Close Your Eyes: A Novel Part 7

"Positive," Sienna said. "It had been in their systems for varying amounts of time but no less than a few weeks."

Kendra tried to absorb it all as she stared absently out the window. She wanted to bolt from the room, take the elevator down, and leave all this behind her.

Dammit.

"Kendra," Lynch said.

She turned around. "Let's talk about Jeff."

"He's the only reason you're here, isn't he?" Griffin's lips twisted. "To h.e.l.l with the case."

Calm down. Don't let this a.s.shole p.i.s.s you off.

It didn't do any good. She was p.i.s.sed and to h.e.l.l with trying to hide it. "You bet it is. What do you expect? This is your case, not mine. I know you don't want me on it. If I thought you could do a decent job of finding him, I wouldn't have to be here."

"I can't tell you how much we appreciate your barging in here to show us how much more brilliant you are than the rest of us," Santini said sarcastically.

Lynch held his hands up as if to block the imminent body blows between them. "Come on, I asked for her help. She knows Agent Stedler better than any of you do, and unless I'm mistaken, she's been of considerable help to you in the past. I know that you've been told to extend every courtesy to me while I'm here, and that also goes for Dr. Michaels. Are we clear?"

Sienna was the only one who nodded.

"How far along was Jeff in his investigation? Was he getting close?" Kendra asked. "Has there been any indication that he or any of you might be in danger?"

There was no answer, but Griffin finally broke the silence. "No," he said. "Sienna here was working the medical aspect of the case, which frankly holds far more promise than anything he was doing. He was running the straight procedural angle, getting statements from family members, coworkers, the usual. He had come up with nothing."

"I want to see his desk."

"Sure, but there's nothing to see."

"I wouldn't be too sure," Lynch said. "Remember who's doing the looking." He gestured toward the door. "By all means, Kendra."

Griffin shrugged. "Whatever."

Griffin led the group out of the conference room and past the long row of cubicles they had pa.s.sed on the way in. They rounded the corner, and Kendra found herself standing in front of Jeff's desk, bordered on the front and right sides with the same green part.i.tions that marked off all of the office's cubicles.

Although she had stood in his apartment less than twelve hours before, she found herself more saddened and unsettled by the sight of his desk. Somehow, this seemed more ... him. In addition to the piles of paperwork, there was the photograph of his sister and late parents, and his autographed Sammy Sosa home-run ball, which he had once confided was merely a forged duplicate-the original was secured in his safety-deposit box, protected from any after-hours cleaning crews brazen enough to rip off an agent in the heart of an FBI field office. It was where he felt most at home, more than at his condo, more than with most of his friends and family, and certainly more than he had ever been with her.

She studied the cluttered desktop as she spoke. "You have the voice memos from his pocket recorder, right?"

Santini nodded. "Lynch called and told us that you wanted those. We transferred them all to a thumb drive. It's about thirty hours. If you'd rather have a transcription..."

"I'll take both, thank you." She pointed to the computer. "Have you searched his files in here?"

"Of course. The only pertinent records were already in the case file."

"How about his Internet search history?"

"We haven't taken it that far yet."

"No time like the present." She hit the s.p.a.ce bar of his keyboard. An FBI splash screen came up with a pa.s.sword prompt. "What's his pa.s.sword?"

Griffin shook his head. "We don't know. I can have an IT guy come and give us access, but I'll have to review it before we can release that information to you. This wasn't his only case."

Bureaucracy at work. As if she gave a d.a.m.n. Kendra picked up the keyboard and angled it into the light and inspected it closely as she shook it for a long moment. She spent another few seconds lightly running her fingers over the rows of keys, pausing occasionally to retry a section. She then placed it back onto the desk, quickly punched a few keys, and watched as Jeff's secure desktop appeared on the screen.

"You knew his pa.s.sword?" Sienna said.

"Not immediately. If you know Jeff, you know that his computer is always pa.s.sword-protected after five minutes of inactivity. He's constantly coming back to check e-mail without sitting down, and when he does, he uses his right index finger to enter the pa.s.sword with a ridiculous amount of force. It's as if he's trying to drill through to the desk. I could see that some of the pa.s.sword keys are loose and the others I could feel. The springs are shot to h.e.l.l. His laptops at home have always been the same way."

Sienna was staring at the keyboard. "How did you figure out the order?"

"I guessed. The pa.s.sword is Seatbelt7. It could have been TabSteel7, BaleTest7, EastBelt7, or quite a few others, but Seatbelt7 seemed like a more obvious place to start."

"Apparently."

Kendra launched the browser and immediately drilled down to the user history.

"Stop. I told you some of this may be cla.s.sified," Griffin said between clenched teeth. "Step away from that computer, Kendra. I'll get you whatever you need, but I must insist that you-"

Lynch quickly stepped protectively behind her and in front of the investigative team. "Come on, Griffin. May I suggest this isn't the time to unload a mound of red tape over us? We're trying to get your agent back."

"So are we all. But we deal with a lot of sensitive material here, and Stedler would have been the first to insist-"

Kendra closed the browser. "It's all yours. I got what I needed."

"s.h.i.+t," Griffin muttered. "Glad to be of service," he said sarcastically. "Anything else?"

"Yes. Who was the last person to see him?" She turned away from the monitor. "Was it one of you?"

"No," Santini said. "As far as we can tell, it was the fiancee of Steve Conroy, victim number three. Jeff interviewed her at her workplace sometime after lunchtime last Thursday."

"I a.s.sume someone has followed up with her since."

"I did," Santini said. "According to her, it was just a routine interview. She has no idea why her fiance was killed, and that's exactly what she told Stedler. He left her place, and no one has seen him since."

"I have her info," Lynch said quietly.

Griffin reached into his pocket and produced a small USB thumb drive. "And now you have it, too. The entire case file is here, along with those voice memos you wanted."

Lynch took the drive, examined it closely for a moment, then handed it back to Griffin. He produced his own smaller drive and held it up. "Please put that info on this one instead."

Griffin moistened his lips. "I don't understand."

"Sure you do," he said. "Your drive has a GPS chip inside it. As long as she's carrying it, you can track her to the square yard."

Kendra raised an eyebrow. "They were trying to track me?"

"Pretty good piece of gear," Lynch said. "I used ones just like it before they came out with models with more durability and better range. The online retailers have been selling that one for a steep discount lately. I guess the budget cuts have hit the Bureau pretty hard, huh?"

"We just want to keep track of our case files," Griffin said. "It's routine."

"That's pretty weak." Lynch pointed to the drive in his hand. "If you wouldn't mind."

Griffin nodded to Santini, who in turn took the drive from Lynch's hand and walked with Sienna toward another cubicle.

Griffin stared at Kendra. "Well? Any thoughts?"

"Other than on the invasion of my personal liberties?"

"As I recall, you always seemed to have had some kind of observation. Don't tell me that you've not been able to form an impression."

"It's too early for impressions."

He stared at her suspiciously for another long moment. "Are you holding back on us?"

She was suddenly angry with Griffin. She was tired of the thinly veiled antagonism and scorn she could sense behind every word. She didn't expect respect, but she resented him trying to use her at the same time that his att.i.tude breathed derision. She had actually been fairly patient ... for her. Screw it. Screw him. "You're the one holding back, Griffin." She paused. "At least from your wife."

He stiffened. "What in the h.e.l.l are you talking about?"

She lowered her voice to malicious softness. "The pretty red-haired woman in the third cubicle from the front. Even if you weren't a married man, she's much too young for you."

His face flushed. "You're delusional."

"Am I?"

"Yes."

"You wanted my impressions."

He quickly turned on his heel. "Santini and Sienna will see you out."

LYNCH WAS STILL SMILING FIVE minutes later as he and Kendra walked toward his car in the parking garage. "Was that last attack really necessary?"

"Of course not. But it sure felt good. Pompous a.s.s. His att.i.tude always annoys me, and I was still p.i.s.sed off about his trying to plant that tracking device on me. I couldn't resist." She looked at the thumb drive in her hand. "But how do I know you're not trying to pull the same trick on me?"

"You don't. You just have to trust the fact that, if I wanted to keep tabs on you, I'd tap into another GPS device that you're much more likely to carry with you at all times."

"Like my phone?"

"It would be more logical."

"Did you already do it?"

He smiled. "Not yet. I wouldn't bother unless I thought it was necessary."

"Comforting."

He changed the subject. "Okay, out with it. How did you know about Griffin and the redhead?"

"I noticed her on our way in."

"So did I. Dark brown jacket, green eyes, very striking. Never mind her age, she's too attractive for him."

"You probably didn't notice her perfume. Angel by Thierry Mugler."

"Can't say I did."

"It's a subtle scent. I picked up a whiff of it on Griffin. He also had some of her base makeup on his neck."

"You can't tell me the brand?"

"Not with any degree of certainty. There are just too many of them out there."

"Ah, too bad."

"Though if I had to venture a guess, I'd say Clinique Number Three Ivory."

Lynch chuckled as he shook his head as he unlocked the car. After they climbed inside, he turned toward her. "Okay, so were you really holding back on them?"

"Not as much as I suspect they were holding back on us. You were looking at that monitor, too. Did you see what I saw?"

"Are you talking about the Google Maps page he had loaded?"

She nodded. "Jeff looked at it on 12:16 P.M. Thursday. Probably just a few minutes before he left to talk to the third victim's fiancee. Is this referenced anywhere in the case files?"

"No."

"I find it hard to believe Griffin didn't already know that."

"Trust me, it's not out of the realm of possibility. But I thought the same thing." He reached underneath his car seat, pulled out a tablet computer, and quickly typed on its gla.s.s surface.

"What are you doing?"

"Checking the Google Earth image he visited." He typed for another few seconds, then showed her his input. "This is it, isn't it?"

She studied the lengthy number he had typed in the address bar. "That's it exactly," she said in surprise.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I've been struggling to keep that in mind until I could write it down. I guess I needn't have bothered."

"I wouldn't say that. I'm a big believer in redundant backup systems."

She snorted. "Nice. So now I'm redundant."

"Actually, in this instance, I'm probably the redundant one." He pressed the Enter key, and the Google Maps loaded and displayed a satellite map of a remote desert area.