, giving them the David Lambert aka. Depending how far he went in setting up his new identity, there may even be a driver’s license with an address. But these days, law-enforcement facial recognition software makes it a dangerous prospect to pose for any kind of official government ID photo, even under an assumed name.”
“Wouldn’t he have needed a license or passport to fly with the team?”
“They usually fly charter so there’s no airport security screening to worry about. But even on flights where it’s an issue, a good fake will get you past any TSA agent.”
“That’s kind of scary.” She frowned. “But we aren’t going to sit around waiting for the FBI to get back to us, are we?”
“Of course not. That’s never been my speed. Reason number four hundred seventy-two why I couldn’t continue to work as an employee there.” He tilted his head and smiled. “But I didn’t want to be pushy so I thought I’d let you take the lead. However, I’m definitely open to suggestions. What did you have in mind?”
Kendra pulled out her own phone and launched the Google Maps app. “I’ll pull up all the fitness clubs in a three-mile radius. We’ll pound some pavement, visit them all, flash some pictures, and see if they have a member on their rolls by the name of David Lambert.”
He snapped his fingers. “I like it. Very mid-twentieth-century gumshoe.”
“As much as we can be, I guess,” she said dryly as she turned and headed for the exit. “Considering that we’re both holding network-connected supercomputers in our hands.”
Chapter
11
Kendra’s search turned up six fitness clubs and a boxing gym, and they set out on foot to visit them all. They didn’t get a hit on the first club, and the second told them to come back with a warrant. The third club, a shabby little facility on Seventh Street, finally gave them some promising news.
The attractive, red-haired woman at the front desk typed the name on her keyboard and got an immediate hit. “David Keith Lambert. It says here he joined in May of last year.”
Kendra showed her the photo. “Great. Would you know if he looked like this?”
The receptionist smiled. “Like this?” She swiveled her desktop monitor around to let them see.
Kendra froze. It was him.
For some reason, this was even more of a punch to the gut than when Griffin and Metcalf had shown her his old driver’s license photo. This was the man who had come very