“You could call us old poker buddies.” I’m going to kill him. “All right. You do your thing; I’ll hit this dinner and find you afterwards.” He turned and walked away. Each step felt heavier than the last. Jenny was permanently seared into his retinas. But he had to take one last look. He turned and stared over his shoulder. “See if you can bring some of that outfit home tonight. I’ll put it to good use.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Agent Murphy’s name appeared on his phone, and it was the perfect excuse to bail on the boring dinner party. Asher had done his piece. He’d said hello to the right people, discussed all the issues and impending legislation that dinner guests had asked about, and even thrown out a few insider-only campaign details that the dinner guests would love and he needed leaked. Like the new poll numbers that had him holding a solid lead over his opponent.

He answered right before the call would hit voice mail. “Hey, Murphy. Tell me you have good news.”

“I have good news.”

“Really?”

“Well, it’s news. A lead. After combing through your old constituent mail, we found several letters from M. H. Bowie. Recognize the name?”

“No. But we get thousands of letters, e-mails, phone calls. I don’t handle them myself.”

“This guy showed up at least once in your office last year, but we don’t think you ever saw him. Met with your deputy chief of staff after harassing a couple interns.”

“M.H. Bowie is Maxwell?”

“Bowie’s first name is Maxwell. He’s the fifth Maxwell Bowie in his family. All military, all the way back to the revolutionary war. We’re talking steep family history.”

“How does that relate to the notes?”

“New York seized his home under the claim of eminent domain. A highway is under construction, and Maxwell’s family home—they call it the Bowie Estate—is where an exit ramp is planned.”

Asher nodded. “I know about the so-called Bowie Estate. They’ve applied and have been denied for historic and national landmark designations. The Bowies have zip in terms of documentation.”

“Exactly. And Maxwell the Fifth was dishonorably charged from the Army after a few incidents. His psych evaluations fit with the profile of someone trying to redeem himself in the eyes of his family.”

“So Maxwell Bowie is our guy? Got a picture of the dick?”

“Not one hundred percent positive, but he’s the best we’ve got. We’ll get his picture and file e-mailed to you. Now for the bad news. He’s also off the radar. Don’t know where the bastard is. Here’s the deal, Congressman—”

“Asher.”

“Yes, sir. If it is him, he’s not your typical politically driven stalker. He’s had some mid-level specialty training. Enough to make him dangerous.”

“Just terrific.” Asher blew out harshly as he hailed a cab. “I’ve hired a protective detail for Molly and Jenny.”

“Well, actually, sir—”

“Asher.” A yellow taxi pulled over, and he hopped in and gave the intersection for the happy hour. He looked at his watch. Five minutes, tops.