Close Your Eyes: A Novel Part 8

She looked at the screen. "Where is that?"

"It looks like the outskirts of San Diego County." He switched on the graphic map overlay. "Ocotillo Wells."

"Where?"

"About a hundred miles east. It doesn't appear that there's much in the area. Looks like an airstrip and maybe a couple of stores."

Kendra took the tablet computer and looked at the screen. "You've read the case file. Does it have anything to do with anything you've seen? Maybe a victim's family member who lives there?"

"No. That's why it stood out for me. Everything else in Jeff's browser history corresponded to this case. Then, just a little while before he goes missing, there's this."

She nodded, gazing at him thoughtfully. "What do you want to do about it?"

He took the tablet and turned it off. "I'm going there."

"When?"

"Now. If Griffin and his team hadn't already studied Stedler's search history, they will now. I'd like to get out there and take a look around before they roll into town and start flashing badges and asking questions."

"I'm going with you." The words tumbled out of her mouth before she had even decided to say them.

He looked at her. "You're a busy woman. I thought you would have an appointment."

"I do." It was with nine-year-old Bridget Finley, and she wasn't at any crucial point that would damage her if Kendra postponed the appointment. "I'll have to cancel it and rebook."

He nodded. "Good. Thank you, Kendra."

"Look, I'm still not committing to anything. If this place was somehow important to Jeff during the last hours that we can track, it's worth a shot."

He started the car. "I agree. Let's get on the road."

CHAPTER.

4.

Ocotillo Wells, California LESS THAN TWO HOURS LATER, Lynch and Kendra pulled off State Highway 78 and studied their arid surroundings. There were no other cars in sight, and the only sounds were from harsh winds blowing sand over the car's roofline. Other than the two-runway airstrip to their immediate left, there were only a gas station, a general store, and a small diner.

"This doesn't even qualify as a town," Kendra said, peering out the windshield. "Not a single traffic light, not a single resident. Are you sure this is right?"

Lynch nodded. "The exact coordinates point up ahead, but that looks even more deserted. This is our best bet. Let's ask around."

They climbed out of his car and walked across the gravel parking lot. "You do the talking," he said.

She wrinkled her brow. "Why me? You're the agent here. Aren't you supposed to be a master of getting people to do and say what you want?"

"Yes. Which is why I want you to do the talking. Few things tug at the heart more than a woman who can't find her missing man. If I talk, they'll think maybe I'm a cop, and he's in some kind of trouble. They won't be as quick to get involved. But with you, they'll think he might be some kind of deadbeat who skipped out on you and your four hungry kids."

She smiled. "Four kids?"

"Four hungry kids. Starving. And if you don't find your man, poor little Jimmy Bob won't be able to get those braces he needs."

"Is that really the image I project?"

"The first rule of persuasion..."

"Don't you mean manipulation?"

"You must remember that others project on you more than you ever do on them. Their a.s.sumptions, their biases, the way they look at the world..."

"If they see that we pulled up in that Ferrari of yours, they're going to know that little Billy Bob-"

"Jimmy Bob."

"Pardon me, Jimmy Bob, will never have a problem getting those braces."

"You're right. I should have driven my boring car today. Let's hope no one saw it." He shot her a sideways glance. "But I still want you to do the talking."

"Fine."

They stepped inside the diner and saw that the place was empty of customers. The one waitress leaned against the counter watching an episode of The People's Court.

She turned around. "Two for lunch?"

"No"-Kendra noticed that the waitress's name on her ID badge was Sylvia Warnot-"but I wonder if you could help me, Ms. Warnot. I think my boyfriend may have come through here a few days ago, and he's missing. We're worried sick about him." She pulled out her phone and used the touch screen to scroll through her photographs. She showed the waitress a shot of her and Jeff on Coronado Island, then pinched the screen to enlarge his face. "Does he look familiar to you?"

Sylvia Warnot stared at the image, then finally shook her head. "I'm sorry, hon. I'm pretty sure I haven't seen him."

Kendra's expression became pleading. "Are you sure? It probably would have been last Thursday."

The waitress's eyes lit up. "I'm off on Thursdays." She pointed at Kendra's phone. "Can you use that to e-mail the picture?"

"Sure."

The waitress reached into her ap.r.o.n pocket and produced a pen and notepad. She scribbled an e-mail address, tore off the page, and handed it to her. "Send that picture to this address. My cousin, Patsy, was working that day, so she might have seen him."

"I'll do it right now." Kendra keyed in the e-mail address and sent the photo along with Jeff's name, the make and model of his car, and the date he might have driven through.

Lynch pointed toward the east. "What's down there? Anything?"

Sylvia Warnot shook her head. "Devil's Slide is just down the road a piece. It's an old mountain that the kids use for off-roading. Too hot for anyone this time of year, though."

"Thanks for helping," Kendra said. "It means a lot to me."

"Don't let it mean too much, hon." The waitress's expression was sympathetic but a little cynical. "Some guys just don't want to be found. They get tired of us and head for new pastures."

"I think you're wrong. Jeff wouldn't just leave me without a word." She turned toward the door. "But thanks anyway."

"You did a good job," Lynch said as they left the restaurant and walked back to the car. "Very convincing."

"I was only telling the truth. Jeff's not a man who would forget his responsibilities. He was a good guy."

"But one you decided you couldn't live with. I wonder, was it because he was such a good guy? Did he bore you, Kendra?"

She stiffened. "I told you why we parted company. Not that it's any of your business."

"You're absolutely right. Forget I asked. Just curious." Before getting in the car, Lynch pulled a pair of binoculars from the backseat and focused on the decaying mountain in the distance.

"See anything?" Kendra asked.

"No, but let's get a closer look at this Devil's Slide. The name itself is intriguing enough for me to want to go there."

They drove down the highway and turned off the pavement. Lynch steered toward the base of the mountain. Kendra could see that it was covered by dozens of crisscrossing trails carved by motorcycles and off-road vehicles.

Lynch braked to a stop. "This is the location tagged on Jeff's computer. Was he a motocross rider or an off-roader?"

"No." Kendra scanned the area. "But that woman was wrong about no one's coming out here today."

"What do you mean?"

"The tracks." Kendra pointed up at the hillside. "Looks like a jeep and at least two motorcycles have been here in the last couple hours. This wind would have already erased tracks older than that."

"Could have been kids getting their adrenaline fix."

"Possibly." She climbed out of the car and walked a few feet up the incline. Made of granite and sand, Devil's Slide rose two hundred feet and sliced the desert for at least a mile. Its numerous slopes and contours seemed to be ready-made for the extreme vehicle sports that were obviously so popular there.

Lynch rolled up his sleeves and unfastened a shirt b.u.t.ton. "I'm going to climb up and take a look around. Stay with the car. If I see anything, I'll- "You stay with the car." Kendra pushed past him and started up the steep incline. "I didn't come all the way out here to sit in your d.a.m.ned Ferrari."

He smiled. "Hate me, Kendra, but don't hate my car. It would show a lack of good judgment."

They made their way up the mountainside, and Kendra soon found herself getting winded, mainly due to the loose sand's making it hard to get traction. The temperature was already well over a hundred, and that didn't help.

They finally reached the summit, and she took a deep breath as she gazed out over the arid terrain. The desert stretched toward infinity, and the only signs of life were a few cars visible on Highway 78. At least ten miles south, she guessed.

Lynch pointed ahead. "The tracks head this way."

"I see. It looks like the jeep and two cycles stayed together. They may still be out here."

"I hope so. I'd like to talk to them."

They walked along the top of the mountain, keeping to the carved-out paths that eased their way along the many slopes and curves. Many of the larger trails were marked off by rope and stakes, now half-buried in the off-season by sand and the occasional clump of vegetation. About halfway down the mountain's expanse, they found a bowl-shaped indention with hundreds of beer bottles, food wrappers, bags, and evidence of a large bonfire.

"Looks like someone had themselves a h.e.l.l of a rave," Lynch said.

"Been there, done that."

He shot her a sideways glance. "When have you ever been to a rave?"

She smiled. "Believe me, I've been to way too many. Do you think just because I was once blind that I was some Goody Two-shoes?"

"So it was back when you were blind?"

"No, as a matter of fact, it was after."

"Really?"

"Why are you surprised?"

"I don't think there are many Ph.D.s dancing around a bonfire and howling at the moon until dawn."

"Not many." She looked down at the still-smoldering ashes of the bonfire as they walked past it. "My hunger for sensory stimulation hasn't always been either reasonable or productive. Just the opposite, especially in those first few years after I got my sight. I wanted to soak up every new experience I could, even the ones that weren't good for me." She shrugged. "It's a wonder I'm still alive."

"What kind of experiences?"

"If you can smoke it, drink it, chase it, or jump it, I've probably done it. It was a crazy time. I know I scared the h.e.l.l out of my mom and my friends. There were even some discussions about having me committed. I can't believe the things I did."

"We all have regrets."

She looked at him. "I don't regret any of it. I certainly wouldn't do those things today, but I wouldn't be the same person now if I hadn't cut loose like that."

"So there were other affairs before Jeff?"

She laughed. "Uh, yeah. Several. But he was probably the first sane relationship I had."

"A lot of women would say it's impossible to have a sane relationship with an FBI agent."

"Women like your ex-wife?"

"We're not talking about me right now."

"Sure we are."

Lynch paused to jump over a gap in the path. After Kendra followed, he turned back. "What split the two of you up? All I know is what I read in the case files. You did good work together."

"We might still be a couple if we hadn't worked together. It was a big mistake."

"The Bureau doesn't think so."