He didn’t want to leap to conclusions. This guy was not necessarily a pro. Even if he was, there were plenty of people inside and outside this building. Will was not by default the target of surveillance. In fact, a nondescript guy in a nondescript car was not by default conducting surveillance, even if he was holding a pair of binoculars. He could be another tourist, a location scout, a jealous boyfriend.
If he could get a look at the car’s license plates—
In the midst of this thought, the driver of the Honda Accord pulled away from the curb and merged into the flow of late morning traffic.
The meeting with Webster Fidelity’s department heads was followed by another, briefer but equally dull meeting with an alphabet soup of top-tier executives, which was followed by lunch with Todd Kohl, head of security.
And if all that wasn’t enough of a recipe for indigestion, all Will had heard from Taylor since he’d left for Ashe’s Carpinteria beach house that morning were a couple of cryptic messages promising to keep Will updated. Updates promising updates were not actually updates, in case MacAllister didn’t know it.
Anyway, Kohl’s ego had taken a bruising over the hiring of American Eagle. Webster Fidelity did not have an actual Chief Security Officer—that role would be taken on at least temporarily by American Eagle—and Will spent a fair bit of time and money on a nice lunch and a lot of schmoozing.
Midway through the meal he realized there were going to be a lot of lunches like this in his future, and nearly lost his appetite.
Kohl was never going to be their ally, but not having him as an enemy would be a good thing. Will wasn’t sure he had achieved that objective by the time he and Kohl walked out of Nick and Stef’s Steakhouse, but détente had to start somewhere.
By four o’clock he was on the freeway headed back to Ventura, trying to decide whether to phone Taylor or not—and feeling aggravated over his uncertainty—when he noticed a silver Honda Accord lurking several cars back.
“Are you for real?” Will muttered, eyes on his rearview mirror.
He amused himself for a few miles by speeding up and slowing down, and each time, the Honda surged forward or fell back, always preserving a safe distance behind a wall of cars that made it impossible to make out the driver or license plates. Of course, it was always possible this manoeuvring was not maneuvering at all, was merely coincidence, but that was not very likely.
Will considered getting off the freeway and then getting back on just to be sure he wasn’t letting his imagination run away with him, but if he did, the tail would almost certainly know he had been made, and Will would lose whatever element of surprise he had.
Assuming he had any.
He thought it over and then, instead of phoning Taylor, phoned Stuart Schwierskott.
A few weeks earlier, Schwierskott & Associate, a Southland private investigation company, had been hired to conduct surveillance on him and Taylor. Schwierskott had followed them to Oregon, though Taylor had made him almost immediately.
In return for their keeping quiet about his botching the job, Schwierskott had told them everything he knew about who had hired him, which turned out to be pretty much nada because Schwierskott & Associate had been hired by a third party, Gently, Fallis & Landreth, a legal firm better known for their schlocky TV ads than their ethics.
Will had tried to get someone from Gently, Fallis & Landreth to roll over on their client, but with no luck. It just wasn’t as easy to get results without the weight of the federal government behind them.
Besides, as the weeks passed with no further threat manifesting—not even signs of continued surveillance—he and Taylor had been inclined to dismiss the incident as a case of mistaken identity.
It wasn’t like they didn’t have plenty of other things vying for their attention.
Anyway, Schwierskott, the associate in Schwierskott & Associate, owed them for not letting his old man know he’d faked most, if not all, of his surveillance reports, and Will decided to call in that marker.
“Schwierskott,” said the voice on the other end.
“Hey, Stuart, remember me? Will Brandt?”
“Brandt?” Schwierskott’s voice shot up an octave. “What are you calling me here for?”
“I don’t have your home number.”
“My…” Schwierskott’s breathing sounded like someone starting to hyperventilate. “Why are you calling me at all? I thought we had an agreement!”
“We do,” Will assured him. “So long as you continue to cooperate.”
“Cooperate how? Continued cooperation wasn’t the agreement.”
“It is now. Who at S&A is currently handling the surveillance on us?”
Schwierskott gulped audibly. “No one!”
“Eh’nt!”
“W-w-what was that?”
“That was the Wrong Answer buzzer,” Will said. “Try again.”
“It’s true,” protested Schwierskott.
“Stuart, I hate to threaten a forty-year-old man with telling his father on him—”
“I told you the truth. They yanked the account from us.”
“Who did?” Will asked.
“Gently, Fallis & Landreth. They cancelled their contract about a week ago. They were upset about what they called our lack of results.”
Will considered this grimly, watching the Honda Accord speed up to match his unconscious acceleration. Usually it was MacAllister who didn’t trust coincidences. In Will’s experience, coincidence happened. But really, what were the odds here?
“Who’s the contact person over at Gently, Fallis & Landreth?”
Schwierskott said indignantly, “How should I know? I never dealt with them. That’s front-office stuff.”
“Wait a minute,” Will said. “You’re telling me you got back from Oregon and you didn’t have any curiosity about what was actually going on? And you call yourself a PI?”
“Uh, I call myself a private investigator,” Schwierskott said huffily. “And maybe I’m not comfortable sharing that information with you.”
“I don’t know why not. I don’t care what you call yourself.”
“Hardy har har.”
“Look, Stuart,” Will said, “I’m asking for a favor. Professional courtesy, remember? There’s something hinky going on here, and by now you must know that yourself.”
Schwierskott was silent.
“If they’re no longer your client—”
“Dina Shey,” Schwierskott answered abruptly. “She’s who you want
