The Shadow Hunter

taker, dishwasher at a coffee shop, clerk in a photo store, janitor in an office high-rise.”
    “Common denominator—not much thinking required. You learn the basics, then go through the motions. If you’re elevated to supervisor, you have to start thinking.”
    “I don’t believe this guy’s dumb.”
    “Didn’t say he was. I’m saying he wants to leave his mind free to think about something other than his job. Something like Kris Barwood, LA’s number-one news anchor…and Hickle’s one true love.”
    “And the one client TPS absolutely cannot afford to lose.”
    “Really? Why?”
    “Because right now she’s the only media person we’ve got on our side. Channel Eight hasn’t joined the feeding frenzy. She won’t let them. She keeps saying the firm has gotten a bum rap. She’s said it publicly. If she ditches us, we’re cooked.”
    Abby caught on. “On the other hand, if TPS resolves the situation without incident, and Channel Eight plays it up big…”
    “It would go a long way toward rebuilding our client list. Yes.” He frowned, as if embarrassed to have been drawn out on this subject.
    “So give me more details, get me up to speed.”
    “Hickle started sending Kris personal letters about five months ago. Our screening process intercepted them. At first they raised no alarm. They were fan letters, nothing special.”
    “Signed?”
    “Yes. He’s always signed his name. Even included a snapshot of himself, like something you’d submit to a dating service. He’s never tried to hide who he is.”
    “Which doesn’t make him any less dangerous.” Abby knew that people who stalked celebrities rarely concerned themselveswith anonymity. On the contrary, they wanted their famous target to know exactly who they were. And if the time came for a violent attack, they wanted the whole world to know.
    “He kept requesting a photo,” Travis said, “so we allowed KPTI to send him a color glossy of Kris with a fake autograph, but no inscription. We didn’t want to encourage him with anything he might interpret as a personal response.”
    “Okay.” All standard, so far.
    “Unfortunately, he didn’t go away, as we hoped. Instead, he started writing longer, more in-depth letters, the kind of thing you would send to an intimate friend. They got pretty intense. He sent gifts too.”
    “What sort of gifts?”
    “Jewelry, mostly. Cheap costume stuff. Once he gave her some scented candles, because he’d read that she practices aromatherapy.”
    “What’s his history? Any violence?”
    “No.”
    “Ever institutionalized?”
    “No.”
    “Arrests? Police encounters?”
    “Can’t rule out a run-in with the law, but there’s no record of any formal charges against him.”
    Abby nodded. Early in life, stalkers learned how to hate, but unlike common criminals, they learned self-restraint also. They held their hatred in check. Few of the dangerous ones, the ones with the mind-set of an assassin, got in trouble with the police. They were too cold and careful for that. They bided their time.
    “He stopped writing three weeks ago,” Travis said, “but he still calls her.”
    “He’s got her number…” She’d meant it to be a question, but she wasn’t really surprised.
    Travis nodded. “Home and business, even though they’re unlisted. At first we weren’t screening her calls, so he actually gotthrough to her. She made the mistake of trying to talk to him. Of course, this only aggravated the situation.”
    “Sure. Contact is what he wants.”
    “I explained that to her. And I had her install a second unlisted line at home and screen all calls that came in over the first line with an answering machine, but it didn’t work. Somehow he guessed she had a new line and got that number too.”
    “Persistent little creep.”
    “And clever.” Travis turned onto Westwood Boulevard, heading north. “Kris asked him how he got hold of her address, and he told her. He searched the Internet for her husband’s name—Howard Barwood—and found the California Coastal Commission agenda for April of 1999. They post the minutes of all their meetings on the web. One of the topics discussed in April was a request by Howard Barwood of Malibu to attach a guest cottage to the garage. His address was reported in the application summary.”
    Abby sighed. No information was private any longer. “Was the application approved?”
    “Sure was. In fact, that guest cottage has come in handy. We set up our