“No.” Jane smiled. “So now are you going to tell me where I can find my Guccis?”

“Under the sofa in your sitting room, probably on the left side.”

Jane’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Nah, just kidding about that one. Who do you think I am?”

Jane shook her head. “I’m still trying to figure that out.”

“But I can tell you that your favorite bracelet was made in the twenties or thirties, possibly made of silver and Czech glass. Your second favorite is very colorful, maybe amber, blue-and-white stardust patterns all around, with intricate gold settings.”

Jane instinctively gripped her own bare left wrist. “You’re right. But I didn’t bring either of them with me.”

“I’m sure you had more important things on your mind. You use an iPhone, and you don’t own a car. Not that you really need one in London. Eve already told me that you’re an artist, but she didn’t say that you’ve recently been doing microscopic detail work, possibly photorealism?”

Jane was gazing at her in amazement. “Yes, I’ve been experimenting just in the past few weeks. I haven’t shown anyone my work yet.”

“I’ve always admired artists who weren’t afraid to branch out and try new forms.”

Jane didn’t speak for a moment, then slowly nodded. “The admiration is mutual, Dr. Michaels.”

Kendra inclined her head. “Kendra.”

Joe smiled. “Didn’t I tell you, Jane?”

“Yes,” Jane said. She turned back to Kendra. “But are you sure that someone didn’t tell you all this? Joe wasn’t entirely certain. Not Eve or Joe?”

“I was told, but not by them.”

“Then who?”

“By you.” Kendra leaned back against the porch rail. “All those years I was blind, I used everything I had to make my way in the world. Everything I heard, smelled, felt, and tasted was crucial. I was like a voracious sponge absorbing everything. You just don’t unlearn that. And now that I can see, I want to pay attention to everything. Vision is such a wonderful gift that I don’t take anything for granted.”

“Clearly you don’t,” Jane said. “So how did I tell you all that?”

“Your clothes tell me quite a bit. You’re wearing a three-year-old pair of Feiyue sneakers and a pair of slacks from Maje that are about the same age. You could have bought them in many cities or even online, but each of those items is most popular in France. Odds are that you were living there at the time of purchase.”

Jane nodded. “I was. But you knew I moved later to England.”

“You replaced your shoelaces within the last few months, and those are different from any that Feiyues come with. Those are polyester flat-woven, five-sixteenth-inch-wide laces. Clearly from the UK, not France. Your shoes are scuffed with tiny marks of gray paint on the fronts and backs, some fresher than others. You picked them up by several months of banging your toes and heels against painted staircase risers, probably unavoidable because the treads are so narrow. That wouldn’t be the case in a newer building. And you now obviously go to a hair salon in England, not France.”

Jane flipped back her shoulder-length red-brown hair. “Obviously? I didn’t know I had a British hairstyle.”

“You don’t, but you use a British shampoo. Indian Mulberry by Molton Brown.”

Jane’s mouth fell open. “How in the hell—”

“A very distinctive scent.” Kendra tapped her nose. “When you’re blind, shampoos and soap odors are fairly reliable indicators as to who is standing nearby. And sometimes where people come from.”

“Well, you’re dead right. About my hair and my clothes. You’re quite the fashionista.”

“Me?” Kendra tugged at the collar of her shirt. “Old Navy. But I’m good at recognizing designs. And dialects. Even if I hadn’t seen you, I would have known about the Georgia upbringing, the time spent in Paris, and your most recent time in London. I could pick it up in some of your pronunciations. I knew it from the moment you said that ‘maybe there are too many cooks in the kitchen already.’ The rest just confirmed it.”

Jane wrinkled her nose. “I hope you’re happy. You’ve just made me incredibly self-conscious about the way I speak. What about the sunglasses?”

Kendra stepped closer and used her forefinger to trace an outline around Jane’s eyes. “You wore your Guccis for a long time before you lost them. Those years made a slight tan line on your skin. It’s very, very faint but defined enough for me to see that you had a very nice pair of Gucci double-bridged aviators.”

Jane gave a low whistle. “Wow.”

“And I see a ruddier, more recent outline of another pair of aviators with almost the same shape. But your skin is red and irritated on your nose and also behind both ears. Injuries inflicted by your replacement sunglasses. I’m surprised you stuck with them this long.”

“Me, too. I was busy and didn’t want to go to the bother of finding another pair.”

“And once you find something you like, you stay with it. Your clothes are good-quality, but I’ll bet you wear them for years and years.”

“Yes.” Jane raised her arm and gazed at her wrist. “My skin … Is that how you knew about my bracelets?”

“Yes, you should really use sunscreen more often. It’s just the faintest color … It looks like cut glass separated by alternating patterns … Maybe a flower design?”

“Butterfly.”

“In any case, very Eastern European, very art deco.”

“But you described the other one in such detail.” She frowned. “There was no way my wrist could have told you that, dammit.”

“Not entirely.” Her lips turned up at the corners. “But I could just barely make out a pattern I remember seeing on one of Eve’s bracelets. I complimented her on it and she told me you’d made it for her. Given what I was seeing there, it wasn’t a leap to think you’d also made one for yourself. Since the shape of the beads and settings were the same, it was pretty safe to assume that the colors were also the same as hers.”

“I made mine first.”

“There’s a slight wear mark on your slacks that tells me you usually keep your iPhone in the front-left pocket, which also tells me you don’t often carry a purse. But I don’t see a wear mark for a bigger keychain, which is usually more abrasive. It makes me think you don’t own a car.”

“Not in London, but I’ve started looking for one here.” Jane leaned against the rail next to Kendra. “Okay, now how in the hell did you know I was experimenting with a new painting style?”

“You’ve recently started using a monocle of some kind over your right eye. You squint to hold it in place, which has left faint, callus lines above and below your eyelids. The lines are fairly fresh, meaning you haven’t been doing it for long. That suggests you’ve been doing intricate detail work unlike that in most of your other paintings.”

Jane nodded. “I can see why Eve was so impressed.”

“Okay,” Joe said. “What I want to know is how you knew about all of our law-enforcement visitors.”

“That was the easiest of all,” Kendra pointed down, where hundreds of muddy footprints crisscrossed the porch. “Each agency has its own favorite shoe. Police have their uniform shoes, FBI favors dress shoes with rubber soles, and, when they’re not on a mission, CIA types usually go for leather soles. Each set of footprints tells a story. It’s just a matter of learning to read.”

Joe studied the footprints. “I guess I’m just illiterate.”

Kendra turned to Jane and tilted her head. “Enough? I could probably pull up some other details if I concentrated. But it’s such a waste of time.”

“Enough,” Jane said quietly. “I hope you’re as good at pulling up information about Doane.”

“So do I.” Kendra turned to Joe. “Where can I be helpful? What do we know? Where do we start?”

“What do we know? Damn little. I’d like you to take a look at the safe house in Goldfork, Colorado, where Doane lived, and see if you can come up with something. Venable’s agents have come up with zero leads.”