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“So what are we saying here?” Reggie asked.

“Nothing as yet,” Ingram replied.

“C’mon, Bobby, don’t turn coy. What’s going on?”

“One possibility is that Gwen concocted events last night to reinforce her claim against Tarbell.”

“I don’t know. Her statement sounded genuine to me,” Petersen said, hoping to inject an element of doubt. “Her answers sounded natural and unrehearsed.”

Ingram nodded in agreement.

“The one problem is that we can’t place Tarbell at the scene.” Gonzalez pointed at Petersen. “We’ve got you to thank for that.”

Don’t I know it
, Petersen thought.

“And you’re sure he didn’t duck out on you, Tom?” Reggie asked.

Petersen shook his
head. “I had a visual on him when I got the call. He was there.”

Reggie pointed at the recorder. “Like she says, we could be looking at an accomplice.”

“Nothing to back that up,” Ingram said. “I’m hoping Lorna can find us something.”

“If he’s got a partner, money will change hands at some point. If it does, I’ve got him,” Lorna said.

“OK, we’ve got Gwen gilding the lily, or a possible accomplice,” Reggie said. “Are we checking out the cleaning crew? What about B&E? We can’t rule it out. Maybe some douche bag broke in for the petty cash or computers but wasn’t expecting to find someone working late.”

“It’s possible but doubtful,” Gonzalez said. “The whole thing was too calculated. The guy got in and out without getting his face on any of the cameras. The average thief isn’t going to worry about that, especially if he’s caught in the act.”

“I don’t like that Gwen’s assailant never said a word,” Lorna said. “If she was concocting a story, she’d tell us Tarbell threatened to cut her into pieces and feed her to his dog. Telling us he never said a word doesn’t make sense. It lends itself to the accomplice theory. An accomplice can pretend to be Tarbell, but he can’t sound like him.”

Thank you, Lorna
, Petersen thought, as her remark brought a nod of approval from Ingram.

“Lorna, what has your research kicked up?” Ingram asked.

“Stephen Tarbell is a pretty clean-living guy. Good credit report. No real debt beyond a mortgage. No outstanding warrants. A couple of parking tickets. Never been married. No dependents. Mother deceased. No siblings. His invalid father lives out in West Sacramento. Tarbell’s been paying for caregivers for seven years.”

“I can vouch for that,” Reggie said. “He spends his Saturdays
with his dad. Looks as if it’s the caregiver’s day off.”

“All in all, the guy is a Boy Scout,” Lorna said.

“Except for a violent side,” Petersen tacked on.

“Do we know that?” Ingram asked. “Anger management issues for sure. Pace Pharmaceuticals provided documentary evidence supporting that.”

“It’s something that runs in the family,” Lorna said. “The only dirt I struck was a couple of domestic calls back in the day alleging Dennis Tarbell was a wife beater. No charges were ever brought.”

“What about you two?” Ingram asked. “You’re with him 24-7. Thoughts on Tarbell?”

“I’ve got nothing,” Reggie said. “He’s goes to work, works, and comes home. He’s a shut-in during the weekend.”

“Same story,” Petersen said.

Ingram sighed. “I thought this would be a simple case. At the moment, I’ve got nothing. I had the security video enhanced to see the hand gripping the trash enclosure the night Gwen was assaulted. It came back with nothing that gives us anything we can use. For all I could tell, it could have even been Gwen’s hand.”

“Obviously, there are doubts over the validity of Gwen’s claim. Why don’t we have her polygraphed? It’ll clear this up,” Petersen said.

Ingram shook his head. “I don’t want to go that route unless I have to, but I inserted Amanda Norton inside Pace Pharmaceuticals this morning. Her primary assignment is to watch Tarbell, but I’ve told her to watch Gwen, too. I’m going to suggest to Pace that we put a team on Gwen. If she is fabricating anything, they’ll catch it. Then I’ll push for a polygraph.”

“What’s your gut feel here, Bobby?” Reggie asked. “Was she really assaulted the first time or is this a case of bad blood gone worse and she’s playing the victim to oust Tarbell?”

Ingram took a long time
answering. “I don’t know. I believed her story originally, but now, I have to admit I have doubts. Pace didn’t want to bring in the cops, and she didn’t put up much of a fuss about it. I thought she was reluctant out of embarrassment, but now I’m wondering if it was because of what good police work might reveal.”

It killed Petersen to sit there watching the investigation’s tide turn against Gwen. Not only was Tarbell being given the benefit of the doubt, the focus of the team was turning to finding Gwen’s guilty. But it was still a house of cards. It only took one word from him to bring Tarbell’s shit crashing down. It was one word he couldn’t give. Not yet.

“What’s the aim here?” Petersen asked. “Say we catch Tarbell dead to rights. Then what? Do we turn him over to the police?”

“At this point, Pace would prefer we force him out.”

Ingram broke the meeting up. Gonzalez said he’d be checking in on everyone.

Petersen walked out with Reggie. Reggie slung an arm over his shoulders. It felt like a slab of granite dumped on him.

“You OK? You really do look like shit.”

This was his opportunity to chop Tarbell off at the ankles. He could bring Reggie in. They could work their own angle. Maybe they could trap Tarbell on tape. It wouldn’t be hard. They’d have Tarbell, and he wouldn’t lose face with Ingram. It was doable, but it wasn’t good enough. No one had any intention of putting this guy away. There was nothing stopping Tarbell from coming back after him and his family. He knew what this psycho was capable of.

He forced out a strangled smile. “I’m just getting old. After this one, I’m hanging up my spurs.”

Ingram returned to his office. A message
from Amanda Norton waited for him on his voice mail. He called her back.

“How are you settling in?” he asked.

“Fine.”

“Got a handle on our principal players?”

“Only one. Gwen’s out sick today.”

Understandable after last night
, he thought. “OK. Stay on Tarbell. Call me if anything happens, and remember you have backup outside.”

He said good-bye to Amanda and called Deborah Langan at Pace. He gave her an update on the investigation and their concerns. He asked to put a team on Gwen. Understandably, Deborah hesitated.

“I don’t think I need to keep anyone on her for more than a few days,” Ingram said sweetening the bitter pill. “I just want to be sure everything’s straight. I don’t want to railroad Tarbell if it isn’t true.”

“OK,” Deborah conceded.

“Thanks. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

He hung up. He hesitated on dispatching a team to watch Gwen. Petersen had been right. Gwen’s interview rang true. Nothing in her statement tipped him off as a lie. It was Tarbell’s airtight alibi that screwed everything up. He needed to talk to Gwen. He’d push her hard. If he heard anything he didn’t like, he’d send in a team.

He called Gwen’s cell but got voice mail. He had told her to keep the cell on at all times, but she was out sick. The last thing she needed was calls coming in from the office. He looked up Gwen’s home number and dialed it.

Paul answered.

“Hi, Mr. Farris. It’s Robert Ingram from Private Security International. We met last night. Could I talk to Gwen?”

“She’s at work.”

The answer came as a sucker
punch, catching him right under the jaw. “Paul, she called in sick this morning.”

Silence came from the other end of the line. Ingram didn’t like where this was going. His faith wasn’t being repaid.

Paul’s voice turned stern. “She went into work this morning. Are you sure about your facts?”

“No mistake. She called in sick. Do you know where your wife is, Mr. Farris?”

I
t was late and Tarbell had the Pace building
to himself. He’d spent the day observing and noticed quite a bit. The things that were there and things that weren’t seemed equally interesting to him. The familiar Durango belonging to his daytime watcher was parked in the neighboring parking lot. What bothered him most was the thing that wasn’t there—Gwen. She’d left a phone message letting everyone know she was sick and wouldn’t be coming into the office today. Obviously, last night’s fun had proved too much for poor little Gwennie. Was she having a sick day or was she spilling her guts at PSI’s offices? This was the second time she’d been out of the office since they’d gone into battle. It didn’t worry him. Last night’s exercise was supposed to be a reminder to Gwen that he hadn’t gone away, but there’d been an unexpected bonus. His seemingly mystical ability to be in two places at once had sown the seeds of doubt at PSI. According to Petersen, feelings leaned toward him having choreographed the blackout games last night, but at the same time there was nothing to say Gwen hadn’t masterminded the whole thing. It was her word versus the inconclusive evidence, and the evidence looked to be winning, tainted as it was. He liked having Petersen on tap, feeding him this intel. It made his campaign so much easier.

The other thing he’d been watching for was the
mole. Petersen told him that PSI had inserted an investigator inside Pace to watch Gwen’s back. He said he didn’t know the identity of the investigator, but he was a bad liar. It didn’t matter. Pace didn’t have reams of people starting new jobs every day. PSI would have been smart to bring in three or four new hires to confuse him, but only one person had joined the company since last Wednesday. But then again, PSI was still under the impression he didn’t know he was being investigated. No wonder they didn’t bother to cover their tracks. So Amanda “Call Me Mandy” Norton had begun a new and illustrious career at Pace today. She was a temp working in the Inventory Control department.

He’d watched Mandy at work. She was good. She played at working very well without making it obvious what she was doing. He put that down to an easy first day. Gwen hadn’t shown up so she didn’t have anyone to protect. He’d noticed Mandy make a couple of sweeps through his department. She’d come to check the big bad wolf out in his lair under the guise that she was just introducing herself to everyone. She’d gone to Lauren to ask where Gwen was, and then introduced herself. It was a nice move not to engage him, but he wasn’t going to let her get away with that maneuver. He jumped up, stuck out a hand, and inserted himself into the action.

“Stephen Tarbell.”

“Amanda, but everyone calls me Mandy,” she said, taking his hand. Hers was cool and dry. Not a hint of nervousness at meeting the great monster. She was first class in Tarbell’s book.

“People call me Steve. Also, I’m the longest-serving inmate in this asylum, so if you need directions, feel free to turn to me. Isn’t that right, Lauren?”

“He’s not wrong. He knows this place inside and out.”

Mandy smiled. “I’ll remember that.”

He and Lauren had quizzed her on her new arrival. She stuck to the cover story she’d been dealt, sounding clear and confident. He watched her go and guessed
she’d be straight on the phone to her boss to tell her she’d made first contact.

Well, if Mandy could visit him in his home territory, he could visit her in hers. She’d left at five with everyone else in Inventory Control. Bringing Mandy in as a temp was a mistake on PSI’s part. Temps didn’t work late, not without supervision, and that department never stayed late, leaving him to do as he pleased. He crossed the now quiet office space and sat at Mandy’s desk. It was a typical spot for a temp. She was shoved in a cubicle with the worst office equipment available.

“Mandy, Mandy, Mandy,” he said to himself, “and you were doing so well.”

Clutter filled Mandy’s little slice of Pace Pharmaceuticals. A couple of framed photographs of her, her husband, and two kids sat on the table while crudely painted pictures were push-pinned into the cubicle walls along with other little knick-knacks. It was way too much. She was a temp. Temps didn’t bring all this crap to a place they weren’t staying at. Even if she was full time, it took time to build up this level of junk. Everyone starts off conservative with a picture or two, then builds up to humanize their dull little corner of the working world. She’d overcompensated.

He picked up the family snapshot. It wasn’t staged. It was her with her husband and two kids around the ages of six and eight. It surprised him Mandy had kids. She looked too young for that. She was blonde with a trim figure and a bland, round face. Very ordinary. This probably made her very good in these situations. She didn’t come off as the cop or detective type. There was none of that arrogant and authoritarian vibe cops always give off.

All in all, Amanda “Call Me Mandy” Norton was a good investigator. It was going to be a shame when he ruined her. It had to be done. There was no avoiding it.

“Blame Gwen,” he said to Mandy’s photographed image, as he placed it back in its original spot.

Mandy could wait for
now. He didn’t have to rush. He’d stayed late to take care of Gwen.

He walked into her office and booted up her PC. While it ran through its start-up routines, he removed a CD from his jacket pocket and inserted it into the CD drive. The computer detected its presence and asked him if he’d like to install the software. He answered yes and let the program work its magic.

He’d bought the software off the Web during the weekend. He’d let his mind run free while at his dad’s place. Inflicting terror on the old man had released something inside of him. A desire to inflict cruelty flowed through him like his own blood, feeding his mind and fueling new ideas for revenge. The more he concentrated on destroying Gwen’s life, the more creative he became. He put off his need to harm Gwen physically. He would dismantle her world on a mental and spiritual level. Just like a virus, he’d pick away at her natural defenses until she was totally exposed. Then he’d go in for the kill.

Gwen needed taking down a peg or three. He’d already tarnished her reputation with PSI, but it was time to dirty up her image with the good people at Pace Pharmaceuticals.

A dialog box popped up on the screen telling him the program was installed. Now every keystroke, e-mail, and incoming and outgoing document was being recorded and the data copied and forwarded to his PC at home. And like a smile in the night, it was totally untraceable unless someone knew it existed. With the details the spyware would give him, destroying Gwen’s reputation at work was going to be laughably easy.

“Done and done,” he said with a smile.

Gwen waited at the park next to the Berkeley marina. It was four thirty, and the biting wind racing off the bay forced her to pull her coat around her tightly. A car horn tooted, and she watched Paul pull up. Kirsten waved excitedly, and Gwen waved
back before the girl hopped down from the car and rushed over to her. Gwen gathered her up and took sustenance from her daughter’s embrace. Kirsten’s simple hug reminded her of how alone she’d felt these last few days.

“Now will you tell me where you were all day?” Paul asked. “I’ve been worried sick since Ingram called me earlier.”

There was no anger, just concern. It was more than she deserved. She’d switched off her phone when she’d played hooky from work to buy the gun. Among the repeated calls from Deborah Langan and Ingram wanting to know her whereabouts were Paul’s. It had taken her hours before she’d had the courage to call him and tell him where they could meet. Now that they were face-to-face, she’d have to give a convincing explanation of her behavior.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to be alone for a while.”

“Can we go play?” Kirsten demanded.

“Sure we can,” Gwen said.

Kirsten ran headlong into the park. The sun was fast falling toward the ocean beyond the bay. The day’s warmth was still palpable, but the stiff breeze coming off the water chilled the air a little more than was comfortable.

Gwen took Paul’s hand, and they followed Kirsten into the park. It was a popular spot, even on a weekday. People flew elaborate kites, joggers ran the winding paths, and dog owners called to their off-leash pets. Kirsten scampered over to a tan and white Australian shepherd dog. The owner told the dog to sit and OK’d Kirsten to pet it.

“He likes me,” she called to her parents.

“Just don’t upset him,” Gwen called back before thanking the dog owner for indulging her daughter.

The owner called the dog to heel, leaving Kirsten momentarily disappointed before spotting two Jack Russell terriers roughhousing with each other.

“We should get her a dog,” Paul said.

Gwen liked the idea of a
dog. It would give Kirsten some responsibility and a playmate. “Maybe after Stephen is dealt with.”

“Is that why you didn’t go into work today, because of him?”

“Yes. I even drove there, but when I got close, I just couldn’t do it.” Every word of the lie burned her throat.

“Why didn’t you come home then? With all the late nights you’ve pulled over the last few months, it would be nice to have you home for a change.”

She didn’t have to lie about this. She could have gone home or returned to work after buying the gun, but she wasn’t ready to face either Tarbell or Paul. She just wanted to be alone. People were either fussing over her or frightening her. It felt good to be clear of anybody’s reach.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I was a little embarrassed, I guess.”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed around me.” He squeezed her hand. “If you don’t want to face that moron, then don’t. In fact, burn some of your vacation days and take yourself out of harm’s way. Let Ingram and his crew worry about taking care of him. It’ll do you good. We can go away somewhere while you recharge. You can put this behind you, and when you return to Pace, he’ll be gone.”

But she was already shaking her head. “We can’t afford to go away anywhere.”

“Yes, we can. We’re struggling, but we’re not desperate. We don’t have to go far, just away.” He smiled. “Visa can treat us. We can always file Chapter 11 later.”

Goddamn him. He could always make her smile at the lowest of times. She leaned over and kissed him. “You’re a butthead, do you know that?”

“Is that a yes?”

Her expression made it clear that it wasn’t, and Paul’s smile faded.

“Why?”

“It’s running.”

“You’re not running. You’re playing it safe. You’re not the only one at risk here. What about Kirsten and
me? He could be gunning to hurt us all.”

Gunning. The word left her feeling sick. She’d been spending the afternoon trying to wash the idea of guns from her head.

Paul pointed at Kirsten. “Look at her. Do you want that freak laying his hands on her?”

Kirsten was oblivious to the threats surrounding her at every turn. Unknown predators prowled parks and playgrounds. Guys with too many drinks inside them climbed behind the wheel of their vehicles and drove down their street. No dire thoughts crossed her mind. She chased happiness in the form of crazy kites and excited dogs. It was an innocence Gwen would preserve at all costs.

“I’d die before I’d let him touch her.”

“Then for her, if no one else, let’s take off somewhere.”

“You go, take Kirsten to your mom’s, but I have to stay. None of this goes away until Tarbell is dealt with. Ingram is going to need me around.”

“No way, Gwen. Talk about giving him what he wants. You home alone is his wet dream. If you’re staying, we’re all staying. But you have to make a deal with me.”

She hoped she could agree to it. She knew she was pushing him, but she couldn’t push him too much further. “What is it?”

“If you can’t face him tomorrow, we go on vacation. No ifs or buts. We pack up the car and go.”

“Deal. I even want you to drive me to work in the morning.” She pulled him to her. “Thank you.”

“C’mon, Special K, stop scaring the dogs,” Paul called.

Kirsten stopped and frowned.

“Don’t you want any dinner tonight?”

That got her moving.

They walked to the restaurant in the
marina. It sat on stilts over the water. They’d come here often when they were both employed. Now the menu stretched their budget, but it made a welcome change. The hostess put the three of them in a prime window seat overlooking the bay. The lapping water and setting sun made for a romantic setting. Kirsten tracked the sun’s descent and counted it down as it disappeared over the horizon.

With a bargain struck, Paul didn’t hold a grudge about Gwen’s disappearance. They talked and played with Kirsten. It was family life again. Their problems suddenly seemed small. Money troubles and Paul’s unemployed status were minor irritations. Stephen Tarbell didn’t even occur to her once during dinner. Gwen felt content.

She settled the bill, and they drove home. She and Paul swapped cars so she could get some girl time with Kirsten. Paul called Gwen on her cell and challenged ‘the girls’ to a race home. It wasn’t a real race, as there wasn’t much chance of one in the heavy traffic still heading home. They just went with the flow of traffic, picking the lanes that seemed to move the quickest. But traffic being traffic, they both pulled into the garage at virtually the same time. Paul held the edge on Gwen.