As Tyler headed down the street, she got in her car and was about to start the engine when she got a text from Max asking for an update.
Instead of texting him back, she called him, happy when he answered. "I was just going to ask you the same thing," she said. "Is Dominic tied to Wexler Properties?"
"We should meet. Where are you?"
"Chelsea."
"What are you doing there?"
"Just met with the old man who sold his car for cash to someone named Cal, who was going to handle the registration for him."
"So there's no change of ownership record."
"Nope. Tell me you have something to go on."
"Where are you headed now?"
"Home."
"I'll meet you there."
She wasn't sure that was the best idea, but she wanted to hear what he had to say, so she said she'd see him soon and started the car.
Max stood on the sidewalk in front of Kara's building, a four-story brownstone on a tree-lined street in the Lower East Side. The neighborhood had that lived-in feel he appreciated—bodegas on the corners, people walking dogs, the mix of old and new that made New York feel real instead of polished. He pressed the buzzer for apartment 1B.
"It's me," he said when she answered.
The door buzzed open, and he found her apartment to be the first door on the left. She opened it before he could knock, still wearing her work clothes, but she'd taken off her jacket and pulled her hair out of its ponytail. She looked tired, and he had to fight off an inexplicable urge to give her a comforting hug, which she would probably not find comforting at all. In fact, he wouldn't put it past her to flip him flat on his back if he tried anything because, despite the way she'd kissed him last night, she now seemed determined to make that a distant memory. But for him, it wasn't distant at all, and that brought a faint smile to his lips, which made her gaze narrow in suspicion.
"What's funny?" she asked.
"Nothing," he said. "Can I come in?"
She waved him inside, and as he stepped into the room, he found her home to be small but also colorful. Her tough federal agent exterior was missing in a living room filled with a soft, puffy sky-blue couch and matching armchair, with a colorful rug, and walls covered with art and pictures of New York. There was a small galley kitchen off to the side of the living room, and through an open doorway, he could see a bedroom and bath.
"Nice," he said.
"Messy," she countered as she moved some books off the armchair.
"It looks like you're a reader."
She nodded. "Always."
He picked up the top book from the stack she'd just moved. "Suspense? You don't get enough of that on the job?"
She shrugged. "I read everything."
He could see that as he moved through the stack. Everything included romance, a historical novel, and a biography on Lyndon Johnson that looked to be over a thousand pages. "Wow, this one would make a great paperweight."
"Why are you here?" she asked. "Do you have new information? Did you talk to Dominic?"
"I did. Do you have anything to drink?"
"Uh, water, juice, and maybe a beer."
"Really? I'll take a beer. I hadn't figured you for a beer drinker."
"One of my cousins stayed with me for a few days last week, and he brought the beer," she said as she moved into the kitchen.
