The Shadow Hunter

secrets.
    “Buy you a drink?”
    She looked up. It was Wyatt, off duty, in street clothes. He slid onto the stool next to hers and ordered a beer.
    “This is the second time you’ve encountered me here,” Abby said with a slow smile. “You’re not stalking me, are you?”
    “If I were, I’d expect you to know it. You’re the expert.”
    “I used to think so,” Abby said, remembering the photos on the disk.
    Wyatt’s beer arrived. They passed a few minutes sipping their drinks, not speaking.
    “Truth is,” Wyatt said eventually, “I’ve been hanging out here a little more than usual. Hoping I might run into you.”
    “It worked—just as long as you weren’t followed.”
    “I wasn’t.” He swiveled on his stool to face her. “So how are you doing, Abby?”
    “Never better.”
    “Not sure I believe that.”
    “Well, I’m alive and fully functional. How are things with you?”
    “No complaints.”
    “And no heat from your friend Cahill or anyone else?”
    “Zero heat. There’s no reason for anybody to link the Hickle case to Emanuel Barth. And no reason anybody would link me to you.”
    “Unless somebody at Hollywood Station remembers that I paid you a visit a few hours before the excitement started.”
    “Nobody remembers. Hollywood’s a busy place. People come and go. So we’re okay, Abby. The case is closed. It’s over.”
    “It’s over,” Abby echoed. The words felt good to say.
    Wyatt looked away. “I understand how you wanted to keep things out of official channels, but I wish you’d confided in me. When you came to see me at the station, you already suspected Travis, didn’t you?”
    “Yes.”
    “You should have said something.”
    “I wanted to handle things myself.”
    “Yeah.”
    “Typical of me. Right?”
    “You said it. I didn’t.” He tipped the beer mug from side to side, sloshing the foam in the glass. “You know, I’d like to keep seeing you.”
    “Absolutely. You’re my main resource in Hollywood. I depend on you.”
    “What I mean is—not on business.”
    “Oh.” Abby was quiet for a moment, staring into the mirror behind the bar, where her face gazed back at her, calm and contemplative. “I don’t know, Vic.”
    He studied her, his expression showing more bewilderment than hurt. “We get along pretty well, and you wouldn’t have to keep any secrets from me, so…why not?”
    “Maybe because of what you just said—I can’t keep secrets from you. See, I don’t like to be with people who know me too well. I like staying hidden. I like having my space. It’s been like that for me since I was a kid. I keep my distance, always.”
    “That’s no way to live, Abby.”
    “But it’s a way to survive.”
    He let his hand rest gently on hers. “I won’t pressure you. If you change your mind, call me. Think it over, okay?”
    “I will. I promise.”
    They parted a short time later. Abby was first to leave the bar. When she looked back from the doorway, she saw Wyatt sitting alone at the bar.
    The sun was setting when she returned to her condo. On her balcony she watched the red glaze of the sky. She remembered sitting with her father before another sunset, years ago, and asking if her aloneness, her need for solitude, was a good thing. He’d said it would be, if she could make it work in her favor. His words were like a riddle she had never solved.
    Call me
, Wyatt had said. She wondered if she would.
    In the living room, her phone rang. She left the balcony to answer it. For some reason she expected to hear Wyatt’s voice, but it was Gil Harris on the line—the New Jersey security consultant who’d brought her in on the Frank Harrington case. “Abby, how you doing?”
    “Fine, Gil. I’m great.” She carried the cordless phone back onto the balcony.
    “I take it you’ve recovered from your latest run-in with a crazy man,” Gil was saying.
    She wondered how he could know about Hickle, then realized he was referring to Harrington. “Sure,” she said easily. “It’s amazing what ten days of rest and relaxation will do for you.”
    “Well, I hope you’ve had enough vacation time, because I’ve got something that’s definitely up your alley. Interested?”
    She hesitated only a moment. “When do you need me?”
    “Soon as possible.”
    “I’ll catch a flight first thing tomorrow, be at your office by late afternoon. Deal?”
    “Works for me. Oh, and I should warn you—this one could be kind of tricky.”
    “They’re all