Night Watch (Kendra Michaels #4)(73)

Jessie nodded slowly. “I’ve been there.”

“I’m sure you have.” She looked down into the coffee in her cup. “But I’ve been thinking that maybe I should have stuck around and—” She shook her head. “The ever-alluring what-might-have-beens. You can’t go back. You just have to go forward.”

“And I’ve been there, too,” Jessie said. “So how are you taking this battering ram into the future? I’m guessing that you’re talking about this Night Watch supporter who you think had Waldridge under his thumb?”

“I thought it might be a place to start. It looked like he was lording over Waldridge, and making him do something he didn’t want to do.” She was remembering more about that night with every passing moment. “And when I finally convinced Waldridge I wanted to go, he told me to get the hell out of the auditorium. To go right now.” She added, “It was almost as if he was afraid someone would stop me. Or as if he would be forced to stop me.”

“Forced?”

“I don’t know. Maybe not.”

“And maybe so,” Jessie said. “Night Watch is very much involved from what we can find out. The word force might be significant in the scheme of things. You don’t have any idea of this man’s name?”

She shook her head. “No idea. Waldridge didn’t mention it.”

“I suppose we could go back to paperwork about your tour and see if we can find anything.”

“Eight years ago, Jessie.”

“Difficult, but not impossible. We might even find some candid photos.” She wrinkled her nose. “Though it might be time-consuming.”

“Particularly since the tour was sponsored by Night Watch for publicity purposes. It’s not as if anyone from Night Watch would have to sign up for the lectures.”

“I could still go for it.”

Kendra was silent. “Yes, but so can I.”

Jessie tilted her head, studying her expression. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re right, we need a photo. To show Powers as a point of strength. To give to the FBI and see if they pull anything from facial recognition. To see if he was anywhere near Big Bear or Waldridge’s hotel.”

“And where can we get this photo?”

“You check your sources. I’ll check mine.”

“And what are your sources?”

She tapped her temple. “The one that I told you that I didn’t have. Super-duper memory. I remember what he looked like. I remember everything about him.”

“After eight years?”

“It was a very strange and special night. I felt as if I were exploding inside, and everything around me was caught, held forever. I was looking into a crystal ball and seeing my life ahead of me. He was only on the edge of that crystal ball, but he was caught in it, too.”

“And how are you going to bring him out of that crystal ball?”

“I know a wonderful sketch artist, Bill Dillingham. He’s helped me on cases before. If anyone can do it, he will.”

“Some sketch artists are terrific. But they’re only as good as the witness who gives them the description.”

“Are you doubting me?”

“Yep. Eight years, no prolonged exposure to the subject, emotional involvement. It’s a long shot.”

Kendra nodded. “I know it is. But we haven’t gotten lucky so far. I’m figuring that it’s time. As I said, I don’t have a perfect memory, but it’s pretty darn good. And that night was so special for me, it might give me the edge I need.” She paused. “I’m going to call Bill Dillingham now and see if he’ll see me. Do you want to go along?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

“So that you can laugh at me later?”

“No way. If anyone can pull it off, I think it could be you. And, if you really fall on your face, then I’ll be there to sympathize.” She grinned. “And then tell you I-told-you-so.”

*

WHEN KENDRA HUNG UP from talking to Bill Dillingham, she was frowning. The conversation had made her very uneasy, and so had Bill’s voice on the phone.

“Something wrong?” Jessie asked curiously.

“I hope not. He didn’t want to do the sketch. He told me he’d give me the name of someone else.” She shook her head. “I told him that I only wanted him, and I’d see him in an hour.”

“Pushy.”

“I didn’t like the way he sounded. Bill has to be almost eighty-five now, and he was kind of frail the last time I worked with him. I don’t think he has family. Or, if he does, he’s still something of a loner.” She got to her feet. “This may be a waste of time for you. You probably won’t be able to meet him. He doesn’t even want me to come.”

“Then I’ll wait outside.” She shrugged. “I don’t think a man that old is going to try to take you down, but a little moral support might do you some good.”

“Take me down?” She looked at her in disbelief. “That’s why you were going with me?”

“Of course not. I was interested, and I wanted to see how talented he was. I’m just accustomed to thinking in terms of protection.” She headed for the door. “Want to take my bike? It will be more fun.”