Page 15 of The Agent
Tully huffed out a breath. “I hate smart perps.” Unfortunately, many stalkers were of above-average intelligence. It made them that much harder to capture. “Thanks for letting me steal time from your day off.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Leland sounded annoyed. “I’ll keep working on the last email. Maybe he slipped up somehow.”
“I appreciate it.” Tully disconnected and smacked the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. “Damn!”
Back to basics, then. Currently, his money was on the ex-husband, who sounded like a rat bastard. The puppeteer wouldn’t want to give up control of his precious puppet. Even though it had been a while, Natalie’s ex might suddenly feel the need to pull her strings again. Tully would get his best investigator to dig deeply into what Stevens’s personal and financial life looked like right now. Also if the guy knew anything about computers.
The ex-wives’ club was more complicated and less probable, in his opinion. The divorced husbands were more likely to stalk their former wives than the woman who gave them a temporary sanctuary, especially an anonymous one. He supposed it was possible that the ex-husbands might stalk both their former wivesandNatalie. He would check into any reports of stalking filed with the police.
He would also give the police chief of Cofferwood a call, just to reinforce Natalie’s report.
Finally, he needed to get his own reactions to Natalie under control. He’d gone too far when he’d told her she was desirable, even though it was true and pertinent to the situation. She’d vividly demonstrated to him—he winced at the memory—that she had ways to shut down a conversation before she needed to say no.
Yet he could have sworn she’d felt the pull between them too. He was pretty damn good at reading body language, partly from training and partly from natural ability. So he trusted his instincts. But she wasn’t acting on it, so he needed to let it go. He just wished regret didn’t twist in his chest quite so hard.
That scumbag Stevens had probably soured her on men permanently.
“Or maybe she just doesn’t like you as much as you think,” he said to his reflection in the rearview mirror. “So try not to be an asshole about it.”
Chapter 6
A tall red-haired woman wearing a navy blazer over a simple white blouse and jeans looked into the camera at Natalie’s front door. “I’m here to take a look at the toilet you’re having a problem with.”
Natalie had to suppress a giggle before she read from the script, “I didn’t expect you to come on a Sunday.”
The woman said her next line in such a normal tone that Natalie’s giggle escaped as she pulled open the door. The woman looked surprised.
“I’m sorry, but you don’t look anything like a plumber,” Natalie said, struggling to stifle her laughter as she waved the woman inside. It was partly nerves and partly relief that had her chuckling. “I guess you know I’m Natalie.” She held out her hand.
“Pam Santos.” The woman gave her a firm handshake and then grinned. “Okay, I think Tully’s plumber routine is kind of funny too.”
“Would you like me to show you where you’ll be staying?” Natalie asked, eyeing the leather duffel bag Pam held in her left hand.
“First, I’d like to familiarize myself with the layout of your house.” Pam set the duffel down at the foot of the stairs, the movement tightening her blazer so it outlined the shape of the gun she had in a holster underneath it.
“Of course.” Anyone Tully sent would take the job seriously. However, it freaked her out a little that Pam was wearing a gun. Her stalker had done nothing more than send some vaguely sinister messages.
As Natalie led Pam through the house, the bodyguard checked windows, doors, and closets with the same thoroughness Tully had shown the night before. She also moved with the same noiseless footsteps, despite sporting black boots with low square heels. Evidently, stealth—even with boots on—was a job requirement.
“I looked around outside before I rang the bell,” Pam said as they walked back into the living room. “There’s a lot of vegetation. I’m going to talk to the boss about installing cameras.”
Natalie interpreted that to mean the stalker could easily hide among the trees and shrubs. “Thank you,” she said before she glanced at her watch to find it was a little after five. “Would you like coffee? Or beer or wine? Or a Manhattan?” She needed one of the latter.
“I’m on duty, so coffee would be great,” Pam said. “Black, please.”
As Natalie started the coffee, Pam strolled back to the sliders Tully had disapproved of and stared through them with a frown. The low-slanting sun turned her beautiful red hair to flame, and Natalie’s fingers itched to give it a cut that would suit Pam’s slightly square face better than the low ponytail it was pulled into.
“Have you dealt with stalkers before?” Natalie asked.
Pam shook her head. “Just studied cases about them. They can be pretty twisted.”
“Twisted?” A shiver ran down Natalie’s spine as she poured a mug of coffee.
“Mentally,” Pam said. “They tell themselves a lot of lies, like that their victim loves them but doesn’t realize it yet.” She took the coffee with a smile of thanks. “It’s a strange mindset.”
“But most are not violent.” Natalie went back to the kitchen to mix herself that Manhattan.
“Most, but better safe than sorry,” Pam said. “That’s every bodyguard’s motto.”
