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That couldn’t be.
Cindy speed-read the short article posted one hour ago.
“A woman wearing a red tracksuit was found on the grounds of the Fuller Theological Seminary in Pasadena. Witnesses told this reporter that the body was lying in plain sight on a path. The victim has not yet been identified, nor have the police stated her cause of death …”
Shoving her laptop aside, Cindy switched on her scanner and tuned it to the local police channel. When the staticky reception cleared, she could make out the voices of cops speaking with dispatch. She caught the words, “Late twenties to early thirties. No ID. Body is still warm.”
Cindy had left Vroman’s at around six and now she leapt to an unprovable but inescapable theory. Someone who’d come to Vroman’s had walked to the seminary campus and killed the woman in red.
Cindy redialed Richie, and when her call went to voicemail, she called Lindsay, who picked up.
“Linds, can you talk?”
“Sure, Cindy. I just got home. How’d it go?”
“Another nightmare, Lindsay. But something worse just happened—”
“Where are you?”
Cindy said, “The Skyways at LAX. SFO is fogged in and I’m flying back tomorrow morning …”
“Are you okay?”
“Lindsay, a woman was murdered within walking distance of Vroman’s where I just spoke. There was a heckler. Named Marge. It’s like Ralph Hammer all over again.”
“You’re going too fast …”
“I’m trying to gauge if I’m paranoid. Or if some killer is trying to freak me out. Can you call Pasadena PD? Find out what the hell happened? They’ll never talk to me.”
“They may not speak with me either,” Lindsay said.
“You’re acop. I’m areporter.”
“Okay. Okay, I’ll give it a shot. Text me your flight info and Rich or I will pick you up at SFO. Call any time if you need to talk. I’m here.”
“Thanks. I love you, Lindsay.”
“I love you, too. See you tomorrow.”
When delivery knocked, Cindy shouted, “Please leave the bag outside.”
She moved her police scanner to the nightstand. The machine chattered with radio calls requesting officers to a fender bender, a drunk and disorderly, a holdup in progress.
Cindy was still monitoring radio calls when she fell asleep.
CHAPTER 30
I WAS AT work before seven that morning. Rich had gone to the airport to get Cindy and would be coming in ASAP. By eight, I’d spoken with Joe and left messages for everyone on my to-do list. Alvarez and I were having coffee at our desks when an email hit my inbox and blew it all to hell.
I stared at the subject heading:News Flash from Blackout to Boxer.And there was an attachment. I said, “Oh, shit,” and Alvarez wheeled her chair around and looked over my shoulder.
“Open it,” she said.
I clicked. The email was blank so I downloaded the video. Like the one Blackout had shot from the back seat of Hammer’s Camry, this was also as seen through the killer’s eyes.
“Body cam?” I said.
“Video glasses,” said Alvarez. “So says Rich’s tech.”
