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I pulled one of my cards from my pocket and slid it across the counter. “In case you want to make it my business.”
Chapter Nine
Andrew
Reconnaissancein the form of actual spying wasn’t typically a part of my work. In law school, Patrick and I had spent a summer working with a private investigator. Both of us had envisioned that we’d be part super sleuth, part super attorney, but I’d never used the skills I’d acquired that summer in the capacity I was in at that very moment.
Trish closed the window to her food truck, and I leaned forward in my seat.
“She’ll move soon. Whatever you do, don’t lose her,” I said to the cab driver.
“You ain’t stalking her, are you?”
We’d been sitting here for a half an hour, and he was just now growing a conscience?
Without taking my eyes off the truck, I answered, “No. She’s a friend. I just need to look out for her, but if she knows, she won’t be too happy.” I glanced at him in the rearview mirror. “She’s the independent type.”
The exhausted state I’d found Trish to be in grated on me, but that phone call and her reaction was what had me sitting here, stalking her. I had an overwhelming urge to fix her problems, whatever they were.
I was actually glad Timothy saw her reaction to that phone call as well. He was a good cop, and he’d be a bit more vigilant with checking in on Trish. But Ineededto care for her. Somehow.
“Move,” I instructed as Trish maneuvered onto the street. “Stay close, but not enough to draw her attention.”
She drove a few blocks and flicked on a turn signal. After letting a couple of pedestrians cross the street, she made a right. Cars darted around her. The truck didn’t move too fast, but Trish drove like a pro.
There was no chance she’d see me in the back of a cab behind her truck, but for some reason, I was tempted to slide down in the back seat.Ridiculous, Dixon. You’re in rush-hour traffic in New York City.
Fifteen minutes later, she pulled into a parking lot.
“Turn around and wait for her,” I said as we rolled past.
In a few minutes, she strode out of the entrance to the lot, her bag on her shoulder, hugged tightly to her side.
“Thanks for the lift.” I tossed a couple of hundreds at the driver and eased out of the cab.
Careful to stay out of sight, I shadowed Trish as she hurried down the sidewalk. Her head stayed down, her shoulders rounded as if trying to be invisible.
What are you doing, Dixon?I stopped and pressed my back against the brick wall of a brownstone. My intentions were good, but that didn’t change the fact that this was stalking. I wasn’t a creep.You sure about that?
I stepped away from the brownstone, planning to head in the opposite direction, but I couldn’t keep my eyes from seeking out Trish. She entered a building not far from where I stood. I waited a few minutes to make sure she didn’t come back out.
I should’ve let it go, but now that I’d seen where she’d gone, I couldn’tunseeit. I had to get a closer look.
The building fit into the style of the neighborhood, though it stood above its neighbors at five stories. A polished brass plate was engraved with the address on the left side of the entry. I committed it to memory then pulled out my phone to notate it. With all that crowded in my mind, I couldn’t trust that when I got down the street I’d remember.
The massive wooden front door swung open. I jumped back, inwardly cursing myself for the move. A woman who appeared to be in her early thirties gave me an inquisitive stare. It was as if she knew she’d caught me doing something I shouldn’t be. My guilt felt like it covered me in a giant red flag.
“Are you lost?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. Her black hair fluttered in the breeze, a strand of it getting caught on her lip gloss. She pulled it away with frustrated force, her eyes leveling me where I stood.
“Just answering a quick email.” I waved my phone at her. “Walking and typing is hazardous for your health.” I smiled, but she still looked suspicious.
“Loitering can be too.” She lifted an expectant brow and might as well have told me to move it along.
“Enjoy your evening.”
As I moved down the street, I searched for the address, discovering that it belonged to Paths of Purpose . . . a women’s shelter?
I scrolled through their website. The good things the shelter did for women and children took me by surprise. Not only did they provide accommodations for those who needed shelter, but once they left, they still had the option to participate in Paths of Purpose’s programs.
