Secrets of the Lynx

Paul and Kendra were in an adjacent room with Preston. Standing next to the two-way glass, they watched Alex, who was sitting alone in the room.

“He’s an old hand at this,” Preston said. “He’s only said one word—‘lawyer.’ You’ll have more leverage with Yolanda. She wants to cooperate. It’s clear to her that she could go to jail if convicted of harboring a fugitive.”

“It’s good that you have her thinking about that. I’ll interview her now,” Kendra said.

“You going in, too?” Preston asked his brother.

“Yeah.”

“Down the hall, second door on the left,” Preston said, indicating the direction with a nod.

They walked into the room several seconds later and found Yolanda pacing like a caged lion.

“Sit down!” Kendra snapped.

Yolanda obeyed instantly. “You’ve got to believe me. I had no idea there was a warrant out on Alex. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have gone within a mile of him.”

“The fact remains, you were harboring a fugitive. We could send you right back to jail.”

“No, listen, I didn’t know!”

Kendra sat across the table from Yolanda while Paul leaned against the wall, watching them.

“You called Paul Grayhorse yesterday afternoon and asked for his help. You claimed to be afraid of your boyfriend, a police officer, but Alex isn’t a cop. So what’s the deal, Yolanda? What were you trying to pull?” Kendra demanded.

“I didn’t call anyone yesterday. My cell phone didn’t even work up by Navajo Lake,” Yolanda said.

“You weren’t at Navajo Lake. You were home. You telephoned me from your house phone,” Paul said. “I recorded the call, which came at 4:27 p.m.”

“I never made that call! I wasn’t here,” she said, her voice rising. “And I don’t have a boyfriend who’s a cop. I hate cops. N-o offense,” Yolanda told Kendra quickly, clearly regretting the comment. Looking back at Paul, she added, “Dude, I never even heard of you before today.”

“Did anyone actually see you over at Navajo Lake?” Kendra asked her.

“No, we were in the tent most of the time. Remember I told you—” She stopped, then added, “Wait a sec. You said I called you yesterday from my apartment?”

“Yeah,” Paul said.

“Then someone must have broken in,” she said. “That’s the only thing that makes sense. Maybe it was the landlord. He’s kinda creepy.”

Kendra said nothing. Sometimes, unnerved by the silence, a suspect would talk and in the process reveal something important.

Prepared to wait, Kendra glanced casually at Paul and saw that, although his face was void of expression, his eyes were alert. He was taking in everything around him.

For a moment she wondered what lay just beyond that steel-edged resolve. Paul kept his emotions well hidden, yet she knew just how close he’d come to being killed twice in the past year. He’d also lost his partner, and she suspected that beneath the surface he was concealing a lot of anger. Paul carried himself well and was the sexiest man she’d ever met, but was he also a dangerous man, now on the edge?

Kendra stared at the floor for a beat, forcing herself to concentrate, then focused back on their suspect.

The interview continued. “I’d like to believe that you had nothing to do with that phone call to Paul Grayhorse, but you’re going to have to convince me, Yolanda,” Kendra said. “A woman called, so it couldn’t have been your landlord. He’s male.”

Paul came up and stood behind Kendra. “She’s not lying,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Surprised, Kendra turned and saw the utter calm she’d come to associate with Paul etched clearly on his face. With effort, she tore her gaze from his and looked back at Yolanda.

“You said you had a recording of the call I supposedly made to you?” Yolanda asked Paul.

“Yeah, it’s in my voice mail,” Paul said.

“Let me hear it.”

Paul pulled out his cell phone and played it for her.

“That’s not my landlord, and not his wife either. Her voice sounds gravelly. But you can tell it wasn’t me!” Yolanda protested.

“She was whispering,” Kendra said. “For my money, it was you.”

Yolanda shook her head. “Play it again, louder this time,” she asked Paul. As he did, she smiled. “Now I know who it is. That’s Annie, Annie Crenshaw. We used to be friends, but she’s got so many problems now I can’t stand to be around her. I forgot she still has a key to my place.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Now I know what happened to some of my Navajo jewelry. I thought I’d misplaced it, but Annie probably ripped me off. She’s hooked on meth and always needs cash to make a buy.”

“Tell us more about this Annie Crenshaw,” Kendra pressed.

“She got clean about six months ago, then her boyfriend dumped her and she started doing drugs again. She ended up losing her apartment. Now she’s working the streets.”

“Where does she hang out?” Paul asked.

“You might try the old brick building where Hensley’s Gym used to be. It’s supposed to be empty now. Last I heard she was sneaking in at night and crashing in one of the old locker rooms,” Yolanda said. “But I doubt she’s there right now. Once she’s on meth, she finds it hard to stay still. Last time she was using she hung out in the alley between the bus station and the free clinic.”

“Do you happen to have a photo of Annie?” Paul asked.

“No, but I’m sure you’ve got a mug shot somewhere,” Yolanda said, looking over at Kendra.

“What about Alex? Does he know Annie? Could they be working together?” Kendra asked.

Yolanda stared at Kendra as if she’d suddenly lost her mind. “No way. They can’t stand each other. Last time they were in the same room, they went at each other major league and she threatened to have him killed.”

“All right, then. We’ll look into this,” Kendra said.

“So, can I go?” Yolanda stood, looking toward the door.

Kendra shook her head. “Not yet. Detective Bowman still wants to talk to you about Alex. What happens after that is up to him,” Kendra said.

They walked to the door, Kendra knocked, and Preston let them out. He’d been standing in an adjacent room, listening and watching through the one-way glass.

Preston nodded to Kendra, then looked at his brother. “So what’s your take on Yolanda? Do you think she’s telling the truth?”

“I do, which means we need to track down Annie Crenshaw. My guess is that she was paid to make that call, and we need to know by whom,” Paul said.

“That person is probably our shooter, maybe Miller, so finding Annie is our top priority now,” Kendra said, glancing at Preston. The man was a hard-assed cop, yet he never questioned Paul’s take on Yolanda’s credibility. Something told her there was more to Paul’s ability than he’d said.

Maybe he’d trained with covert ops somewhere, working closely with their professional con men and other highly skilled consultants. Federal law enforcement agents often had interesting, varied backgrounds.