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Beth knows a large swath of this town shows up on my security feed, but she never looks for my cameras. It makes me think I’m a million miles from her thoughts.
On the third day, Beth’s got her toddler on her hip, standing outside the pharmacy. She’s digging through her purse for something. Her little girl notices when I swivel the camera around to get a better look at them. She looks startled for a second as she stares up at it. Her whole face gets serious, and I can tell she’s working hard to figure out what it is and why it suddenly moved. She points to the camera and begins babbling. Since that security camera doesn’t have a microphone, I don’t know what she’s saying. Thankfully, Beth just bounces her on her hip once to redirect the little one’s attention, and they head into the pharmacy. That was fuckin’ close. I need to be more careful, especially around the kid. She’s got eagle eyes, that one.
Later that same day, I see a truck following them. I’ve been doing this job long enough to know what that looks like. It’s an older gray Silverado with tinted windows and dried mud splashed on the license plate. That’s an automatic red flag, because it’s the oldest trick in the book for obscuring a license plate number.
It trails across town to that lawyer’s office and stays parked about half a block away while Beth and her little one go inside. If it’s the kid’s dad, why hang back? It feels stalkerish. Yeah, I forget for a second that I’m stalking her too, I think wryly. At least my motivations are mostly pure. I don’t know about this guy, though, so I’m not taking any chances.
I grab my cell phone and type out a message to the brothers’ group chat, asking anyone in the vicinity of Ninth and Foster Streets to check it out. Of course, it’s Jinx who responds. It’s always him because he’s too fuckin’ curious for his own good. It’s working to my advantage this time, so I can’t complain.
He pulls up behind the guy and gets off his bike. I watch him walk up to the back of the truck, kick the mud off the license plate, and take a picture of it with his cell phone. Fuck. Stealthy, this brother is not. Whoever is inside notices right away. I can tell because he’s moving around inside, looking a little panicked.
Jinx walks around to the driver’s side and taps on the window with his damn gun. I run my fingers through my hair, wishing a more discreet brother had shown up. When he presses the barrel of his gun against the window, the person inside slowly lowers it. They talk for a few moments, then Jinx strolls away, but not before he snaps a photo of the man and his vehicle.
My phone buzzes and I open the message. It’s a photo of the dude and his plate number. My phone buzzes again; this time it’s a text:
Jinx: He says he got lost and is trying to find his way back to the highway.
Then he strolls off and gets back on his bike, like it’s just another day. The truck takes off like a bat outta hell. And I decide right then and there, Jinx and I are gonna have words about this.
Cursing under my breath, I run the license plate against every resource I’ve ever hacked. I run facial recognition on Jinx’s picture. It’s not the kind of information you can run down in a minute or two. I let the process run. Then I begin looking for it in feeds all over town, particularly around where she’s been since rolling into town. And I find that very same truck rolling past the hotel every morning, sometimes more than once. I see it three cars behind her on the highway after she pulls out of the grocery store parkin’ lot.
In fact, I see it a total of seven times over the last three days. Whoever this is knows how to tail someone. He’s not good enough to avoid my cameras, but he’s definitely good enough to avoid being detected by a worn-out woman burying her kin while distracted and looking after a little one. Once I realize this, my hackles are up because I’m the only person in Cedar Falls who knows she’s in danger and therefore the only one who can protect her.
I’m up out of my chair and reaching for my keys before my mind has made the conscious decision to get involved. I notice right before walking out the door that she’s heading in the direction of her hotel. So, I head there on my bike.
***
The hotel sits on a paved lot that’s seen better days. It has a neon vacancy sign that flickers from an electrical short. I hate every single thing about this place. It’s not bottom of the barrel, but it’s damn close. I park up and walk up to the door, looking around for that fucker in the gray truck. I’m careful to knock lightly so I don’t scare the kid or wake her up if she’s napping.
She keeps the chain on when she answers the door. One green eye peers through the opening at me. Without hesitation, she says, “No. Absolutely not. Get away from me, Striker, and don’t come back.”
“Beth,” I state mildly. “Don’t be like this. I have something important to talk to you about.”
“No. I don’t want to hear whatever it is you have to say. Leave me alone.”
“You have to listen to me,” I shoot back. Truth be told, I hadn’t expected her to jump into my arms or anything dramatic, but I hadn’t anticipated such an icy reception either.
“You don’t get to knock on my door and pretend everything’s okay after what you accused me of three years ago.” Her voice is low and furious. She’s yell-whispering at me, which I suspect is so she doesn’t alarm her kid. It wrecks me a little that she still harbors this kind of anger over some stupid shit I said years ago. “Go away,” she says bluntly.
I can’t keep arguing with her outside the door, so I get right to the point. “You’re bein’ followed. That’s the only reason I’m here. Somebody’s been on you since you rolled into town. It’s a man driving an older model gray Silverado. I’ve got him on half a dozen feeds trailin’ you all over town.”
The eye behind the chain glances away for an instant before asking, “Are you sure about that?”
Shifting uncomfortably, I tell her, “I saw you on one of my security feeds while I was checkin’ the cameras. I saw him, and when I scrolled back through the footage, I realized he’s been on you and your kid for days. You know what I do for a living, Beth, so trust me when I say the two of you might be in danger.”
She glances over her shoulder and immediately takes the chain off. Rather than opening the door and inviting me in, she steps out and pulls it shut behind her. It wounds my soul that she’d rather stand outside in her sock feet than have me in the same room as her child.
“To be honest, I’ve seen the gray truck a lot,” she says. “I kept telling myself I was being paranoid, that my uncle’s untimely death had me jumping at my own shadow.” Her arms come up and wrap around her stomach. She’s coming across as scared but working hard not to make it obvious. Seeing that tugs at my protective instincts, making me want to put myself between her and possible danger.
She spells it out for me just in case I might not understand. “I didn’t come back because of you, Striker. My uncle died. I’m the only one left behind to bury him. He didn’t have a will, so his estate has to go through probate. Since I’m his only living family, whatever he had will pass to me, and I need that money to take care of my daughter. This is her future we’re talking about. After the estate is settled, we’re leaving.”
Every word feels like a well-deserved slap in the face. I don’t argue or try to defend myself. Nor do I come out with one of the explanations I’ve saved for just such an occasion, because she’s making it abundantly clear she’s not interested in hearing any of that from me, much less starting things back up with me. I owe it to her to offer her and her little one protection without expecting something in return.
“Okay,” I tell her. “I understand where you’re coming from about that. But you’re bein’ stalked by a man who is good at discreetly tailin’ someone. We don’t know what he wants with you.” I place my hand against her door and point out, “This door wouldn’t hold up to a good kick, and you’ve got a little girl you’re tryin’ to keep safe. Let me protect you until you finish your business here in town, and then you can be on your way. I’m offerin’ you protection with no strings attached. You don’t even have to say thank you. Just let me keep the two of you safe for however long you’re in town.”
She studies me for a long, hard minute. Even I have to admit that was an unexpectedly heartfelt speech. The old Beth would have had a witty, flirty comeback. The Beth standing in front of me is more concerned with keeping her child safe. I can tell by the way she glances at the door of the hotel room while she thinks it over. She’s weighing the devil she knows against the devil she doesn’t know.
“Alright, I’ll agree to let you provide security for us. But it’s going to be as a paid job, rather than out of the kindness of your heart,” she says finally. “Whatever your rate is, invoice me just like you do for any other customer. And I’ll pay it when I get my uncle’s estate settled. We need to keep things professional. Is that agreeable?”
