"Okay, it was an impulse. She seemed ... lost. Besides, my mother needs a project." She smiled slyly. "And I like serving up challenges to her. She hasn't had a decent one since the day I moved out. I guarantee that woman will have a new att.i.tude after their first encounter."

"Suppose she doesn't decide to accept this particular challenge?"

"Then I'll find another way that doesn't involve her."

"Why? Do you need a project, too? Somehow I don't get that impression."

"You do what you choose to do, what you have to do." She frowned. "Now stop wasting time trying to probe my motives and get back to business. There were no records of incoming calls to Jeff's phone at that time, were there?"

Lynch patted his tablet. "Nope. He made a call just after he left his office on his way to see her, but that's the end of his phone activity."

"For some reason, he was using a second cell phone."

"A phone the FBI didn't know about. It doesn't appear anywhere in his file. It could have been a disposable model that came with usage minutes. If he paid cash, n.o.body could trace it to him."

"But why?"

Lynch handed his ticket to the parking attendant, who ran to fetch his car. After a moment's silence, he turned toward Kendra. "Beats the h.e.l.l out of me. I was hoping you'd have an answer. Haven't you come up with some way to put all the pieces together yet? Santini would be very disappointed in you."

She wanted to hit him. She was feeling bewildered and frustrated and a little scared. She didn't need Lynch's mockery just then. "Go screw yourself."

His smile faded. "I was only half joking. I did hope that you might have caught something in what she told us that I didn't. You've been very ... productive."

"And you wanted to squeeze every bit of whatever usefulness I have in this mess out of me?"

"Did you expect anything else?"

"No." The parking attendant was holding open the pa.s.senger door of Lynch's car, and she moved toward it. "I learned a long time ago that people have their own agendas and those who are willing to compromise what they want are very rare."

"But you've run across a few of those rare souls?"

"Yes." She got into the car. "And you're not one of them."

He chuckled as he started the car. "And are you, Kendra Michaels?"

"Not often. But I believe in payback."

He looked away from her. "So do I."

She was once more aware of that glint of hardness that had the texture of a machete blade. "I don't think we're talking about the same thing."

"No." He didn't glance away from the street as he pulled out of the parking lot. "I'm quite sure that we're not..."

Miramar Naval Hospital

4:30 P.M.

Dr. Myles Denton entered the conference room and pulled off his surgical mask. "I hope you have better news for me this time. Your handling of the details of the transfer has been atrocious."

"h.e.l.lo, Denton." Charles Schuyler sat down at the head of the long table. "I feel a bit resentful. Once again, Dr. Denton, you're treating me like your employee, when it is actually the other way around."

"Interesting that you think so," Denton said. "I think it would be more accurate to say that we're partners. Each of us has his part to play in this little endeavor. And so far, I've been better about keeping my end of the bargain. I've produced the product. All you have to do is collect the last batch and get it out of the country. I think I should have my money now."

"No way. You've left me with some nasty ends to tie up. You get nothing until we get the full shipment on that plane and you hand over that disc to me."

"The shipment should be enough. It's your job to get the disc."

"You're incredible. It's your a.s.sistant who brought this mess down on us."

"And I informed on her, didn't I? So now it's your problem."

No use arguing with the a.s.shole. Just lay down the law and change the subject. "No money until the project is safe." Schuyler pointed to the mask. "I was surprised to hear you were in surgery. I thought you were just doing research these days."

Denton shrugged. "I'm a good surgeon. One of the best, actually. Research is certainly more fulfilling in the long run, but when you've been given such a gift, it would be criminal to waste it."

"Modest as ever, Doctor."

"Let the mediocre ones wallow in modesty."

Schuyler nodded. Arrogant p.r.i.c.k. "To answer your question, the news isn't good. The FBI is investigating the deaths."

Denton dropped down in a chair, looking much less confident than he had only seconds before, Schuyler noticed with satisfaction. "They've made the connection?"

"They've made a connection. We don't know what, exactly. We do know this case has the interest of someone at the highest levels of the Justice Department."

"s.h.i.t." Denton slammed his fist on the table. "It's that geriatric imbecile you insist on using. I thought you were going to make the deaths look like accidents. Isn't that what your guys do?"

"If it was just a couple deaths, and we'd had more time on our hands, yeah, maybe. But you insisted you had to have more than the one or two we agreed on. And that accidental approach isn't nearly as certain. If we try to make it look like natural causes, that opens up the possibility of a medical investigation, which none of us wants." He looked him in the eye. "Do we?"

"Of course not."

"The murders we've been doing are so obvious it was unlikely that a complete autopsy would be ordered. It's the best we could do. And, Doctor, you're the one who insisted on one hundred percent containment."

"It's essential. But why in the h.e.l.l is the DOJ interested?"

"We have no idea. Even if the local police know that the deaths were somehow related, this case shouldn't interest Washington." He paused. "And we've stopped the FBI investigation in its tracks."

"Then how could this have happened?"

"We're working on finding out. The DOJ has brought in a heavy hitter, an exFBI agent by the name of Adam Lynch. He's working with a woman, Kendra Michaels."

"Another agent?"

"Actually, no. She's a music therapist."

"You're not serious."

"I am. She's consulted on a few cases before, but details are spa.r.s.e. She's freelance, and, apparently, she's never interested in taking credit, which makes it difficult to know exactly what she's done for them in the past." His lips tightened grimly. "But I can tell you that she's extraordinary."

"Is she a threat?"

"Absolutely."

Denton shook his head emphatically. "Then stop her, dammit. This could destroy everything. We're too close to botch it all now."

"We won't. I've taken the problem in hand. We've planned for every contingency."

"Every contingency?"

Denton was trying to conceal the fact that he was scared s.h.i.tless. Good, that increased Schuyler's control. So much for the brilliant physician's G.o.dlike ego. Screw you, Denton.

Schuyler stood up and walked to the end of the conference table to stand beside Denton. "It could get a little messy, but you needn't be concerned with the details. How many times have you told me that you don't want to be involved?" And, when he had what he needed from Denton, he'd make sure the involvement was severed ... permanently. He patted him soothingly on the shoulder. "I just thought you should be informed." Keep him calm, keep him doing exactly what he wanted him to do. "Another few days, and it will be all over. We'll both be on easy street. Let me worry about Kendra Michaels."

THIS IS JUST WHAT SHE needed, Kendra thought as she watched Jimmy playing the drums again. Lynch had tried to force a detour to the medical examiner's office to join Sienna Deever in her examination of the corpse, but she'd held firm. She wasn't putting the rest of her life on hold again, not for anyone or any reason.

The recorded tune ended, but the boy continued playing. "Jimmy, the song's over," she said over the sound of his snare.

He laughed. "But I can still hear it!"

"Of course you can. But we need to do something else right now."

His expression clouded. "No, I love to play!"

"I know, Jimmy. But now I need you to stop. Will you do that for me?"

To her surprise, he abruptly stopped.

Progress. There was a time when it would have been necessary to grab the sticks from Jimmy's hands to keep him from playing. Now he was making connections between what he heard and what he must do.

Could she be making a difference? Naturally, it was a collaboration between her, Jimmy's parents, and his teachers, but she couldn't help but think that the boy's interest in music might be helping him form connections that had once eluded him.

Don't get carried away, she told herself. As she always told the hopeful parents, it's a marathon.

She smiled. "Thank you for stopping when I asked you, Jimmy. We can play some more later, but first we're going to play some 'name that tune.'" She picked up her guitar. "You like this game, remember? I'm going to play some songs you know, one note at a time, and you can stop me when you remember it. Okay?"

He nodded. "I like it. And I'm good at it."

"Yes, you are. And getting better all the time. So, we're going to-"

A chime sounded, signaling that someone had opened the door of the outer office.

Kendra checked the screen of her phone, but the office webcam feed was a white blur. Malfunction or ... She stared at it for a long moment.

"What's wrong?" Jimmy said.

She swiped her finger across the phone's touch screen to pull up the parking-lot webcam feed. Jimmy's mother, Tina, had left to pick up her daughter from school, but she wouldn't be back for another twenty minutes or so. And there was no trace of her gold van in the almost empty lot.

Jimmy leaned over and peered at her phone. "Two-HXW-100," he whispered.

"What?"

Her office's outer door splintered open!

A heavyset, gray-haired man in a tan sports jacket stared at her through the window of her inner studio door.

Kendra bolted toward the entrance. The man, obviously surprised to see her rushing in his direction, stepped back and raised a silver revolver.

Gotta make this count ...

She threw herself forward and punched the k.n.o.b lock.

The man aimed at her head and squeezed the trigger. Two shots rang out.

Jimmy jumped toward her. "Kendra!"

A spiderweb of cracks spread across the gla.s.s pane's surface, but the window held. The man stared at it for a moment, then barreled into it with his right shoulder. The cracks multiplied.

Kendra grabbed Jimmy's hand and ran for the other door, which would take them into the observation area behind the one-way gla.s.s. "This way, Jimmy. Hurry!"

"Two-HXW-100," he said again.

What in the h.e.l.l?

No time for a.n.a.lysis. She pulled him into the observation room and slammed the door shut. Her first instinct was to run through the other door to the corridor, but then it would be all too easy to intercept them. No, there was only one way out.

Up.

She jumped onto a chair, grabbed another by its plastic back, and raised it above her head to push up a suspended ceiling panel. She craned her neck to see up into the ceiling. This could work ...

Jimmy spun toward the one-way gla.s.s, watching as the man repeatedly hurled himself at the door on the other side of the studio. "He's getting through!"

Mustn't panic. Stay calm for Jimmy. She dropped the chair and reached down for him. "Come here. I'm going to give you a boost. We're going up there."

He looked uncertainly through the dark opening in the ceiling.

"Now, Jimmy. Come here."

He snapped to attention and gave her his hands. She pulled him up to the chair and lifted him up to the opening. "See that metal beam, Jimmy? Grab on to that and pull yourself up."