“Well, there you go. Have you been to Waldridge’s hotel room yourself?”
“No. Santa Monica PD is working the scene.”
“Don’t let them break it down. I’m going down there right now.”
Halderman scowled. “Why? You think you’ll see something all those cops missed?”
Ortiz shrugged. “Actually … she might. I’ll tell you about Dr. Michaels later.” He turned back to her, and offered, “I can make a call.”
Kendra stood. “Thanks, Ortiz. It might make things easier when I get there.”
“You’re not even going to wait and see if they’re willing to let you in?”
“I’ll keep my phone on while I’m driving down. Let me know what they say.” She was heading for the door. “But, one way or another, I’m going to take a look at that room.”
*
SHE DIDN’T WAIT TO HEAR from Ortiz whether he’d been able to get her into the crime scene. She decided it was time to take out insurance.
Before she was even on the I-5 freeway, Kendra voice-dialed a number she hadn’t called in months. She had hoped it would be a good while longer. After hurdling the jittery receptionist, she was finally patched through.
“Special Agent Griffin.”
“Hello, Griffin.”
“Kendra, will you please go easy on my assistant,” he said testily. “She’s already terrified of you for telling her that her sister married a guy just so he could get a green card.”
“Did she disagree? Call me a liar?”
“She’s not talking, and to tell you the truth, I don’t want to know anything more about it.”
“Then tell your assistant she should remove the photo in the lower-right side of her cubicle. I’ll leave it at that.”
“The lower-right side…?” His voice trailed off. “Never mind. Surely you have something more pertinent to talk to me about.”
“I’m on my way to Santa Monica. It’s a case the FBI may have some interest in.”
He paused for a long moment. “Okaay … In that case, perhaps you should be talking to the Bureau’s Los Angeles office.”
“Not yet. It’s about someone I know, Griffin.” She told him about Waldridge and his disappearance.
Griffin clicked his tongue. “So what do you want from me?”
“Access. I want to get in there and look around.”
“And you want me to grease the wheels for you.”
“Yes. Tell them I’m a consultant.”
“But you’re not. At least not on this case.”
“Not yet.”
Silence. “Does that mean you’re ready to come back and do some more work for us?”
Kendra had known this was coming. “Do this for me, and we’ll talk about it. I have to get in that room, Griffin.”
“Believe it or not, most big-city police departments employ very competent investigators. Is there anything that leads you to believe they’re not doing their jobs?”
“No. But they can always use an extra set of eyes.”
“Especially yours?”
“Yes. That’s what you always told me when you wanted my help.”
“But Santa Monica PD hasn’t asked for your help. Or the FBI’s help.”
Griffin was playing with her, trying to manipulate her as he usually did. He hadn’t liked it that she had opted to stay away from the Bureau this long. Put up with it. She needed him at the moment. “Waldridge isn’t just a British citizen. He’s an internationally renowned medical researcher. We may want to get a head start on this.”
“So now it’s ‘we.’ I know this doctor means something to you, Kendra, but you—”
“Then make the call. Get me in there.”
Griffin sighed. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do. The Huntley Hotel?”
“Yes. Thanks, Griffin.”
“Don’t thank me yet. And if I do get you in there, do me a favor and don’t treat them like they’re total idiots. Okay?”
“But what if they are total idiots?”
“Keep it to yourself.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“That’s not very comforting. Good-bye, Kendra.”
*
DESPITE A TRAFFIC SNARL-UP in Irvine, Kendra reached the Huntley Hotel in less than two hours. She stepped off the elevator on the eighth floor and immediately spotted a uniformed officer at the end of the corridor. As she walked toward him, he quickly sprang into intercept mode.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I’ll have to ask you to—”
“It’s okay, Officer,” a voice called from the end of the hall. “Let her through.”
Kendra looked up to see a stocky detective with close-cropped blond hair and a bright red face. It wasn’t a sunburn, she decided. He was probably just of Irish descent.
She extended her hand. “I’m Kendra Michaels.”
“Tommy Shea, Santa Monica PD.” He shook her hand. “In the past couple hours, I’ve heard from both the FBI and the San Diego PD about you, Dr. Michaels. They seemed to think it was extremely important that you take a look at this crime scene.”
“I appreciate it.”