the trashing of his good name.
“She may have been going to his events for weeks, even months,” Crandall said. “And the poor son of a bitch probably doesn’t even know it.”
Reynolds knew, Tess thought. It explained Abby’s involvement. Reynolds had hired her to deal with the threat of the stalker.
“So how are we playing it?” Tess asked.
“We’re continuing the GPS surveillance. Full-fledged mobile surveillance would be preferable, but it’s manpower intensive, and there’s always the risk of detection.”
“And we still make no attempt to contact her?”
“Everything we know about this woman says she’s paranoid, especially where the government is concerned. We don’t expect her to cooperate with any FBI agents who come knocking at her door. We need to keep our distance for now.”
“How about talking to Reynolds?”
“That’s a no-go, also. We’re staying clear of the congressman. We haven’t even initiated surveillance on him.”
“Why not?”
“We’re working with an insider in his organization, someone well situated to be helpful. We can’t risk raising Reynolds’ suspicions. It could mean exposure for our informant. Right now it’s hands-off.”
“If we don’t contact him or her, aren’t we basically waiting for one of them to make the first move?”
“Not entirely. We’re making one change. We’re upgrading the electronic surveillance on Lowry. Or I should say, you are.”
“Me?”
“You and Agent Crandall. I’m teaming you up, because you two worked together on the Rain Man. That okay with you, Crandall?”
Crandall uttered a half-hearted, “Yes sir.” The question had been a pure formality, anyway.
Tess was confused. “I assumed Michaelson had arranged some nice, boring scut work for me to do.”
“The ADIC isn’t running this show. This is my case, and I’m not giving you scut work. That would be a waste of your abilities, which I deem to be considerable.” Hauser grinned. “The director and I don’t see eye to eye on everything. He may not be happy you’re here, but I am. I want some of that, shall we say, luck of yours coming my way. We can use it.”
Suddenly Tess was almost happy she’d bluffed her way onto the squad. “I'll do my best,” she promised, feeling a bit like a rookie on her first assignment.
Hauser gave her another smothering handshake. “Sounds okay to me. From what I understand, Agent McCallum, your best is very damn good indeed.”
14
Rush hour, which lasted pretty much all day in L.A., was even worse than usual, and it took Abby two hours to get from Santa Ana to San Fernando. She arrived in Andrea Lowry’s neighborhood at five thirty.
She cruised past the house and saw the Chevy Malibu in the carport. Andrea was home. No surprise. Clearly she wasn’t the type who got out much.
Abby parked on a side street, figuring that Andrea had few if any visitors, and if the same car was parked in front of the house two days in a row, it might get noticed. At the corner she glanced up and down the block. The neighborhood was deserted except for a few children in the playground across the street.
She approached the house and went up the front walk. The door opened before she had a chance to ring the bell.
Andrea Lowry stood in the doorway. She was unarmed, and Abby was glad about that.
“ You.” Her eyes were narrowed to slits in her broad, fleshy face. “Do you really think I’m going to give you an interview?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Then go away.” The door began to close.
“I’m not here for an interview,” Abby said. “I’m not even a reporter.”
Andrea flashed a glare at her. “You already told me-”
“I lied. I’m good that.”
There was a beat of silence as Andrea took this in. “You lied? And you expect me to believe you now?”
“I’m hoping.”
“You must take me for a fool.”
“I was hired to locate you. I’m a sort of private investigator. Someone thinks you’re stalking him. He put me on the case.”
Andrea drew a slow breath. When she spoke, her voice was softer. “Who?”
“Congressman Jack Reynolds. You are stalking him, aren’t you, Andrea?” No answer. “I need to know why.”
“I’m not stalking anyone.” The denial was perfunctory, without conviction.
“You’re showing up at his public events. You have a list of them in your car.”
“You looked in my car?”
Abby ignored the question. “Last night you wore a wig to his town hall meeting to disguise yourself. And you don’t even live in his district. Something’s going on.”
She saw the heavy swallowing motion of Andrea’s throat. “And he
… he hired you to ask me about that?”
“He hired me to track you down and get to know you. It’s what I do. Only last night it didn’t go so well.”
“Track me down?” There was a new look in Andrea’s eyes, a look Abby knew well. Fear. “You’re saying you gave him my address?”
Abby raised a placating hand. “I haven’t given him anything. I don’t trust him. He’s not telling me the truth. I’m hoping you will.”
Andrea shifted her weight uneasily. “Why should I talk to you at all?”
“Maybe I can help you.”
“But you’re working for him.”
“Not anymore.” Abby shrugged. “You going to let me in, or should I take a seat on the front steps?”
Andrea took a hesitant step back. “Come in.”
Abby stepped through the doorway. She’d gotten inside. It was a start.
The living room was dimly lit by a lamp on an end table. The curtains were closed, shutting out the sun.
“You’re a private detective?” Andrea asked.
“More or less.”
“May I see your license?”
“Haven’t got one.”
“How can you do your job without a license?”
“Same way porcupines mate-very carefully.”
Andrea frowned, either not getting the joke or not finding it funny. “You could be arrested.”
“The least of my worries.”
“Are you some kind of vigilante?”
“I’ve been called worse.”
“You’re carrying a gun, I take it.”
“Yes.”
“Let me see it.”
Abby wasn’t in the habit of showing her firearm, but she would do so if it gained the woman’s trust. She opened the special compartment of her purse and produced the. 38.
Andrea nodded. “Okay. Put it back. Now put the purse on the end table and leave it there.”
