Read The Shadow Hunter for Free Online

thing you would send to an intimate friend. They got pretty intense. He sent gifts too.”
    “What sort of gifts?”
    “Jewelry, mostly. Cheap costume stuff. Once he gave her some scented candles because he’d read that she practices aroma therapy
    “What’s his history? Any violence?”
    “No.”
    “Ever institutionalized?”
    “No.”
    “Arrests? Police encounters?”
    “Can’t rule out a run-in with the law, but there’s no record of any formal charges against him.”
    Abby nodded. Early in life, stalkers learned how to hate, but unlike common criminals, they learned self restraint also. They held their hatred in check. Few of the dangerous ones, the ones with the mind-set of an assassin, got in trouble with the police. They were too cold and careful for that. They bided their time.
    “He stopped writing three weeks ago,” Travis said, “but he still calls her.”
    “He’s got her number…” She’d meant it to be a question, but she wasn’t really surprised.
    Travis nodded.
    “Home and business, even though they’re unlisted. At first we weren’t screening her calls, so he actually got through to her. She made the mistake of trying to talk to him. Of course this only aggravated the situation.”
    “Sure. Contact is what he wants.”
    “I explained that to her. And I had her install a second unlisted line at home and screen all calls that came in over the first line with an answering machine, but it didn’t work. Somehow he guessed she had a new line and got that number too.”
    “Persistent little creep.”
    “And clever.” Travis turned onto Westwood Boulevard, heading north.
    “Kris asked him how he got hold of her address, and he told her. He searched the Internet for her husband’s name—Howard Barwood—and found the California Coastal Commission agenda for April of 1999. They post the minutes of all their meetings on the Web. One of the topics discussed in April was a request by Howard Barwood of Malibu to attach a guest cottage to the garage. His address was reported in the application summary.”
    Abby sighed. No information was private any longer.
    “Was the application approved?”
    “Sure was. In fact, that guest cottage has come in handy. We set up our on-site command post there.”
    “How often does Hickle call?”
    “Six times a day, on average.”
    “Has he tried to make physical contact?”
    “Repeatedly. We’re lucky in one way. Kris lives in Malibu Reserve.
    She moved there for additional security a few years ago, a normal precaution for someone in her position. The Reserve is a pretty tight ship.
    Hickle has never gotten past the guards at the entrance.
    Same story at work. KPTI is fenced and gated, and the guards have seen Hickle’s photo.”
    “He’s attempted entry at both her home and the studio?
    How many attempts in all?”
    “More than two dozen.”
    “Escalating frequency?”
    “Yes.”
    “Bad.”
    At Wilshire Boulevard, Travis turned east. The wide, busy street was colonnaded on both sides by high-rise condominium buildings and a few office towers. Abby lived midway along the corridor.
    “You mentioned that Kris Barwood still supports you,” Abby said as her building approached.
    “How did she feel right after the Corbal incident?”
    “Scared, upset. Even though she had been with TPS for years, she nearly left us. Howard was ready to tear up the contract, but Kris had the final say. I talked her out of it.”
    “And now she’s your biggest cheerleader. That must have been one hell of a pep talk.”
    “Let’s say I can be persuasive when I have to be.”
    The Mercedes pulled into the curved driveway in the forecourt of Abby’s condominium tower, the Wilshire Royal.
    “Want to come up?” Abby asked, keeping her tone casual.
    Travis hesitated.
    “I’d better say no. I’ve got a lot on my plate today.”
    “Yeah, I guess I’ve got my work cut out for me too.”
    She was good at concealing disappointment.
    They got out of the car, and