Michael Prescott: Mortal Faults

“You do realize I’m not a bodyguard?”

“I’m not looking for a bodyguard. I’m looking for someone to assess a specific threat.”

“In that case, you came to the right gal.”

“I hear you’re quite good at what you do. Of course, I guess you don’t advertise your failures.” This was added with a smile.

“I don’t advertise at all,” Abby answered mildly. “I keep a low profile.”

“You run a one-woman operation-no staff, no overhead?”

“That’s right.”

“But you still charge like you have overhead, don’t you?” Another smile.

“I don’t work for free. But there are easier ways to earn a living.”

“How long have you been at this?”

“Eight years.”

“Background in law enforcement?”

“You mean, did I get canned because I was a cop who didn’t play by the rules? No. I’ve never worn a badge. My background is in psychology. I have a master’s degree.”

“You’re a shrink?”

“I’m not licensed. It’s just my academic training.”

“How did somebody start off in psychology and end up being a…?”

“A personal security consultant? I thought it would be more interesting than sitting in an office all day listening to people’s phobias. I wanted to do fieldwork.”

“Psychological fieldwork.”

“That’s what my job consists of, basically.”

He grunted, taking this in. “Have you always worked freelance?”

“Yes. I used to consult to security firms. I was an off-the-books contractor. Now I work for clients directly. No middleman.”

“You come highly recommended-though I probably shouldn’t mention any names.”

“It’s best to keep my clients’ names out of this. The work I do is confidential.”

“So I can count on you not to talk about what you’re doing for me?”

“I haven’t agreed to do anything for you yet. But yes, you can count on my silence. If I ever started blabbing about my clients, I’d be out of business in a hurry.”

“A woman who knows how to keep her mouth shut.” Reynolds grinned. “You may be unique.”

His charm, if such it was, wasn’t working on her. “I like to think of myself as discreet.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I thought you’d be younger.”

“How could any woman possibly take that the wrong way?”

He didn’t seem to notice her sarcasm. “Well, I guess it’s good you’ve got some miles on you. I’m paying for experience.”

“I have plenty of experience.”

“I’ll bet you have.” He said it with a peculiar emphasis. “How many jobs have you done?”

“I stopped counting. Roughly a hundred.”

“A hundred cases in eight years? You’re a busy little beaver, aren’t you?”

She wasn’t sure she liked the “beaver” reference. “I stay active.”

“These bad guys you deal with-you have to cozy up to them, right? And sometimes do more than get cozy?”

Now she grasped the subtext. She was no better than a hooker in his eyes. “I try to remain in control of the situation,” she said. He could ask Leon Trotman about that.

“Anyway, I’m told you’re the go-to gal when there’s a dirty job to be done.”

“How flattering.”

“Don’t misunderstand. The service you perform-it’s necessary. Not always pleasant, but that’s life. a lit of people don’t have the stomach to do what needs to be done. They’re wishful thinkers, romantics. You and I-we’re realists. We know how the world works.”

She disliked being included in his company. “What can I do for you, Mr. Reynolds?”

“I’m running for reelection. I’ve been doing a number of campaign appearances locally. A particular woman has attended nearly all of them. She stays toward the back of the crowd.”

Abby shrugged. “Political supporter. Stringer for a local newspaper.”

“I don’t think she’s either of those things. I think she’s someone who was formerly in my employ.”

“You recognized her?”

“I’m not sure. It’s been years. And her hair is different. It could be a wig. At the outdoor events she wears sunglasses. What I’m saying is, it’s hard to tell.”

“But there’s a resemblance to someone in your past.”

“Yes.”

“When did you start seeing this woman in the crowd?”

“Three, four weeks ago. I began coming home on weekends to do campaign events. Fundraisers, rallies, town hall meetings. At the ones that are open to the public, she’s almost always there.”

“And does this ex-employee hold a grudge against you?”

“She may.”

“Why?”

“The obvious reason. I terminated her employment. She was unhappy about that.”

“What sort of employment?”

“She was our housekeeper. This was ten years ago. Back when my kids were still growing up.”

Abby had seen the kids on the Web site-two of them, Jake and Janet, in their early twenties now. A decade ago they would have been about twelve years old. “Why’d you fire her?” she asked.

“She was stealing. In my bureau, I kept a spare roll of twenties. I would count the roll and find forty or sixty dollars missing. At first I thought I’d miscounted, but it kept happening.”

“Did you actually catch her stealing?”

“No. And she denied it. Hell, maybe she was even telling the truth. You see, not long after she left, I had some trouble with Jake.”

“You think your son was stealing the money?”

“I don’t know. He got into some scrapes-shoplifting, vandalism-and it occurred to me that maybe I’d been wrong to blame Rose. It was too late then, of course.”

“Rose was the housekeeper.”

“Rose Moran, yes.”

Abby got up and moved around the office. She had a hard time sitting still in client interviews. “It seems like a long time to hold a grudge. Even if she was falsely accused, she would’ve acted out whatever hostility she’s feeling long before this.”

“So you think it’s nothing?”

“Didn’t say that. I don’t really know what to think.” She quit pacing and faced him. “Mr. Reynolds, let me explain exactly what I do.”

Her standard sales pitch was cut off by Reynolds’ upraised hand. “I already know. You stalk the stalkers. That’s the way you explain it, right?”

She was surprised. “The very words.”

“You identify a stalker, then arrange to bump into him, get to know him. Assess the threat potential.”

“You even know the lingo. I’m impressed.”

“But I’m not clear on how you arrange to infiltrate their lives. Aren’t these people paranoid? Aren’t they suspicious of strangers?”

“Most of them are. But there are ways of getting around that. Ways of making the meeting seem accidental so they don’t suspect a setup. You know how Hollywood is always looking for a cute-meet situation? They should come to me. I know a million cute-meets.”

“Well, I guess it’s not too tough for you to meet a guy-when it is a guy. You just shake your moneymaker in his direction, and he comes to mama. But in this case it’s a woman. Might be more of a challenge.”

“I like a challenge,” Abby said evenly.

“Okay. I’ll have to assume you can handle it.” Abby thought this was big of him. “So if you determine that the individual poses a threat, you…?”

“I make sure he-or she-is taken off the streets.”

“You handle these situations without any violence?”

“Most of the time.”

“And the rest of time?”

“I know a little about self-defense. If push comes to shove-I can shove hard.”

“Kick ass and take names?”

“I don’t take names.”

Reynolds was studying her with narrowed eyes. “You’re not that big, though. Some of these guys must have a hundred pounds on you.”