A Trace of Murder. Блейк Пирс
Keri asked, feigning ignorance.
“We have a foundation that funds reconstructive surgery, mostly for children with facial irregularities, but sometimes for adults recovering from burns or accidents. Kendra runs the foundation and holds two major galas a year. One was scheduled for tonight at the Peninsula Hotel.”
“Is her car here at the house?” Brody asked as they started up a long flight of stairs.
“I honestly don’t know. I can’t believe it didn’t occur to me to check. Let me ask Lupe.”
He took out his cell phone and used what appeared to be a walkie-talkie function.
“Lupe, do you know if Kendra’s car is in the garage?” The response was almost immediate.
“No, Dr. Burlingame. I checked when you called earlier. It’s not there. Also, I noticed one of her small travel bags was missing from her closet when I was hanging some clothes.”
Burlingame looked perplexed.
“That’s odd,” he said.
“What is?” Keri asked.
“I just don’t see why she would have had reason to take a travel bag anywhere. She has a duffel that she uses when she goes to the gym and she uses a garment bag if she plans to change into a gown at a gala location. She only uses the travel bags as carry-ons when we’re actually traveling.”
After climbing the flight of stairs and going down a long hallway, they reached the master bedroom. Brody, winded from the long trip, put his hands on his hips, stuck his chest out, and breathed in heavily.
Keri took the room in. It was enormous, bigger than her entire houseboat all by itself. The four-poster king bed was made. A willowy, sheer canopy surrounded it, making it look like a square cloud. The large balcony, with its door wide open, faced west, offering a view of the Pacific Ocean.
A massive flat-screen TV, easily seventy-five inches, hung on one wall. The other walls were tastefully decorated with paintings and photos of the happy couple. Keri walked over to look at one.
They seemed to be on vacation, somewhere warm with an ocean in the background. Jeremy wore an untucked, wrinkle-free button-down pink shirt with fitted plaid shorts. He had on sunglasses and his smile was slightly goofy and forced, that of a man uncomfortable having his picture taken.
Kendra Burlingame wore a turquoise sundress with stacked, block-heeled cage sandals that looped around her ankles. Her tanned skin popped against the dress. Her black hair was tied in a loose ponytail and her sunglasses rested on her head. She wore a broad smile, as if she’d just been laughing and had only barely managed to contain it. She was as tall as her husband, with long legs and aquamarine eyes that matched the water behind her. She was leaning into him and his arm was casually wrapped around her trim waist. She was stunningly beautiful.
“So the last time you saw your wife was when?” she asked. Her back was to Burlingame but she could see his reflection in the glass frame.
“In here,” he said, his worried face hiding nothing from what she could tell. “It was yesterday morning. I had to leave early to go to San Diego to supervise a complicated procedure. She was still in bed when I kissed her goodbye. It was probably around six forty-five.”
“Was she awake when you left?” Brody asked.
“Yes. She had the TV on. She was watching the local news to see what the weather would be like for tonight’s gala.”
“And that’s the last time you saw her, yesterday morning?” Keri asked again.
“Yes, Detective,” he said, sounding slightly annoyed for the first time. “I’ve answered that question several times now. May I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“I know we have to go through everything methodically here. But in the meantime, can you please have your people check the GPS in Kendra’s phone and car? Maybe that will help locate her.”
Keri had been waiting for him to ask this question. Of course, Hillman had ordered the techs back at the station to begin that process the moment they got the case. But she’d been holding that detail back for this very moment. She wanted to gauge his response to her answer.
“It’s a good idea, Dr. Burlingame,” she said, “which is why we’ve already done it.”
“And what did you find?” Burlingame asked hopefully.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? How could there be nothing?”
“It would appear that in both the phone and the car, the GPS has been turned off.”
Keri, on full alert, watched closely for Burlingame’s reaction.
He stared at her, stunned.
“Turned off? How is that possible?”
“It’s only possible if it was done intentionally, by someone who didn’t want either the phone or the car to be found.”
“Does that mean it was a kidnapper who didn’t want her found?”
“That’s possible,” Brody answered. “Or it could be that she didn’t want to be found.”
Burlingame’s expression went from stunned to disbelieving.
“Are you suggesting that my wife left on her own and tried to hide where she was going?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Brody said.
“No. That doesn’t make any sense. Kendra isn’t the kind of person to do that. Besides, she had no reason to. Our marriage is good. We love each other. She loves her work for the foundation. She loves those kids. She wouldn’t just up and abandon all of that. I would know if there was something wrong. I would know.”
To Keri’s ear, he sounded almost pleading, like a man trying to convince himself. He looked utterly lost.
“Are you sure about that, Doctor?” she asked him. “Sometimes we keep secrets, even from the ones we love. Is there someone else she might have confided in, other than you?”
Burlingame seemed not to hear her. He sat down on the end of the bed, shaking his head slowly, as if that might somehow drive the doubt from his mind.
“Dr. Burlingame?” Keri asked again softly.
“Um, yeah,” he said, rousing himself. “Her best friend is Becky Sampson. They’ve known each other since college. They went to a high school reunion together a couple of weeks ago and Kendra seemed a little rattled after she came back but wouldn’t say why. She lives off Robertson. Maybe Kendra mentioned something to her.”
“All right, we’ll get in touch with her,” Keri assured him. “In the meantime, we’re going to have a crime scene unit come in and do a thorough rundown of your house. We’ll follow up on the last known location of your wife’s car and phone before the GPS was disabled. Are you hearing me, Dr. Burlingame?”
The man appeared to have gone into a numbed stupor, staring straight ahead. At the sound of his name, he blinked and seemed to return to the moment.
“Yes, crime scene unit, GPS check. I understand.”
“We’ll also need to verify everything about your whereabouts yesterday, including your time in San Diego,” Keri said. “We’ll need to contact everyone you dealt with down there.”
“We just have to do our due diligence,” Brody added, in a clunky attempt to be diplomatic.
“I understand. I’m sure the husband is usually the main suspect when a woman disappears. It makes sense. I’ll make a list of everyone I interacted with and give you their numbers. Do you need that now?”
“The sooner the better,” Keri said. “I don’t mean to be harsh but you’re right, Doctor—the husband is typically a prime suspect. And the sooner we can eliminate you as one, the quicker we can move on to other theories. We’re going to have some officers come out and secure the entire area. In