I catch her talking to a woman. She holds her hands. “I’ll take you to the courthouse, okay. I’ll be there with you. Until then, you stay here. We keep each other warm here. That’s the deal.”
The woman sobs softly.
She talks to another woman. This one is in her mid to late fifties. Snarky. Hasn’t seen a shower in a long time. The stench is uncomfortable. But Calista Ferraro doesn’t seem to notice any of that.
I continue to watch her as she talks to someone she calls Major. A vet. She gives him money, which he tries to refuse, but then finally accepts. He’s grateful. She waves it away.
Who the fuck is this woman?
Most of the people I know only volunteer when there are cameras and the press around.
This is simply…kindness.
It unsettles me.
What the hell could she have done to bring me to her doorstep?
And that’s the other thing. She doesn’t seem to know she’s being hunted. Usually, when you’re up shit creek without a paddle—which is when I memorize your face and personal details—you are wary.
This woman is walking around like it’s just another Tuesday.
That’s either arrogance or innocence—and based on what I’m seeing, it’s not arrogance.
I take out my phone and type a message to Logan on a secure program, which only the family uses.
Me:Ferraro, Calista. Need a full workup.
Logan:Am I vetting your Tinder matches again?
Me:She’s a target.
Logan:Figured.
Me:Well?
Logan:It’s been seconds since your first text, asshole.
Me:You’ve gotten slow.
Logan:Fuck you. And I’m already halfway through her data.
I grin.
Logan is fast and furious—the best brother and hacker an assassin could ask for.
Two minutes pass. Then five. The soup line is thinning.
Calista kneels to help a man pick up a spilled carton of milk. Doesn’t flinch when it soaks her sleeve.
Logan:You sure she’s a target? This one’s got nun energy. She runs a homeless shelter. Has no debt. No savings. Nocriminal record. I think the last person she killed was probably a spider.
Me:There’s got to be something.
Logan:Then it’s deep. I’ll need time for that.
Me:Like I said, you’re slipping.
Logan:
