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I pulled up the collar of my jacket and slid lower behind the wheel in the spot I’d staked out. No one was about at this midnight hour on Bri Tucker’s quiet residential street—except for the crouched figure that was staying in the shadows of themature trees and bushes and moving steadily in the direction of her duplex.
Very curious.
Also providential.
Lucky thing I’d extended my surveillance later than usual tonight or I’d have missed this potential opportunity. One that could play into the plans I was formulating for my distraction campaign.
The way I saw it, no law enforcement organization had enough staff to indulge a fire investigator who wanted to pursue unprovable suspicions, so at some point Bri Tucker’s boss would pull her from the Kavanaugh case. And if she was occupied off duty dealing with other aggravations, she’d have no spare time to pursue her theories.
I’d already come up with a few ideas, but this new twist might put another resource at my disposal.
The figure stopped at the bottom of the duplex’s driveway, and I lifted my binoculars. Fitted them against my face.
In the darkness, it was impossible to tell the gender of the person wearing a baseball cap pulled low on their forehead. But based on height and build, it appeared to be a male.
And whatever he was up to probably wasn’t legal if he had to skulk around in the middle of the night to do it.
I set the binoculars down and picked up my phone. Filmed the area to identify the location, then zoomed in. The quality wasn’t great in the low-light situation, but only I would know that. And there were tons of enhancement tools out there.
After giving the neighborhood a scan, the guy pulled something from a pocket in his jacket and walked across the apron of the driveway. After pausing twice to bend down, as if he was setting objects on the concrete, he stuffed whatever was in his hand back in his jacket and jogged toward a black Chevy Cruze parked several doors down.
I homed in tight on the license plate, memorizing the numbers and letters as I filmed him getting into the car. It wouldn’t be hard to trace the owner. I had excellent resources if I needed them.
But why not follow the guy? See what else I could find out? All had been quiet at the duplex since the lights went out at ten thirty, and there was no reason to think that would change before I was back on surveillance duty at dawn for daylight reconnaissance.
I set the cell on the seat, twisted the key in the ignition, and gave the other driver a head start before falling in behind him. It wasn’t hard to keep the Cruze in sight at this hour of the night given the sparse traffic. The trick was remaining undetected.
I’d had plenty of practice at that after the shadowing I’d done on my prior targets, though.
The car wound through the streets, stopping fifteen minutes later in front of a modest home in a respectable suburban neighborhood.
Odd that he didn’t pull into the driveway.
The lights on the car went off, and the driver slid out from behind the wheel.
I’d killed my lights a few streets back after the meager traffic that had helped mask my pursuit evaporated, and now I too parked by the curb. Picked up my binoculars again and trained them on the dark figure.
Now that he’d ditched the cap, I could confirm it was a man. But he was angled away, making it impossible to get a clear view of his profile.
Didn’t matter. I had all I needed. This address and the plate number would tell me everything I wanted to know.
I waited until he disappeared through the front door, put my car in gear again, and tooled toward home, my brain processing this new development.
Two things were clear.
Someone besides me appeared to have Bri Tucker in their sights.
And with the incriminating evidence I had against that someone, it was possible I could get him to do my dirty work as well as his if I played my cards right.
I settled back in my seat, lips flexing.
This had been a good night. For me, if not for the unlucky guy who’d just become my unwitting accomplice.
SEVEN
AS FAR ASSHE COULDTELL,Michelle Thomas’s death had been accidental.
Bri read the last few lines of Les’s origin and cause report, skimmed the autopsy findings again, and sat back in her chair.
