Michael Prescott - Mortal Faults

“So we have eyes and ears on Lowry. That’s our first avenue of investigation. Number two, we work the assault. Identify the assailants, learn who hired them. We’re guessing it was Reynolds, but he may be working through intermediaries. Maybe he has underworld contacts, either old friends of his from when he grew up or people he met while he was a D.A. Look into any possible connections between Reynolds and criminal elements, but be discreet. We don’t want him to know we’re on his tail. That leaves the third investigative avenue. We need to look deeper into MEDEA. We need to know what happened twenty years ago, how much of Andrea’s story is true.”

The meeting broke up, with Hauser reassigning Tess and Crandall to the assault case now that they were unsuitable for surveillance duty. “We’ve got the Santa Ana R.A. working it tonight,” he told them, meaning the FBI’s resident agency, a subsidiary branch of the regional field office. “Tomorrow you can see what they’ve turned up. For now, get some sleep.”

Tess couldn’t sleep, not yet. She had an appointment with Abby.

The Boiler Room was just as Tess remembered it, a not-quite-seedy diner with a retro look. She pushed past a trio of homeless people cadging coins under the neon sign, and stepped into the white Formica glare. Even the smell of cooking hamburgers was as she remembered. They smelled good, but she’d already eaten, and she had other things on her mind.

Scanning the room, she saw Abby in a booth. The booth had a view of the entrance, probably selected so Abby could see her enter. So far, however, she hadn’t noticed. Intent on the plate before her, she seemed oblivious of her environment.

Abby, oblivious? That wasn’t like her. She was always alert, ready for anything.

Tess approached the table. As she drew near, she saw that Abby had ordered a steak sandwich and was attacking it with what might be described as gusto. Savagery would be a better word. She carved the steak with furious energy, sawing it as if she wished to saw through the plate and the table.

Tess slid into the Naugahyde benchseat opposite Abby. Only then did Abby glance up.

“Hey,” Abby said. She speared a chunk of beef with her fork and swallowed the red bite.

“Hi, Abby. How are you doing?”

“Fine and dandy.”

“You seem a little… distracted.”

“Just thinking.”

“From the way you’re tearing up that steak, they aren’t pleasant thoughts.”

“Hasn’t been my best day.”

“At least it wasn’t your last one.” Tess couldn’t stop looking at the steak. “Aren’t you supposed to be a vegetarian?”

“I eat meat. Not a lot of it. But occasionally”-Abby stabbed another forkful of beef-“occasionally I’m in the mood for something bloody.”

“So I see. You, uh, you sure you’re okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“There are approximately a million reasons I can think of.”

“I’m fine.”

“You seem kind of… hyper. Like you’re on speed.”

“I’m always that way.”

“Tonight, even more so.”

Abby shot her a scowling glance. “I don’t do drugs.”

“I know, but-”

“Look, dammit, I’m fine, all right? I’m fine.”

Tess sat back and nodded slowly. “I assume you’re wondering what brought me back to L.A.”

“I’m guessing it was either the daily smog alerts, or my insouciant charm.”

“Try Andrea Lowry.”

“Not her real name.”

“I know. I looked into it for you and set off some sort of alarm bell in D.C. The case was active, but it was being kept secret. I don’t like being left in the dark.”

Abby grinned at her between bites. “But you also wanted to help me, at least a little.”

“Maybe a little.” Tess shrugged. “Very little.”

“I’ll take what I can get.”

A waitress drifted by the table, menu in hand. Tess waved her off. “Nothing for me, thanks.” The waitress shrugged and drifted on.

“Not hungry?” Abby asked.

“Ate at the office. Sometime during the fifth or sixth iteration of the shooting review.”

“Got it all cleared up, I hope.”

Tess shook her head. “It won’t be cleared up for a while. Gunfights aren’t common in the Bureau. They always draw intense interest from OPR.”

“If that’s anything like NPR, it would probably put me to sleep.”

“It’s the Office of Professional Responsibility-our equivalent of Internal Affairs. They’ll be on the case, or I should say on my case, for months.”

“Your actions were justified.”

“I know that. So do they. They’ll still have me jumping through hoops. I’ll be filing forms in triplicate, giving statements, and basically wasting as much of my time as they find necessary.”

“You see? There are advantages to being a vigilante.”

Tess gave her a sharp glance. “Is that what you are now?”

“Just making conversation. So you were interviewed and reinterviewed for hours on end.”

“Yes.”

“During which time you told them the whole story-with key omissions.”

“Yes.” Tess hadn’t liked lying, but it seemed she had no choice wherever Abby was concerned.

“How’d Andrea hold up?” Abby asked.

“She didn’t breathe a word about you. Actually she didn’t say much of anything at all.”

“Shell-shocked?”

“Possibly. But I also think she’s afraid of law enforcement.”

“She’s afraid of everything. Paranoid.”

“She has her reasons,” Tess said.

Abby looked at her. “You sound like you know what they are.”

“I’m on the case. I’ve been briefed.”

“Great. Spill.”

“I’m afraid I can’t.”

Abby carved off another slice of meat, consumed it, and set down her knife and fork. “Then let me tell you. Andrea Lowry used to be Bethany Willett. She killed her kids and got sent to the booby hatch. She was briefly famous. The press nicknamed her Medea. Now she’s out of the cuckoo’s nest and living under an assumed name and stalking a congressman. Only, she doesn’t call it stalking. She just feels drawn to him, she says. How am I doing so far?”

“Better than you have any right to be.”

“Andrea opened up to me. I have a way of getting people to do that.”

“Then it looks like you don’t need me at all.”

“Wrong-o. There are still some gaps to be filled in. Such as the exact nature of Congressman Reynolds’ connection with Andrea, and how the feds got involved. And why Reynolds would want Andrea dead.”

Tess put up a hand. “We don’t know that Reynolds had anything to do with the attack this afternoon.”

“No, I’m sure it was just a coincidence.”

“We’re not making any assumptions.”

“Well, I am. It was him. That guy’s a real son of a bitch, you know? I mean, even by the standards of a politician, and that’s saying something.”

“How can you be so certain it’s Reynolds?”

“Instinct.”

Tess was sure there was more to it, but she also knew that Abby wouldn’t share without getting something in return. “I suppose,” she said slowly, “if you know that much of the story, you should probably know the rest. Especially since Andrea would probably just tell you, anyway.”

“Yes, I think she would. We were getting along pretty well until the shooting started. The attempted assassination kind of put a damper on things. By the way, I’m assuming her gun was confiscated.”

“For the moment, yes. It’s needed for ballistics tests.”

“Leaving her defenseless.”

“She’s hardly defenseless. She-” Tess stopped herself.

“She’s being watched around the clock by the FBI. That’s what you were going to say, isn’t it?”