Flashback (Kendra Michaels #11)

Kendra concluded her mini-concert, and the staff began the process of moving the residents away from the area.

Bill Dillingham stepped toward her. He was in his late eighties, and he looked elegant with his stylish slacks, well-coiffed hair, and neatly trimmed silver mustache. “Tough crowd.”

She hugged him. “Good to see you, Bill. Just so you know, I wasn’t here to entertain them.”

He chuckled. “That was painfully obvious.”

“You know why I’m here. And I appreciate your helping arrange it.”

“It was my pleasure, Kendra. You seemed to be reaching Sophie for a minute there.”

“The woman in the floral-print sweater? You know her?”

“No, I can’t say I do. As you can imagine, our dementia residents keep pretty much to themselves. They live in a different building from the rest of us. But an orderly told me that he hasn’t seen her so responsive to anything since she’s been here.”

Kendra unplugged her keyboard and wrapped the power cord around a spindle. “That’s nice to hear. I’d like to do some follow-ups with her. I’ll speak with her family about it.”

“I’m sure they’ll be glad to hear from you.”

“Hard to say. If a patient is here in that wing, the family has probably already given up hope that they can improve. With good reason, most likely. But even if I can’t help them, they can help add to the body of research that my colleagues and I can use to help others. That may not be good enough reason for them. I spend a lot of my time with this, believe me.”

“I believe you.”

Kendra smiled as Bill greeted several others as they walked past. He was obviously one of the institution’s most popular residents, which didn’t surprise her a bit. He was a gregarious, charming man who liked to tell stories from his colorful career as a sketch artist with the San Diego Police Department. But he was also a wonderful listener, a major reason he’d been so good at his job.

She slid her keyboard into its long vinyl sleeve. “How about I take you to lunch, Bill? I know a good restaurant near here.”

“Sounds fun. But there’s something I need to talk to you about first.”

“Sure.”

“You’re not gonna like it.”

She put down her keyboard and turned toward him. “Well, that sounds ominous.”

“It isn’t. Not really. I just know how you feel about investigative work.”

“Oh, no.”

“Sorry, kid. You have a gift, so you shouldn’t be surprised when people ask you to use it.”

“A gift? Sometimes it feels more like a curse.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t I?”

He nodded. “I know you better than that, my dear. Think of all the people you’ve helped. And I’m not talking about the police departments and the FBI. I’m talking about the lives you’ve saved.”

A voice came from behind Kendra. “He’s right, isn’t he?”

She turned to see a woman in her mid-sixties stepping toward her. She extended her hand to Kendra. “Detective Paula Chase, San Diego PD, retired. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kendra.”

Kendra shook hands with her and turned back to Bill. “You didn’t tell me I was walking into an ambush here.”

“Detective Chase is an old friend of mine,” Bill said. “There’s something I thought maybe you could help her with.”

Paula smiled at Kendra. “And even if you can’t, I knew I’d enjoy meeting someone I’ve heard so much about.”