The next day they spent another four hours staking out the familiar corners with no further luck. Tedium brought them to explore the city, with the rationale that the man could just as easily be at the Cathedral of Quito or at the State of Virgin of El Panecillo, on the mountain for which it was named, or in the streets of the historic Old Town, the first ever to be named a National Heritage Site.
The cathedral was exquisite, overshadowing even the other gothic cathedrals in town. The spacious sanctuary was gorgeous—well-polished wooden pews, ornate altar, statues of saints, incredible stained-glass windows. They took the stairs to the upper levels, giving them an even more elevated view of the city, spread out on the rolling hills beneath the cathedral. The exterior was festooned with statues of iguanas, monkeys, and other creatures native to the incredibly bio-diverse region.
They walked across the narrow wooden planks leading across the attic above the sanctuary, wood creaking to remind Greer that they could conceivably fall through the wood and through the roof of the sanctuary. It would be a thirty-foot fall onto the hard wooden pews.
She kept walking, Sean behind her, still a protective and loving presence.
They took a ladder up to a high landing on one spire, the highest point of the cathedral. Around them, tourists were backing away, frightened of the height. But Greer and Sean had both been through too much, together and separately, to be afraid of such a thing.
There was too much else out there to be frightened of.
The cathedral featured a wide, L-shaped courtyard, which was lined with a restaurant, shops, and other things to delight and exploit the tourists. It was just the kind of place a man like their target might go, but she couldn’t imagine why.
Who is this guy? Greer wondered. What’s he doing here? What are we doing here?
They took the red double-decker tourist bus from the cathedral to the statue called Virgin of El Panecillo, built in 1976 by Spaniard Agustín de la Herrán Matorras on the top of Panecillo, overlooking the city. Quito had been founded in a valley that runs along the top of the Andes mountains, with active volcanoes sprinkled throughout the chain. It gave Quito a jagged, rugged shape, a monument to the determination of the human will. The statue was impressive, comprised of seven thousand small pieces, a mosaic in three dimensions.
Two Andean dancers in colorful skirts and vests and other historic garb did what looked like an ancient, ritualistic dance for the tourists as a line of food vendors offered fried dough and hamburgers.
But there was no sign of their target, and Greer found it harder and harder to imagine that there would be. They got back on the bus, on the open, upper level, and took in the city on their way back to the hotel.
Greer sighed as she surveyed the lesser parts of town, tenement buildings packed side by side, little houses built of doors nailed together, some buildings with no facades at all, the rooms within open to public scrutiny. Laundry hung on lines, and children sat playing with cheap dolls and rubber balls.
Sean clearly noticed her upset, looking over to ask, “You okay?”
“Yeah, it’s just sad to see all this poverty, especially when there’s so much luxury in other parts of town.”
He nodded. “No different than back home, really.”
Greer knew he was right, and she determined then to do more about that as soon as she got back. She also knew that wasn't the only thing on her mind or in her heart. “Also, all this … I dunno, Sean. I’m beginning to think it’s hopeless. I mean, we don’t know who this guy is. I still think the odds are he’s just a remarkably similar-looking man. I mean, it’s unusual for sure, but it does happen … doesn’t it?”
“I suppose. But I wouldn’t have dragged you all the way here for some guy who resembled your husband.”
That made sense, but it was also ominous. It didn’t mean that he didn’t still have other reasons for bringing her to Quito beyond a man with a mere physical resemblance.
But the hairs on the back of Greer’s neck stood on end as the bus rolled past a restaurant with patio seating. A man was seated with a pretty, dark-skinned, black-haired woman, a striking contrast to his blond hair, blue eyes, and pale complexion, the spitting image of Spencer Lange.
“Sean,” she rasped, “I think that’s him!”
The bus was just rolling by, but Sean had time for a good look before the bus passed them. “Let’s get off this damn thing!”
Chapter Fourteen
Sean said to the driver, “We need to get off the bus, please.”
He rattled off something in Spanish that Greer didn’t understand, but Sean answered back, “Tenemos que bajarnos de este autobús. Es una emergencia médica.”
Greer felt them getting further and further away from their target.
The bus driver answered Sean, “Que emergencia? El autobús tiene paradas programadas, señor.”
“Just stop this goddamned bus or I’m going to scream!” Greer shouted.
“Bien, bien,” the bus driver said, pulling over and bringing the big bus to a stop. “Loca gringo perra.”
“Cuida tu lenguaje,” Sean said before they stepped out of the bus and onto the sidewalk, the red bus belching a cloud of black smoke into their faces as it rolled away.
“What was that you said?” she asked.
“Told him to watch it. Let’s go.” They walked back toward the cafe, Greer’s heart beating fast. Sean said, “Stand on my right, don’t look at him directly, and once we walk past, don’t look back. Got it?”
“I’m not an idiot,” she said, thinking it out before adding, “but I got it.” They approached the cafe with a leisurely gait despite Greer’s nervous inclination to rush past faster so as not to be seen. But Sean was in control, as always, and she followed his lead, her arm looped through his as they strolled up to the cafe.
Even from behind her sunglasses, Greer could see the man’s face clearly as he chatted with his lovely Latina companion. Her blood ran cold as they got closer, and she held onto Sean for support as they neared him. She faced directly forward, but her eyes clung to their target as she walked past. Her knees went weak, her heart sputtering and twitching in her chest. Sean seemed to feel that, holding her tighter as they walked past the table and onward down the street with no indication that she’d been spotted.
As they walked on, Sean whispered, “Well?”
“I … I don’t know what to say. He … it could be him! It could be Spencer himself!”
“All right then,” Sean said, stopping to glance around. “We can’t afford to let him get away again.” He pulled Greer around the corner. “Okay, you wait here, and I’ll scope out the cafe. He comes this way, you be ready to report back. He goes the other way, and I’ll do the same. Take the parallel street and run like hell to get ahead of him.”
“I know the plan,” she said. “Wait … how many blocks ahead should I go?”
“Your gut’ll tell you.” He gave her a kiss on the lips and said, “Good luck” before turning to walk back down the street with a casual gait.
Greer stepped back and waited, pulling out her smartphone to pull up the FaceTime app. After a few swipes and taps, the app pulled up, and she was looking at what Sean’s phone camera was seeing, a sideways view of the shops and cafes as he walked back past the very place where the man and the Latina were eating. Even with that disjointed perspective, Greer got chills. Who is he? It’s not just some stranger. That would be … it’s not possible … or is it?
But the alternatives were looming, previously unreasonable but seeming suddenly likely.
I suppose there could be a twin brother, and if there is, he certainly could and would be the one behind Spencer’s murder. Family money, personal grievances. And most murders are committed by a family member, aren’t they?
She waited, the seconds stretching out in front of her. Heart beating fast, goosebumps rising, all Greer could do was wait, coiled like a snake ready not to pounce.
Finally Sean said from the phone, “He’s co
ming my way … alone.”
“The girl’s coming this way? Should I follow her?”
“Negative, execute as planned.”
Greer turned and ran down the short block to the next long boulevard heading north. She ran past several tourists, a stray dog turning with a start, barking and snapping at her as she ran on. She had to cross another street, but the red light kept her waiting. She knew she had to get well ahead of their target, so she pushed ahead across the street. Cars screeched to a halt at her side, horns honking as she ran onto the next side of the street and further down the boulevard to intercept the man she was sure was Spencer Lange’s twin brother.
Greer ran down another block, suddenly certain that if she ran too far, the man could turn the corner before she spotted him and slip out of their admittedly shoddy net. She turned a hard right and ran down the short block back to the first big boulevard, just in time to assume a casual stance, glancing at the posted menu of a restaurant she happened to stop at. A young man started jabbering at her in Spanish, obviously trying to coax her in for a meal, shoving a copy of the same menu at her, opening the pages in front of her.
But Greer’s attention was on their target as he strolled past. He didn’t pay her any mind at all, moving forward down the boulevard. She turned from the waiter and raised the smartphone to her face. “Moving ahead, same direction.”
Greer wanted to turn away, but she couldn’t resist getting yet another close look at the guy as he passed. By then she was looking at his back, but even so she would swear that she was looking at her dead husband resurrected. Even his stance was the same, bent just a bit to his left in what he jokingly called a gangsta lean.
“Heads up,” Greer whispered into the phone. But when no answer came back, she double-checked her phone. The app had quit. She would have to swipe through the applications window to find the app and pull it up again if she wanted to reconnect with Sean, but there was no time.
No matter how dangerous it was, she had to follow her target, walking behind him, or they’d lose him for sure.
Greer kept an even pace, not wanting to get too close. Her eyes were locked on him as pedestrians crossed between them, walking in one direction or the other. He seemed to be slowing down, and she became instantly nervous that he was aware of her. He stopped, and she knew she had to keep walking. Her glasses and new hair gave her some disguise, and she could only hope it was enough as she walked right past him. She could feel his eyes on her, but she knew she had to keep going as if absolutely unaware of him.
Behind her and in the corner of her eye, Greer saw the man cross the street.
Damn it, he’s onto me! I blew it! I blew it!
So she turned and stepped into the nearest shop, filled with carved masks and statues of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza. She stopped and peered through the storefront window to see her target walking down the street and going into a shop with liquor bottles and water pipes on the glass display shelves.
She pulled up the app again and swiped and pressed until Sean reappeared on the screen. “What the hell, Greer?”
“The app quit—it’s not my fault.”
“Where is he?”
“Went into a … a head shop or something about a block down from where I was.”
“Yeah, I think I see the place. He could be waiting for you to leave, but we know what direction he’s heading in. Where are you?”
“Gift shop across the street.”
“Head back in the other direction. I’ll pick it up from where you are. You hopscotch down another three blocks and wait.”
“I dunno, Sean. I … I think he saw me.”
“Really? Did he recognize you?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. But he stopped, looked back, then crossed the street.”
After taking a moment to consider, he said, “Might just have been crossing the street. Don’t take any chances though. Keep your head down. Let’s move.”
“Right.”
Greer stepped out of the gift shop with as casual an air as she could assume and walked back where she’d come from, ignoring the head shop across the street.
When she reached the next side street, she immediately started running to the next boulevard and further down. She moved with a new swiftness and smoothness, coordination kicking in. She bobbed and weaved between the other pedestrians as she reached the end of one block, dodging the cars to hit another long stretch.
Greer ducked around and walked back to the corner of the first boulevard. She felt good, strong, smart. They were making progress, she could tell. She stopped and glanced around for a distraction, something or someone to hide behind before their target arrived. She could only imagine what would happen if he spotted her again, maybe not recognizing her as Greer Lange, but still as a woman who kept popping up in front of him, three times in a single ten-minute stretch.
And after a minute or two, he didn’t walk by at all.
Shit, Greer thought. She pulled the phone up to her face. “Any luck?”
“Not yet.”
She waited a minute or two more but became convinced he’d gotten away from them. She pushed back up the big boulevard, glancing around for their target without spotting him. Might have turned onto a side street, she reasoned, looking up and down both sides. Her heart leaped when she spotted him, and she walked straight in that direction, faster to make sure he didn’t get away again.
The tide of pedestrians seemed to be pushing against her, her target keeping steadily ahead of her. He stopped again, and Greer was struck with a bolt of panic, certain she’d given herself away. But instead of turning to look behind himself, he walked up to a big building with shops on the bottom and apartments above. He walked past the stores and into the lobby of the building, where two windows had signs reading Para Aquiler.
Greer turned and moved back in the other direction, raising the phone to say, “I think we got him. One block west, on the street with the big blue-and-white castle thing, you know what I’m talking about?”
“Yeah,” Sean said. “Fade back—he’s probably watching you through the window.”
“Got it. I’ll be on the corner.”
Chapter Fifteen
Sean hurried around the block toward a blue-and-white castle, looking almost like it had once been the centerpiece of the world’s most elaborate miniature golf course.
Wow, he thought, she did it. She really did it. How many people, man or woman, could have jumped blocks like that, kept their cool, and triangulated him this way? She’s got some real balls, Greer has.
My kind of woman.
It also promised good things to come—they’d actually managed to find him and then follow him back to his lair. It was a real victory for them both, and for them as a couple. She’d identified him to be of interest, perhaps even her late husband himself.
I wouldn’t be surprised. But she knows now that I know what I’m doing, which she must have doubted somewhere along the line, probably the moment I showed her those pictures. But she knows now.
Sean had to caution himself against being too enthusiastic, too ready to claim victory. The man still had to be confronted, and that could be dangerous. Sean was confident that he could handle the man in close combat. And Greer was proving herself more and more resourceful by the minute. But she was still smaller, not as strong or experienced, and that could always become a vulnerability.
And he loved her, which was his greatest vulnerability.
Sean walked to the end of the block and looked around—no sign of Greer anywhere. Pedestrians milled around, showing no visible interest in anything in particular as they went about their daily lives. For Sean and Greer, the moment was quite different. And that made the fact that he didn’t see Greer all the more worrisome.
He looked around at the buildings on the block, one or two apartment buildings on that side of the street alone, making it a likely spot. He looked around with more furtive glances, down one street and then the other.
&nbs
p; Could she have ducked into one of these little markets? No, she wouldn’t have abandoned her post. That’s not the Greer Lange I’m coming to know.
But that only left one reasonable possibility, and it was horrific.
What if he had spotted her from his apartment window, or he could have known she was following him, that we were following him. He might have come down and grabbed her, pulled her in, overpowered her. She’s good, but I have no idea how good he is, and he’s certainly a lot bigger than she is, whatever his real identity is.
Sean huffed as he kept looking around, his heart beating a little faster as he reviewed what the results and implications of such a thing could be.
Could be he’s a serial killer, Sean had to remind himself, reflecting on statistics alone. Unmarried single white man, no established roots. Or it could actually be Spencer Lange, who faked his own death to go on his killing spree. But then why not kill her instead of pretending to kill himself?
Sean scanned the area, knowing she could be nearby but silenced, that calling her name could do more harm than good, like everything else in that godforsaken investigation.
But a spark flashed in the back of his brain. Could she have meant east, not west? There are mountains on both sides of the city, and she just got here. That’d be a pretty easy mistake to make.
Sean turned and headed back down the street in the other direction, moving a bit faster than he normally would. He’d lost time, and those concerns he had about Greer were still valid. That bastard could have grabbed her off the street while Sean was waiting on that other block, whoever’s mistake it was.
He arrived at the corner with the blue-and-white castle, looking down the one-way street before crossing and scuttling down the block. He spotted her waiting on the corner, and she turned to greet him with an expression of abject relief, eyebrows arched.
Dead to You Page 7