Kendra did not reply. She stood and made her way to the front of the car, where she quickly examined every inch of the engine compartment with a speed and precision that Jeff had once told her reminded him of a laser scanner.

"I thought you said it wouldn't be any use for you to look there," Lynch said.

Kendra looked up. "I was wrong."

"That's a first," Griffin said, as he and Santini approached. "I should have recorded it. Kendra Michaels just admitted that she was wrong."

Kendra ignored him. She pointed to the pool of dried blood on the pavement. "The victim died here. One puncture wound to the chest. No other wounds, correct?"

"That's correct," Santini said.

She nodded. "Then I would say that there's a good possibility that your killer has a gash on his head. It might be on his forehead, but it's most likely above his hairline."

The officers within earshot stopped what they were doing and stared at her. Griffin asked, "And just how ... do you figure that?"

"I wish it was something more impressive, but it's about as basic as you can get." Kendra pointed to the underside edge of the hood. "Blood. It appears that the killer tried to clean it up, but he missed a tiny stain on the underside of the hood. And I think there are a few drops of blood over there on the gra.s.s, too. It's hard to tell since he obviously tried to get rid of it as he did the footprints. But if the blood under the hood checks out, you might have the killer's DNA."

The forensics experts scrambled toward the victim's car as Griffin peered at the tiny rust-colored smudge near the edge of the hood's underside. He scowled. "How in the h.e.l.l were you the only one to see that when we've had a small army combing this scene for seven hours?"

"I'm sure someone would have spotted it once you had the car in your garage," Kendra said. "But out here, everyone had a preconceived notion what to look for. Since the victim didn't have blood on his head or hands, no one thought to look up here for it." She shrugged. "I'm not like you. Visually, it's impossible for me to take anything for granted."

Griffin glanced at the forensics tech now carefully swabbing the stain. "I wish I could say the same for some other people around here."

"I told you, it's not their fault." Kendra glanced back at the area of earth and patchy gra.s.s next to the driver's side door. "The killer obviously spent some time over there trying to sweep his footprints clean. But, if I'm right about the blood droplets on the gra.s.s over there, he may have left behind something much more valuable to us."

The forensics team was already plucking blades of gra.s.s with their tweezers and placing them into evidence vials.

"Well, I guess our work here is done," Lynch said. "Or should I say your work?"

"Maybe. What do we know about the victim?" Kendra asked. "Do we know his occupation?"

Santini consulted a pocket notebook. "Construction. He's been working for a restaurant chain lately. Retrofitting existing buildings to their specs as they expand."

"I a.s.sume he had no knowledge or relationship to any of the other victims?" Lynch asked.

"There's still a lot we don't know about him, but we haven't seen any connection yet," Griffin said.

"Does he have family?" Kendra asked.

"An ex-wife in L.A.," Santini said, still consulting his notebook. "No kids. A sister in northern California was listed as his emergency contact. She's been notified and will be coming to town later today."

A uniformed officer stepped forward. "Sorry, but I must ask you all to clear the roadway. We need to get this road open."

Lynch turned toward Kendra. "Did you get everything you needed?"

She took one last look at the scene. "Yes. I'm through here."

Griffin waved at an enclosed-bed tow truck parked twenty yards up the road, and the vehicle immediately roared to life. He turned back to Kendra and Lynch. "We're taking the car to the FBI garage in the city. The forensics guys will go over it, and we'll let you know if they find anything interesting."

Lynch and Kendra watched as the Volvo was loaded onto the enclosed truck. The entire process took less than three minutes, and it was obvious to Kendra that the driver was accustomed to working quickly and in a way that also preserved the evidentiary value of his cargo.

She turned toward Lynch. "I want to talk to Shawna Davis."

He paused, then made the connection. "The fiancee of victim number three?"

"Yes. She was the last person to see Jeff. He interviewed her just before he disappeared."

"Santini already did a follow-up interview with her. His notes are in the supplemental section of the case file they gave you."

"I read it. I want to talk to her myself."

He motioned for her to follow him back to his car. "I thought you might say that." He checked his watch. "She should be at work now. We can visit her there."

"Where's that?"

"The Hotel Palomar. She plays piano in the lobby."

CHAPTER.

6.

KENDRA AND LYNCH DROVE BACK through downtown to the Hotel Palomar, a luxurious five-star establishment that featured a popular rooftop pool and lounge at which Kendra occasionally enjoyed drinks with friends.

They parked and made their way to the main lobby, a s.p.a.cious, modernistic area with dark floors and walls. Kendra immediately heard the strains of "My Heart Will Go On" wafting through the s.p.a.ce.

Lynch pointed past the registration desk, where a woman was playing a baby grand piano. "That's Shawna Davis. The one who has on more makeup than Lady Gaga."

The small, thin woman at the piano was pasty pale, and her foundation makeup was thick, her eye makeup a little smeared. "Knock it off. She's in mourning and probably trying to hide the fact that she looks like death warmed over. A spray-on tan isn't the easiest thing to apply in the best of circ.u.mstances."

"Sorry, I didn't think. I guess you've noticed I'm not the most sensitive soul." Lynch walked closer to the woman and flashed his ID in her direction.

She nodded and continued playing the song, concluding with a flourish.

"Very nice," Kendra said quietly as she approached. "You play very well."

Shawna stared down at the keyboard. "I've already talked to the police and the FBI. I really don't have anything more to say."

"We're very sorry for your loss," Kendra said. "I know it doesn't make things easier to have people like us grilling you."

"No, it doesn't."

"We'll try not to be repet.i.tious. We're more interested in Agent Stedler," Lynch said. "You were the last person to see him before he disappeared."

"Yeah, that FBI agent told me."

"Special Agent Santini?" Kendra asked.

The woman finally looked up, and Kendra could see that Shawna's eyes were puffed and red from weeping. "Yeah," Shawna said. "Santini was his name. I wasn't much help to him, though."

"When Agent Stedler last came to talk to you, it was for the second time, wasn't it?"

"Yes, he talked to me twice. The first time was just a couple of days after Steve was killed, and he wanted to know about his schedule, who his friends were, that kind of thing. The second time, he mostly asked a lot of questions about Steve's background, his college days, and people he grew up with."

Lynch nodded. "And you gave Agent Santini all that info, too?"

She lifted her thin shoulders in a half shrug. "What I had, which wasn't much."

"I noticed that from the notes I read," Kendra said. "But you had known your fiance for over three years, right?"

She nodded, her eyes moistening. "He was an IT guy at a company where I was temping. It's not like he was hiding anything from me. He said he didn't like to live in the past. I met his family, but he really didn't keep in touch with old friends."

"You told this to Agent Stedler on the last day you saw him?" Lynch asked.

"Yes."

"How did he react?"

She shrugged. "He asked if I had any of Steve's old yearbooks, journals, sc.r.a.pbooks, or anything like that."

"And what did you give him?"

"There was nothing to give. Steve never held on to that kind of stuff."

Kendra moved closer to her and spoke softly. "Shawna, this may seem like nothing, but I'd like you to try to remember something for me. Can you tell me how Agent Stedler's mood was on that last day? Was there anything about him that seemed odd or different compared with your first meeting with him?"

"h.e.l.l, yes," she replied without hesitation.

The immediacy of her response surprised Kendra. She had expected her to mull it over. "How so?"

"The second time, he was much more ... intense. It was almost like he was mad at me."

"Was he?" Kendra said.

"No. At least he said he wasn't." Her lips twisted. "He apologized to me, but his mood still didn't change a whole lot after that."

Kendra wrinkled her brow. She had seen Jeff at work, and the description didn't seem at all like him, especially when interviewing a murder victim's loved one. But it matched the troubled tone she had heard in his voice on the recordings.

"How did he end the interview?" Kendra asked. "Did he discuss talking to you again?"

"No. He didn't say much of anything." Shawna thought for a moment. "He got a call, so he excused himself and left."

"On his cell phone?"

"Yeah."

Kendra shot Lynch a quick glance, and he immediately opened his tablet computer and fingered its touch-screen interface. She turned back to Shawna. "Did you tell Agent Santini about that?"

Shawna shrugged. "No, I actually didn't think about it until now. Mr. Stedler didn't act like it was a big deal or anything. I think he was finished talking to me."

"Did you happen to hear any of his telephone conversation?"

"No." She shrugged again. "Sorry."

Lynch looked up from his tablet. "Excuse me, but can you tell me what kind of phone Agent Stedler was using?"

"I really didn't notice."

"Was it a BlackBerry?" Kendra asked.

"I don't think so," Shawna said slowly, as if trying to visualize it. "Because that's what I use. I think I would have remembered that."

"Okay, good," Kendra said. "Thank you. This has been very helpful."

"Really?" Shawna said doubtfully.

"Yes."

Lynch gave her his card. "We'd appreciate it if you'd call if you come up with anything else that you think might be of interest."

Shawna nodded. "But I don't think I can help you." She blinked rapidly. "I know Agent Stedler thought I was weird that I didn't know more about my fiance. But I knew that he was a good man and that he loved me. I'm not very smart or pretty, but he thought I was wonderful," she said unsteadily. "No one has ever loved me like that before he came along. In the end, that's all that's important, isn't it?"

Kendra nodded. "It comes pretty close," she said gently. "Do you have family with you now?"

She shook her head. "We don't get along. I'm okay. I have a temp clerical job, and I work part-time here. I'll get through this."

But she had lost the one man who had thought her wonderful, Kendra thought. "It's usually good to keep yourself busy. Maybe do something different." She said impulsively, "Why not take a couple cla.s.ses at UC? My mother is a professor, and she could help you out."

Shawna gazed at her in surprise. "I told you, I'm not real smart."

"I think you may be smarter than you think you are. And you're a fine pianist." She handed her one of her own cards. "But you'll never know unless you try. Call me, and I'll put you in touch with my mother." She turned to Lynch. "Let's go."

He nodded, and he and Kendra walked toward the circular, flower-lined driveway outside the lobby. "That was a surprise," he murmured. "Do you think she'll call you?"

Kendra glanced back at the woman at the piano. Shawna was still gazing at the card she'd given her. "Maybe. I'll give her two days, then I'll turn my mother loose on her. She'll shape her up."

His eyes were narrowed on her face. "Why are you bothering? She's nothing to you."