“Thank you for your time.” I’m in the elevator before his office door is fully closed.
Routing around is not always faster than going through, but it’s more reliable, and I’ve always preferred reliable. Esposito’s face sits in my brain on the drive home. His patterns, his bullshit, what he has and doesn’t have. That low-level asshole always wants what he can’t have. He blackmails his way into women’s beds by offering to knock off some of their debt for an unsatisfactory fuck, then complains about their performance, raising their interest rate.
He will not have Lena.
I run surveillance for three days, with Alanda ready to text me for emergency cases while she helps out with Opal. I know Ed’s routine, his car, and the geography of his operation. He’s small-time, but a big enough producer that he has Marco’s men to help. What I’m looking for is his schedule in relation to Lena’s—where he shows up, when, how often.
Day one, he drives twice past her old building. That tracks for someone running a collection route, checking whether the debtor is home, keeping her aware she’s being watched. If she doesn’t notice him, her neighbors will. Standard low-grade pressure. Unpleasant, but bounded.
After her shift, he followed her to my building. Explains why Marco knows she’s staying with me.
Day two, he hits Opal’s school. He parks on the block and stays in the car for fourteen minutes during pickup time. This is nolonger about the debt. He’s circling what means the most to Lena.
Day three changes the math entirely. He’s in the park—the one Lena brings Opal to on her days off. He’s on foot, wearing a dark jacket, and keeps moving while his eyes are on his fixed point. The fixed point is Lena, who is pushing Opal on the swings and has no idea she’s anyone’s target right now.
He’s moved from collection to surveillance. He’s building a map of her movements, her patterns, her vulnerabilities of schedule and geography. I know what that kind of map gets used for, and it’s not something I’m willing to let develop.
I wait until Lena packs up and she and Opal clear the block. Ed plans to pop out from behind a tree on their way back home.
I cross the park to get to that tree first. It’s near an alley between a bistro and a bookstore.
Ed clocks me coming and does the calculation—registers the suit I’m in, and lands somewhere between cautious and dismissive.
The suit always earns me that half second of underestimation. It’s useful that way.
“Spinelli. Can I help you?”
“You’ve been following Lena Swan.”
He recovers fast, which tells me he’s had practice. “I don’t know who that is. I walk in this park just like everyone else.”
Translation: Marco told me your plan, and you can’t do shit about it, so I’m gonna lie to your face.
“You went past her building. You went past her daughter’s school. You’re in this park right now because she’s in this parkright now, and you’ve been forty feet behind her for twenty minutes.” I let that sit. Let him know that I know what he’s doing, and that he’s not the only one who watches.
He’s nervous for just a flash, before he smirks. “I’m flattered, Spinelli, but I don’t go in for men.”
I ignore his attempt at getting a rise out of me. “She owes you money. I understand that. She’ll pay it back. In the meantime, you will stay away from her.”
He shifts his weight. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
“I’m the man who knows, in clinical detail, exactly how much damage a body can sustain before it stops being able to answer questions,” I say quietly. “Not from my medical background. Or did you forget who I am?”
“You’re threatening me?”
“Marco wouldn’t like me threatening you. So of course I’m not.”
He looks at me for a long moment. There’s nothing in my face that helps him resolve the calculation, and eventually, the math produces the only answer available to it. His fingers tick like he’s thinking of taking this up a level.
Not happening. Not with Lena and Opal on their way here. I hook my arm around his and pull, forcing him to come with me into the alleyway.
“Get your fucking hands off?—”
I wedge my knife against his ribs through my suit jacket. “Now, now, Ed. You don’t want a new breathing hole, do you?”
He’s remarkably more cooperative by the time we reach the alleyway. I watch as Lena and Opal walk and giggle their way past the entry of the alley, completely unaware of what I’m up to.
Which is the point.
