Thinking about how much I care about Noelle, about the future I already want with her, I can’t even imagine the depth of Tyler’s loss. But now I finally know how incredible it is, having a woman who fits me like no one else. And shit, I want that for Tyler again.
I don’t say that, of course. Instead, I get back to business. Tapping my phone to wake it, I pull up the blueprints of the building we’re about to break into. It’s five-stories, with Donaldson’s apartment located on the first floor of the western end, right beside the mail room. Our plan is to use the private tenant entrance there, and at this time of night, it’s highly unlikely that there’ll be anyone checking their mail.
Thanks to Tyler’s hacking skills, we’ll be able to walk right inside the building, and Donaldson’s apartment is less than twenty feet from there. I’ll pick the locks for his door—I’m the fastest of the three of us with the lockpicks—and hopefully, in under a minute, we’ll be in.
“The surveillance cameras are going to be on a loop?” I ask, even though I already know the answer. It’s just habit to go back through everything before an op, to make sure we’re all on the same page and there’s not some small detail we missed.
“Yes,” Tyler replies. “I’ve already got them running footage from an hour ago. Not that there’s a designated security guard watching. Just the nighttime doorman, and he’ll be at the other end of the building, in the lobby.”
“And if we run into someone in the hallway,” Ace recaps, “we’ll have our trusty disguises.” He taps the prosthetic chin he’s wearing. It’s significantly larger than his own, and it’s covered with a thick brown beard to match the wig he’s wearing over his dirty blonde hair.
I flip down the visor to check my own disguise, which consists of bushy brown eyebrows, a prosthetic nose with a bump on the bridge of it, and a mustache that hangs over my upper lip. My hair is covered by a Mariners baseball cap, and I’m wearing a baggy sweatshirt to match.
“Maybe I should stick with red,” Tyler muses as he adjusts his red wig. He has huge glasses that cover nearly half his face, and a scraggly red beard masks the rest of it. “It’s certainly… distinctive.”
“That’s the point,” Ace says as he parks the car in an empty spot just down the road from Donaldson’s building. “If we run into anyone, and they’re asked about it later, they’ll remember details like that. Red hair. Big nose. Bushy eyebrows.”
“I know,” Tyler replies drolly. “Iamaware of how disguises work.”
Ace turns off the car. Then he turns towards me. “Okay. Since this is your op, do you want to go over it one more time?”
I allow myself one last surge of anger before shoving it down deep. Now’s not the time for emotion. It’s for focusing on the task at hand—namely, getting into Donaldson’s apartment without notice and making sure his neighbors don’t hear anything suspicious.
With a lift of my chin, I ask, “We know he’s home, right?”
Tyler nods. “According to the security footage in the building, he hasn’t left since Wednesday. He sent an email to the theater employees on Wednesday night to let them know he was sick and wouldn’t be in.”
Ace jumps in. “I tailed the guy to the drugstore on Wednesday afternoon. He didn’t look great. I’d say he’s definitely sick.”
“That’s good for us,” I reply. “Not that we have to worry about him fighting back, but he’ll be less apt to try if he’s not feeling well.”
With a glance down the street at the brick building we’re about to enter, I add, “Once we get inside his apartment, we’ll fan out. Ace, you check the primary bedroom to the left. Tyler, you’ll take the bedroom on the right. And I’ll head straight into the living room. Whoever finds him first, immediately silence and restrain him. We can’t let him make a sound. Not until we have the situation under control.”
Ace and Tyler nod as they reply in unison, “Roger that.”
“I’ll take point on the interrogation,” I continue. “Ace, you’ll make sure he knows what will happen if he tries yelling.” Since Ace is the biggest of us, all he usually has to do is just stand there, looking pissed off and menacing. “And Tyler, you’ll search his apartment. See if he has any computers he’s keeping offline.”
“On it,” Tyler says.
“I’ll be extra intimidating,” Ace adds. He smiles grimly. “Maybe I can even make him pee himself.”
“The primary goal is to get those videos,” I say. “But we want a confession about planting the cameras, too. The fingerprint we found on the camera in Noelle’s bathroom isn’t going to be enough. Considering how incompetent the police were before, they’ll probably claim she took the camera from the theater or some shit like that. We need a solid confession. With details. Receipts.”
Tyler puts his hand on my shoulder. “We’ll find it, Spidey. We’re not leaving until we do.”
I take a deep breath and let it out in a rush. “Okay. Are we ready?”
“Ready,” they both reply.
Raising my hand in the hold signal, I take one last second to visualize the plan. My dad always told me to do that—whatever you want to accomplish, visualize it from start to finish. See yourself acing the test or winning the race, and you’re setting yourself up for success.
In this case, success is the only option.
And with that in mind, I lower my hand.
The three of us exit the car at the same time and close the doors silently in unison.
Then we start off towards the building, walking at a brisk pace as we chat quietly about nothing. Tyler allows his gait to wobble a little, like he’s slightly tipsy. Ace intentionally drops a fake wallet on the ground and picks it back up. If anyone happens to see us, we want them to think we’re just three guys on our way home from the bars—a little buzzed, but harmless.
