The Shadow Hunter

Travis expelled a breath. “How could he get that close? The Reserve has tight security. Perimeter fencing, a gatehouse manned by two guards, and two more guards in constant patrol.”
    “Have you checked the fence for signs of egress?”
    “Sure. That was one of the first things we did. The fence is heavy-gauge steel wire topped with razor-wire coils.”
    “Wire can be cut.”
    “We didn’t find any gaps.”
    “Have your people checked recently?”
    “Daily.” He moved away from the window, circling the room.
    Her gaze followed the sweep of his reflection on the long table’s glossy surface. “You’d better have them look again, more closely,” she said. “Is there any other way into the compound?”
    “The gate, but it’s always guarded.”
    “How carefully do they screen delivery trucks, visitors, repairmen?”
    “Most of the Reserve’s security officers are retired cops. They’re pretty sharp. And they’ve got Hickle’s photo posted inside the guardhouse. I don’t think he could get by them.”
    “What about the beach? It can’t be completely sealed off. Below the high tide mark it’s public property, like all California beaches.”
    “True. There’s a fence at the boundary, but it doesn’t go far into the water, and anybody could step around it. But we’ve covered that angle too. We installed a hidden camera that feeds a live image of the beach access point to the Barwoods’ guest cottage. The agents stationed there monitor the video at all times.”
    “Unless they screwed up, got careless.”
    “Once, maybe. Not three times.”
    “Well, however he did it, Hickle found a way in, and he can do it again. Next time he may bring a gun instead of a camera, and then…”
    Travis looked away. “Devin Corbal, part two.”
    Abby winced. “That’s not how I would put it.”
    “Sorry. You know what I mean.”
    “Yes. I know.”
    The air-conditioning system hummed, and somewhere far below, a siren fluttered past. Abby wondered if she ought to mention the other significant development of the past twenty-four hours—the attack that had nearly taken her life last night.
    She decided not to. She had no idea how to make sense of that incident, no idea if it even tied into the Barwood case. And she didn’t want Travis second-guessing his decision to bring her in. She didn’t want him to think she was in over her head…so to speak.
    “It won’t end up like the Corbal case,” she said quietly. “I won’t let it.”
    “I wasn’t trying to imply…” His words trailed off.
    She finished for him. “That I was responsible for what happened to Corbal?”
    “You weren’t, Abby.”
    “Maybe not. But the fact remains that he’s dead, and you’re meeting every day with your CFO to figure out how to keep this company running with a skeleton crew, and sometimes it sure as hell feels like it was my fault.”
    “I told you before, you’re too hard on yourself. Look, forget I ever mentioned Corbal, all right?”
    “Sure. Forgotten.” But she knew it wasn’t and couldn’t be.
    “Anything more to tell me?”
    “Lots, but it’ll have to wait.” She hopped off the table and slung her handbag over her shoulder. “You’d better resume number crunching, and I have to get back to Hollywood. I have a big night planned.”
    “Do you?”
    Abby nodded. “Hickle doesn’t know it yet, but he’s taking me out on a date.”

15
    Wyatt knew he ought to stop thinking about her. It was stupid, the way he couldn’t get her out of his head. He wasn’t the type to lose control over a woman. It wasn’t like he was desperate or anything. He’d never had trouble with the opposite sex. In high school and college he’d played football, and he could vouch that everything ever whispered or imagined about the private lives of cheerleaders was true. He hadn’t done too shabbily as a cop either. That cliché about how women preferred a guy in uniform—he had verified it. Repeatedly.
    All in all, there was absolutely no reason for him to be tooling down Wilshire Boulevard at four thirty in the afternoon on his way to Abby’s condo.
    Probably she wouldn’t be home. Most people were at their place of employment during the day. They didn’t get stuck on the night watch, working from 6 P.M. to 2 A.M. —his current schedule from Thursday through Monday. Still, he had a feeling Abby didn’t keep regular hours, and he wasn’t sure she had a place of employment to go to.
    He parked his Camaro on a