“No.”But it shouldn’t be surprising that the two would meet.“Could’ve been unexpected.”
It occurs to me that I haven’t texted Adrien.
“Happened this morning.It was quick.”
“What’d they discuss?”
“We don’t have audio in Adrien’s office.Only video of the hallway.”
Right.“I’ll ask.”
“You can return the car and head home,” Quinn tells me.“Noah’s heading back.You’ve got dinner plans right?”
“Yeah.I’ll head back.”
I hate losing targets.He wasn’t even trying to evade us, which makes it worse.Penn Station and the subways…they’re both fucking madhouses.Maybe I played it too conservatively.Perhaps I should’ve parked closer—never lost sight.
The Civic’s a junker.I could’ve double-parked and let the city tow it.But I know that would’ve been a poor plan.It would’ve attracted attention and increased the likelihood he would’ve turned around.
Back on the West Side, my building in view, my phone buzzes.
Unknown number
STOP
I give the text a second glance, searching for the telltale signs of spam.Some additional message.A link to click.There’s nothing.
Holding the phone, I continue ascending the stairs.I have two hours to shower and prep for dinner, which sounds like a lot but with traffic I’m looking at forty-five minutes travel time unless I take the subway.
If Eddie’s back down at the club for the evening service, then he may have just had another brief meeting.If he’s still gone, then it’s conceivable something happened and he needed to head home.Although would someone like Eddie really take the train?Wouldn’t he have access to the same fleet of cars that Adrien does?And he chose not to use a car associated with the club.And then he disappeared.
I insert my key into the deadbolt, as my gaze tracks the door frame.It’s when I slip the key into the lower bolt that my skin chills and the alertness that only a surge of adrenaline produces hits me.Fresh scratches mark the brass.
Someone jimmied the lock.Then locked it behind them.
I draw my gun.In the Agency we often left them, but habit or not, I’ve carried for years.This feels necessary now.
I don’t know whether they left the lock to trap me or to hide their entrance.Either way, I move like I mean it.
Gun up, I turn the knob.
If anyone’s here, they heard the key.
I push the door wide.
The hall is empty.I clear the threshold, shoulder angled to watch the corridor.
I step forward, slow and deliberate.
A draft lifts the edge of my wig.
What?Nobody would jump from a fifth-floor window.
“Hello?”I call.
The room’s empty, but black and white glossy photographs scatter across the sofa and floor.
Gun up, I round the kitchen corner.
