Free Sight Unseen by Iris Johansen, Roy Johansen Page B

What more do I need?”
    “An X-ray or two? Those bruises on your cheek and arm look pretty nasty. You tumbled out of a second-floor window. I sure as hell wouldn’t let one of my agents back on duty until they’d been checked out by a doctor.”
    “Then it’s a good thing I’m not one of your agents. And I didn’t tumble, I dove out.”
    “Those paramedics have you pegged. A complete pain in the ass.”
    And she couldn’t deal with any more well-intentioned people trying to stop her from doing what needed doing. She didn’t have the strength right now. “Any news on the police officer?”
    “No. Still no sign of him.” Griffin jerked his thumb toward a squad car parked on the street. “That’s definitely his car, but there’s no sign of a struggle there or in and around the house. The officer may still be alive.”
    She hoped that was true, but she had a feeling that the officer hadn’t been that lucky. She had examined his car herself five minutes before the paramedics arrived on the scene and been relieved that there was no body in the vehicle. “I was led to believe he was already dead. Not that the sick bastard’s word means anything.”
    “No, it doesn’t.”
    Kendra was fighting off a wave of nausea that she tried to believe was caused by the pain and shock of her fall. It didn’t work, those vivid memories of that killer were shaking her to her core. “Unbelievable … That psychopath was standing right in front of me, and I had no idea.”
    “You’re lucky to be alive,” Griffin said harshly.
    “He knew I was coming. He arrived here before I did. We need to figure out how he knew.”
    “Metcalf is already working on it. This guy was actually wearing the cop’s uniform?”
    “At least his badge and name tag. The uniform looked like the genuine article, and it was a good fit. It could have belonged to the officer, or this guy might have brought his own.”
    “Dr. Michaels…” Griffin hesitated for a long moment. “Kendra. This guy, this killer, knows you. He knows how you work. He knew you would be visiting this house at some point.”
    “What if I hadn’t come alone?”
    “He would have waited for you to go alone to another scene. Which you would have done. You know it, I know it, and he knows it. Your presence on this case may actually be feeding his appetites, goading him on.”
    “He was doing a pretty good job of it already. But if you’re saying you’d rather I bow out—”
    “I didn’t say that,” he said sourly. “I might have been thinking it, but I didn’t say it. I know you’re too valuable right now for me to indulge my personal feeling. I’m just pointing out that it’s something of which you should be aware.”
    “I’m not likely to forget it. Believe me. I’m aware.” She pulled the paramedic blanket closer around her. “I need to sit down with a sketch artist. Someone who really knows what he’s doing.”
    “He’s already been set up. I figured you have a pretty clear picture in your head of this guy.”
    “I do. Like a photograph.”
    “The police have an amazing old guy they use sometimes. He’s retired, but he occasionally still—”
    “Bill Dillingham.”
    “You know him?”
    “Yes. He’s very good. One of the best anywhere. The sooner we can get that sketch in circulation, the better.”
    “You’re damn right.” Griffin rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re the only person alive who has actually seen him. That puts an awfully big target on your back.”
    “He was more interested in watching me work. He clearly got some perverse thrill from being so close to me without my knowing it.”
    “Well, that’s in keeping with our profiler’s workup on him. He’s obviously fascinated by you. But now he has to know that tomorrow a sketch of him will be in every newspaper and TV news broadcast in the state.”
    A young crime-scene investigator approached them with a clear plastic evidence bag. “Excuse me, Ms. Michaels, we found this