The Naked Eye Read Free Page B

Lynch, and he had connections everywhere.
    A light flashed on the phone in her living room, indicating a message had been received while she was gone. Between three thirty and four thirty in the morning. Probably someone from the crime scene she had just left. Or possibly her mother, who was presently at a conference in Amsterdam and frequently forgot to take into account the time difference.
    She picked up the phone and checked the caller ID: Olancha Police Department.
    Another murder scene? Olancha was over two hundred miles away; she hadn’t cast her net that wide. She tried to remember if she even knew anyone on the force there.
    No, she was sure she didn’t.
    And if there was an active scene, they had to know there was no way she could get there quickly. So why call in the middle of the night?
    Kendra retrieved the voice mail, and there was only a brief message asking her to call Sergeant Hank Filardi at the Olancha PD at her earliest convenience.
    She stared at the cordless phone in her hand.
    No.
    Lynch was right. She needed to step back. Whatever it was, it could wait a few hours while she tried to salvage what was left of this night.
    She put down the phone.
    Todos Santos, Mexico
    VICTOR CHILDRESS
    He stared at the name on the ID card he had just purchased. Victor Childress. Not a name he would have chosen for himself, but it would do.
    He pocketed the passport and turned toward the pounding surf. He couldn’t see the waves crashing on the dark beach though he could hear them. He took a deep breath. It should have been refreshing, but it wasn’t. It was like inhaling salt and dirt.
    He couldn’t wait to leave this place.
    Less than an hour from San Diego, yet a world away. A shit hole, to be sure, but it suited his purposes. No one knew him here, and no one would even think of looking for him. And after all those years in that prison, he needed the time to recharge his batteries and make preparations for his return.
    It was time. Years of planning had finally led to this moment.
    At his feet, a chunky Mexican man struggled to catch his breath as he rolled in a puddle of his own blood. The man’s lungs had collapsed, and he would survive only another minute or so.
    He pocketed his knife and took another look at the forged California driver’s license, and then at the other items he’d been furnished. All the documents he’d ordered were superb. He slipped them into his pocket. The dying man had done magnificent work, but he couldn’t be allowed to live. Things had progressed too far to be derailed by an overtalkative tradesman.
    He stepped over the dying man and walked across the warm sand. The wind suddenly kicked up, as if heralding the start of his journey.
    He felt a surge of exhilaration. It was all coming together.
    The waiting was over.
    Eric Colby smiled. “This is it, Kendra,” he whispered. “Can you feel it? You will soon. This will be our masterpiece…”

 
    CHAPTER 2
    “DR. MICHAELS? KENDRA MICHAELS?”
    Still groggy, Kendra sat up in bed and adjusted the phone against her ear. Had she been more awake, she probably wouldn’t have picked up. She glanced at the clock. 7:25 A.M.
    “Depends on who’s asking?”
    “Sergeant Hank Filardi, Olancha Police Department.”
    It took her a moment to make the connection. “Olancha … Right. You left a message on my phone.”
    “Yes, ma’am. I apologize for the calls, but I was wondering if you could help me out with something.”
    “I see. A homicide case? Is there something about the killer’s M.O. that makes you think I would have special interest in—”
    “No,” he interrupted testily. “Dr. Michaels, we’re quite capable of handling our own homicide cases here. We don’t call on outsiders to—”
    “Then why did you just wake me up?”
    “I’m calling about a young woman named Beth Avery. Do you know her?”
    “Beth.” Kendra tensed. “Is she okay?”
    “Is she a relative of yours?”
    “Is she okay ?” Kendra repeated