Night Watch (Kendra Michaels #4)(4)

He shook his head. “Like I said, extraordinary. Are you working on anything now?”

“No. I still haven’t quite recovered from my last case. It was a serial killer, probably the worst I’ve ever come across. I spent months trying to find him, and it took a real toll on me. As I said, it’s nothing I’ve ever asked for.”

“Then why do you do it?”

She thought for a moment. “When there’s a killer out there who can and will strike again, it seems wrong to refuse if I know I might be able to help catch him.”

Waldridge nodded. “You have a good heart, but you’re right to take care of yourself, Kendra.” He was silent a moment, gazing out at the ocean. “I’m sorry I even brought it up.”

“It’s okay.” But she wasn’t sure it was okay. There had been something odd about that hesitation. She shifted uneasily in her seat before changing the subject. “So what have you been working on?”

“I’m afraid I can’t talk about it.”

“Aw, come on. I practically bared my soul to you.”

He smiled. “And I felt honored by every word. But I really can’t return the favor. I wish I could.”

“I heard you abandoned your corneal-regeneration work.”

“I keep abreast of the latest developments, but I leave it to others to refine the techniques I pioneered. I get more satisfaction from exploring new frontiers.”

“Frontiers you can’t tell me about.”

“Not right now.”

She wrinkled her brow. “Now you have me curious.”

“There’s an old adage about a cat and curiosity. Drop it, Kendra.”

She stiffened. “I’m not a cat, and I’m uneasy about the idea that my being curious about what you’re doing now could cause me to be killed.”

“Of course it couldn’t. I shouldn’t have used that term.” His smile was full of charm. “I was merely trying to shift you away from interrogating me. You always were persistent. It’s really much better for you that we don’t discuss it.”

“Better for me?” Her gaze narrowed on his face. “What in the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head. “I suppose I’m just being overly dramatic. It’s really not all that interesting.”

“Everything you do is interesting. You’re a groundbreaker. Look what you did for me. You’re one of the finest minds in medicine.” Kendra studied him. “I don’t believe you. What’s going on, Charles?”

“Nothing. Just fund-raising meetings, as I said.”

“Where?”

“Downtown, Pasadena, Century City.”

“Anywhere else?”

“No.”

“Please don’t lie to me, Charles,” she said quietly.

Waldridge looked as if he was about to protest, but he caught himself. Then he looked away, then back. “Of course. What, exactly, do you know, Kendra?”

“You arrived here from London only in the last couple days. Since then you’ve been in the local mountains. Big Bear or Baldy, I would guess.”

Waldridge cursed under his breath.

“Am I wrong?” she asked.

“What else?”

She shrugged, then continued, “You drove straight from there to see me. You’ve spent a good deal of the day talking on the phone. You’ve been under an incredible amount of stress.”

“You don’t think asking foundations for money is stressful?”

“That isn’t what you were doing. You were telling Porter to stay out of sight until it was safe. Whoever the hell Porter is.”

He stared at her in shock. “How do you know all this?”

“Same way I always do. I pay attention.”

“That’s too vague. I need to know now. It’s important.”

He spoke with such desperate urgency that Kendra felt compelled to explain herself quickly. “Fine. Take it easy. Your car has a nice dusting of rock salt all the way around. That may be common in other parts of the country at this time of year, but it’s extremely rare in Southern California. The San Bernardino Mountains have had record snowfall this week, and it’s probably the only place within hundreds of miles that has been salting the roads. You also have some on your shoes and the cuffs of your slacks. If you hadn’t come straight here, I know you well enough to know that you would have changed clothes or at least tried to wipe it off.”

Waldridge looked down at his shoes. “I didn’t think that it was that noticeable.”

“It isn’t. And I know you were just in London from your haircut. You’re very particular about the cut, and your stylist also has a specific way of sculpting the eyebrows. I can tell it’s just been cut. Within days of each of your haircuts, a stray lash or two appears between your eyebrows. There are none there. You’ve been in London in the past three or four days.”

“What about my phone calls?”

She could tell that was really bothering him. She hadn’t realized that it would upset him. She had known him so long, she had felt as if she could trust him to understand. “The opening of your right ear is red and slightly chafed. It’s a small area, just about the size of an earbud. If you had been listening to music, you probably would have been using both earphones, not just one. You pretty much confirmed it when I looked in my rearview mirror on the way here and saw you talking on it at a stoplight.”