I did.
"Good luck," he said.
"Jamie's feral, that one. Whatever you want with her... she ain't gonna make it easy."
I was already walking away.
The apartment complex was peeling, with cracked windows and the sour smell of neglect.
I parked a block away, found a shadow outside the entrance, and waited.
She emerged mid-morning, swallowed by an oversized hoodie despite the Florida heat.
Head down.
Moving fast.
I followed at a distance in my car.
She stopped at a grocery store first.
Bread.
Milk.
Cans of soup.
She spoke to no one.
Then she started walking back.
I beat her there and waited in the hallway of the building she'd left.
The corridor reeked of mildew and old grease.
She walked right past me.
I waited to see which unit she entered.
Apartment 2B.
immediately, I pulled my lock picks out. One click. Two. The door eased open.
The place was small but clean. She stood in the tiny kitchen with her back to me, unbuttoning her oversized hoodie and dropping it onto a chair. Her earbuds were plugged into her phone on the counter.
She pulled the buds out, caught my reflection in the microwave glass, and froze.
Then she turned.
"Who the fuck are you?"
There was no fear in her voice.
Most women would've screamed.
Cried.
Begged.
