Mortal Faults (14 page)

21

The briefing was held in the squad room at eight thirty p.m. after three hours at Andrea Lowry’s house, during which time Tess had told her story and Andrea had told hers, and nobody, it seemed, had poked any holes in either narrative. Outside the house, the media gathered like sharks scenting blood—first one mobile news unit cruising up to the yellow ribbon at the crime-scene perimeter, then a second and third, until all of L.A.’s major TV stations were represented, along with two news radio stations, the
L.A. Times
, and the
L.A. Daily News
. Eventually a police officer placated the journalists with a hurried outdoor news conference in which he described the attack as a random home invasion foiled by an armed householder. The presence of the FBI at the scene went unmentioned, and no one among the reporters noticed it.

All of that, along with the work of a team of criminalists who tagged and tagged every spent shell and recoverable bullet, was now over, and Hauser’s squad, minus six members who remained in Andrea’s neighborhood, had reassembled in the bullpen on the seventeenth floor of the federal building, where Hauser was sketching out a geometrical diagram on a whiteboard.

“We’re kicking this operation into higher gear,” he said briskly. “From here on, it’s a three-pronged strategy. I’ve broken it out in boxes.” He tapped the board. “First, surveillance. Whitley and Conklin are in the house next door. Davis and Palumbo are parked down the street in an undercover van. Rice and Bowles have separate posts in other vehicles. I doubt the subject is going anywhere tonight, but as of tomorrow we’ll have a minimum of three additional vehicles in the vicinity, ready to conduct clandestine mobile surveillance whenever she goes out. From now on, she never leaves our sight. I want to know where she is at all times, and who she’s talking to, if anyone. Only agents who were not at the crime scene are eligible for surveillance duty. If you were there, she probably got a look at you, which means she may be able to ID you. We do not want her aware of our interest.”

Surveillance wasn’t limited to visual contact. During the search of Andrea’s house, a technical agent had bugged her phone and planted a miniature camera in the living room. The transmitters’ signals would reach the house next door, where the closest surveillance agents were stationed. It was all legal, the warrant obtained telephonically earlier that day.

“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.

22

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?”

“Well, yes.”

Abby had finished her steak. She pushed a hunk of cornbread around the plate, mopping up the juice. “I’m guessing it was being watched already, or you wouldn’t have made your deus ex machina arrival. What was the lookout?”

“House next door.”

“The one that’s boarded up?”

Tess nodded. “It’s abandoned. The Bureau commandeered it early this morning.”

“When did you join the stakeout detail?”

“Midafternoon.”

“So you saw me walk up to Andrea’s door?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t FBI agents usually work in pairs?”

Tess saw where she was going. “I have a partner, but luckily for you, I had the eye at the time.”

“Had the eye? What is that, a magic amulet?”

“It’s an expression. It means I was watching. We trade off so we don’t get tired. It’s standard procedure.”

“So what was your partner doing while you had the eye?”

Crandall had been using the bathroom, but somehow Tess didn’t want to say that. It sounded unprofessional, and there was the Bureau’s reputation to consider. “Raiding the fridge.”

“You even stocked the fridge? Ritzy. You didn’t tell him you’d seen someone enter the house?”

“It didn’t come up.”

“And how would you have explained it when I walked out?”

“I figured I’d keep watching until you were gone. I was doing most of the work, anyway. He was keeping his distance.”

“Slacker, huh?”

“He’s just a little unhappy with me.” This, Tess thought, was putting it mildly. “He has a right to be.”

“So it’s your fault if your partner doesn’t pull his weight? Seriously, Tess, those nuns in parochial school did a number on you.”

“Let’s keep my educational background out of this,” Tess said.

“Whatever. Where was this antisocial partner of yours while you were inside Andrea’s house?”

“In the backyard, securing the scene.”

“That’s not so good. He should have been backing you up when you went housecleaning.”

“Of course he should have. But I couldn’t afford to let him see you. I told him to wait in the yard in case any more suspects tried to flee out the back. And I got thoroughly chewed out for it during the shooting review, by the way.”

Abby shrugged. Clearly she didn’t care about the shooting review. She didn’t appear to care about Tess at all. She hadn’t asked if the shootout in the backyard had put her in any danger. The issue apparently hadn’t occurred to her.

That was a bad sign. Abby was normally somewhat self-absorbed, but not to the point of indifference when a colleague had placed herself at risk.

“So this guy didn’t see me when I went out through the carport?” Abby asked.

“That’s right.”

“He’s Sergeant Schultz, then?”

“What?”

“Your partner. He knows nothing.”

Tess just barely got the reference. She had always been clueless when it came to popular culture. “As far as he’s concerned, Andrea acted alone.”

“Like Oswald. Cool. So are you going to tell me a bedtime story or not? I want to hear the one that begins, ‘Once upon a time there was a lovely but psychologically unstable princess named Bethany ...’”

Tess sighed. “I’ll tell you. But I may regret it.”

“Think positive. You’re positively going to regret it.” Abby grinned, but it was a false grin, like the leer of a mask. She was trying hard to sound casual, and not quite succeeding. Maybe it had something to do with the nervous energy that was quaking in every inch of her body. “By the way,” she added, “I’m assuming the three musketeers are still at large?”

“Your assailants? I’m afraid so.”

“Thanks for coming to my rescue.” The words were perfunctory, but Tess had been waiting for them.

“You’re welcome.”

“Not that I needed rescuing, of course. I already had the situation pretty well handled.”

“It didn’t look that way to me.”

Abby pushed her plate aside. “Hey, I scared those bad boys into running away.”

“They weren’t running, they were regrouping. Planning another assault.”

“I wish they’d tried it.”

“Do you?”

“They wouldn’t have outflanked me a second time. I would’ve had plenty of opportunities to treat them to a little street justice.”

“What does that mean?” Tess asked carefully.

“They’re garbage. You know what you do with garbage? You put it in bags. Nice heavy-duty bags, with zippers and everything.”

“Suppose you were the one who ended up in a bag.”

“It’s a risk I’d be willing to take.”

“That’s what worries me.” Tess leaned forward. “We’re supposed to be on the same side, Abby. The side of law and order.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

“Maybe you’re sorry I showed up. I robbed you of your vigilante moment.”

“I’ll have other moments.”

Tess stared at her. “What are you planning?”

“Who, me? A nice long soak in the tub, bottle of champagne, the soothing baritone of Jim Nabors on the CD player ...” The smile on her face said that she wasn’t even trying to be taken seriously.

“Let the Bureau take care of this,” Tess said. “It’s our case now.”

“Oh, right. You’re from the government, and you’re here to help. By the way, since when does a home invasion fall under federal jurisdiction?”

“This was no home invasion. It was an attempted hit.”

“Still not a federal crime.”

“It is when a federal agent is involved. I was shot at during the performance of my official duties.”

“Fair enough. Except you still haven’t told me why your official duties required you to be watching Andrea’s house in the first place. I mean, what’s the point? It’s not like you could tail her if she went for a drive. You’d need a minimum of three vehicles to do a tail job on a paranoid target in broad daylight, and there weren’t that many FBI agents around.”

“How do you know?”

“Because they would’ve come running, like you. So if you weren’t there to shadow the suspect ... Oh, I get it.”

“Do you?”

“You were waiting for her to leave. Not so you could follow her, but so you could break into her domicile and—what? Do a little illegal search?”

“We weren’t doing anything illegal.”

“Planting a bug, then. Or should I say, bugs. Plural. You wanted to know what was going on inside her house.”

“Yes.”

“Well, I suppose you got the opportunity to plant all the surveillance devices you wanted, once the house became a crime scene.”

“I let an agent from the tech support squad handle it. We had a warrant,” she added defensively.

“I’m sure you did. Kind of ironic, though, isn’t it? Andrea’s paranoid, thinks people are after her—and guess what? They are.”

“We’re not after her. We’re trying to protect her.”

“No,
I’m
trying to protect her. You’re trying to
convict
her.”

Tess bit back a sharp reply. “The truth is, we’re not sure what to make of her. Whether she’s a suspect or a victim.”

“Maybe a little of both,” Abby suggested.

“Maybe.”

“So fill in the blanks for me, girlfriend. What do you know that I don’t?”

“We can get into that.” Tess lowered her voice. “First I want to be reassured that you’re not going to do anything drastic.”

“Like what?”

“Like hunting down the intruders on your own.”

Abby gave her an unblinking doe-eyed stare. “Tess, I would never do a thing like that. Why, it sounds downright dangerous.”

“You’re failing to convince me.”

She dropped the act. “Okay, let’s say I’d like to track those assholes to their lair and give them what-for. How am I supposed to do it? All I know is they were three guys in ski masks and dark clothes. I’m guessing they’ve ditched the outfits by now, which leaves just three guys. Last time I looked, there were a lot more than three guys in the greater Los Angeles area.”