Page 6

Chapter Six

K enna pushed open the car door and got out. Smoke lingered on the air, along with the earthy tang of something else. Trash littered the parking lot in a few places. The cars were either older high-end models or the kind of rusty compact that looked like the engine was about to fall out.

An unmarked police car pulled into the lot at the far end. Antennae for their radios on the roof was a dead giveaway, along with the unit for a blue-and-red flashing light at the bottom of the dash window, though it was currently dark.

The engine revved in the car she’d just been in.

Roxanne pulled away from the space and left the parking lot in a hurry.

“Great.” Kenna turned back to the cop car and watched them pull up by the stairs. Two detectives got out, a male and a female. Both wore dark-colored suit pants and a white shirt, over which the woman had pulled a dark green cargo jacket.

They both had short hair, though the man’s was about as rumpled as his suit. The woman had gelled her pixie cut to lay close to one side of her face.

Instead of going to the stairs and up to the crime scene, they crossed to her.

Kenna asked, “Who ratted me out?”

The woman said, “Your boyfriend told us to wait an hour, then try the crime scene. Lo and behold.” She waved at Kenna.

“He told you where to find me?” At least it was intel that gave them something to do. He’d probably figured if she didn’t want to be found, then she wouldn’t do the obvious thing—come here. “I guess that means I have nothing to hide.”

The male detective eyed her. “We’re the ones who’ll make that determination.”

“Kenna Banbury.” She held out her hand to the woman. “I’d love to know where you got that jacket.”

The woman grinned. “Detective Naomi Langford. Give me your info. I’ll send you a link.”

Kenna shook hands with the other cop as well. He said, “Detective Sebastian Davis. Nice to meet you and all that.”

“What can I help you with?” It was better to act like she knew nothing and needed the information from them rather than having these people think that, somehow, she knew more than they realized.

Davis sized her up. “Have you ever been to this establishment before?”

“No.”

“Do you have any close relatives, a sibling or cousin, parent or aunt or uncle who might have?”

“I would have said I don’t have any of those things. No living relatives that I’m aware of. But I guess that’s not true anymore, is it? I mean, it can’t be.” She channeled a little of her feelings about the fact her mom was alive, when she’d believed for years that the woman was dead, into her words.

“So there’s nothing you can tell us about this?” Detective Davis shut down, realizing there wasn’t much more that Kenna could offer to his investigation if she knew nothing.

Which would mean she was shut out, barely a witness or someone they could tap for information. “I’m sure I could tell you a lot since investigating missing persons cases is what I do.”

A lot of cops didn’t want private investigators in their business at the best of times. This guy was probably one of those and had no intention of asking for her help. Any minute, he’d explain that to her in no uncertain terms, and then Kenna wouldn’t be able to do anything without defying direct instructions and winding up in trouble.

Fortunately, Detective Langford said, “So tell us.”

Kenna wasn’t sure Naomi was ready for the conversation about genetically altered kids born every generation, operators and assets, an international conspiracy, and an underground resistance. She barely had a grasp on it herself. She would do what she could to fix the problem, though she didn’t want to be blamed for opening the door for the company to start encroaching on US territory.

After she’d taken down the Rosenburgs, the company exploited the power vacuum, where they hadn’t been able to get a foothold before, which was just part of what happened. Evil would keep trying to win ground, and good people would continue working to bring justice.

Instead of getting into all that, she asked, “Two people were in the room? And they’re both missing?”

“Presumed dead, given the amount of blood,” Davis said. “And yes, they’re missing.”

“Suspects?”

“This is an ongoing investigation.” He lifted his chin.

Langford said, “You can understand that.”

They were testing her to see how cooperative she was going to be. Kenna said, “I’ve learned in the last few months that I may have siblings, or cousins, with DNA similar enough that one of them would be a familial match. But I believed they were all in Europe. At least, for the most part.”

“But you don’t know?” Langford seemed suspicious.

Kenna didn’t blame her. “It’s a long story, but I believe one of these women might be the one who was here. It might actually be my mother.”

She hadn’t quite acknowledged it yet, but it made sense now. After all this time, though. Why would her mom be here, so close? Or working for them…

The resistance.

She must have never left that group. Which meant she’d never intended to devote everything to protecting her family, because if it had been Kenna, she would never have gone back. She’d have taken her husband and that baby in her care and never looked back. Saving one life—and making a family—was surely more important than going up against an organization like that.

Only wasn’t Kenna doing the same thing? Making a family and resenting facing the organization.

There were international groups, intelligence agencies, and governing bodies whose job it was to fight that fight. One operative couldn’t possibly do it all.

Rather than do it all alone, Kenna had her family to help her.

They were all going to do this together.

“We can take your information,” Davis said. “Keep you apprised of what we learn.”

“Can I see the scene?”

Langford glanced at her partner. “It has already been processed. Anything to find has already been found.”

Kenna waited for the two of them to agree.

Davis said, “I’ll go talk to the manager about the security tape. You take her up there.” He looked at Kenna. “No touching anything.”

She nodded. “I know the rules.”

Kenna and Langford headed for the stairs and up to the second floor. She glanced over at the female detective. “How long have you two been partners?”

“Six years now.” Langford stowed her cell back in a clip on her belt. “First time in Denver?”

“You know what?” Kenna said. “I have no idea.”

Langford glanced over.

Kenna shrugged. “Maybe we came here when I was a kid. My dad and I drove around a lot, and he worked cases. We pretty much lived on the road.”

“I’ve heard a little. Davis is the one who knew who you were the minute your name popped as a familial match. He’d never tell you this, but he’s a huge fan of your dad’s books. He’s in this group on social media that speculates about the true cases behind the ones your father wrote about. I guess it’s like a fan club.”

Kenna said, “If you say so.” She had no interest in notoriety—or speculation. The truth was hard enough to grasp. And that was without a group of people she didn’t know going down rabbit trails of guessing.

“Nothing? No social media?”

“I guess not nothing.” Maizie had set up some accounts to funnel people in the right direction if they genuinely needed help. “But there’s enough going on in the real world to keep me occupied.”

Langford chuckled. “That’s true.” She drew out a set of keys and unlocked the padlock on the door, then pushed it open.

Kenna had to duck under the crime scene tape.

“Stick by the door. Don’t make me go get my booties from the car.”

“Got it,” Kenna said. “I just wanted to take a look.”

“No photos.”

Kenna glanced at her. “How about a light?”

“The switch is to your right.”

Someone had replaced the regular bulbs with red ones, casting an odd glow across the room. “Interesting.”

“That’s what I thought,” Langford said. “Tell me what else you notice.”

Kenna shone her camera flashlight around. “The bed was largely untouched. Maybe they weren’t here for long enough or weren’t here for that. Did you get an ID back on the second set of DNA?”

“Male, a few parameters other than that. But nothing popped as far as an ID. He isn’t in our system, the federal database, or military.”

“Hmm.” She kept shining the flashlight around, scanning the room where she could see it. Definitely not a full picture, given she couldn’t walk through the place. “Bathroom?”

“Untouched.”

“Security video?”

“That’s what Davis is getting. Whoever was in here was incapacitated.”

So they were subdued, apparently in a way that cost them a lot of blood, and then taken away? Perhaps for the killer to bury them elsewhere. Or they were going to continue the party.

Kenna said, “Maybe they needed them together, and this was the only way to manage it. Or these two were just unlucky.”

They might have been specifically targeted or chosen completely at random. Most killers who intentionally set up a death chose the victim because they fit the need. Stalking them. Preparing. Incidents like this weren’t usually random, but the mess with this scene could indicate something went wrong.

“You think they fought back?” She didn’t see any destroyed furniture.

“You know what I think?” Langford asked.

Kenna ducked under the tape and stepped out. “What’s that?”

“I think he was the target. More blood loss. Her DNA was in minimal amounts.” Langford leaned against the balcony rail and folded her arms. “His was more extensive. Maybe she lured him under false pretenses with the intention of taking his life.”

“You think she might’ve been the perpetrator?” Kenna also leaned against the rail and saw Davis leave the main office. “It could just as easily have been the male who lured her there, and he was injured when she defended herself.”

“There’s certainly no evidence a third person was here.”

“That only means that if there was a third person who took them both, they’re smart.”

Langford nodded. “I guess the security tape will tell us if they left on foot of their own accord or if they were carried out of here.” She glanced over her shoulder as Davis approached them.

The look on his face didn’t bode well, but perhaps that scowl was normal.

Langford asked, “Footage?” with a little hesitancy in her voice.

Davis stuck his hands in his pockets. “There’s nothing. Someone came in and took a copy, claimed they were police. Had ID and everything. Any files that remained have been mysteriously corrupted. If there was anything on the security footage, we’ll never see it.”

Kenna asked, “Can the employee describe the person who came in?” If they were pretending to be an officer, that was a serious offense, and interfering in a case was even worse.

“They’re asking the person to come in so they can tell us.” Davis stared at her. “Any idea who it might’ve been?”

“It wasn’t me or anyone I work with. I can tell you that much.” She’d barely been in Denver a couple of days. “All I know about this case is what the two of you have told me. When Jax called and said you were looking for me and why, it was the first I’d even heard about it.”

Davis didn’t look convinced, but it wasn’t up to her to change his mind.

It was only up to her to have integrity in her life and her work—and the living out of the faith she’d claimed.

People could believe what they wanted to believe.

“I should be going. Thanks for your time.” Kenna didn’t want to seem too interested, and she needed to find out where Roxanne had gone. It wasn’t a stretch to assume she was the one who’d taken the footage, and if she had, then Kenna wanted to see it. Whether it was anonymously delivered to these two detectives later would be between her and Maizie. Roxanne didn’t need to know.

She shook both of their hands, exchanged business cards, and headed for the stairs, aware that they watched her head down and then away from the front office. On purpose. They didn’t need to believe she was fishing for information so she could run a simultaneous investigation.

Even if she probably would be.

Kenna slid out her phone at the corner and dialed Ramon’s number.

“Yep.”

“It’s me.”

“Obviously.”

Kenna rolled her eyes and heard a car behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the same vehicle approaching, Roxanne in the driver’s seat. “I was gonna ask for a pickup, but my ride just showed.”

“We’re at the campsite. All good?”

“I’ll be there.”

Ramon said, “Bring chips. We just ran out.”

Kenna hung up and waited for Roxanne to pull up. As she slid in, she said, “Didn’t want them to see your face because you’re the one who has their security footage?”

“Among other reasons. I need to maintain a low profile, okay?”

“To keep from being arrested?”

Roxanne shrugged one shoulder. “Finding our asset doesn’t happen if we’re constantly interrupted by law enforcement. Or waylaid by them. Did you see the crime scene?”

Apparently, she’d been too far away to see Kenna go in. “I did.”

“And?”

“The cops don’t have much.”

Roxanne said, “Envelope behind you on the seat.”

Kenna reached back for the thin manila, stuffed with several sheets of paper. “What’s this?”

“Other cases with the same MO.”

She slid the papers out. “Here in Denver?”

Roxanne shook her head. “This is the first one in this city. The others are all over but concentrated in Wyoming and Utah motels on highways that are major travel routes for crossing the west.”

Kenna leafed through the pages. “Where did you get this information?” Some of these cases went back years. “And why has no one put it together that they appear to be the work of one person who likes to keep their activity to a discernable pattern?”

“You tell me. You’re the top-notch investigator.” Roxanne glanced over. “I guess you’ve got a serial kidnapper on your hands. Or a serial murderer.”

“One that took one of your assets. How is that possible? You guys are supposed to be the best of the best.”

“Even the mighty fall,” Roxanne said. “You should know that better than anyone.”