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Schwartz

Schwartz

He stopped as he crossed the foyer of the building housing the offices of a local influential politician who was on Lucien’s payroll. A figure in a black skirt and smart jacket, her hair in a bun at the nape of her neck, seemed vaguely familiar. Slim and tall, her dark brown hair and the way she moved her head made him pause.

He knew this woman, he thought, frowning.

She turned at that moment and it came to him.

Of course, Aiyana Laughing Water Preston, the beautiful Native American FBI agent who he had met by accident at the psychologists’ when he was undergoing counselling at the clinic of Dr. Ethan Hale. It had been immediately after the death of his beloved Fionella and she had also been there for personal reasons.

***

He smiled and stepped towards her. She half-turned and watched him warily. Then recognition flooded her beautiful oval face and she smiled, stepping forward, her voice husky with pleasure as she said,

“James Schwartz, isn’t it?’

She put out her hand and he s
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