by Julia Derek
As my eyes moved through all the commotion, they did a double take when they reached an unfamiliar, sandy blond man with a thin, scruffy beard. He was looking right at me and he did not seem at all pleased with what he saw. But the second I noted his gaze on me, he lowered it toward the big newspaper spread over the table where he sat alone.
I took him in. He appeared to be in his early to mid-thirties and while handsome and with a well-built physique, I didn’t get the sense that he was another of the many new trainers at the club. Not only did he have an air of corporate professional to him, but he wore a brown, formal sweater and dress pants that further reinforced my assumption. Trainers rarely lunched in outfits other than some type of relaxed, athletic gear.
I willed him to return my stare so I could figure out why he’d seemed so annoyed with me, but he insisted on keeping his gaze firmly on the newspaper now. As far as I could tell, he was still irked because he appeared to be scowling. What was his problem?
Did he recognize me?
In that case, did he recognize me as Annika, the Swedish trainer, or as Nick’s wife? If the latter, he must have something to do with Nick’s death.
Just the thought of this caused fury tempered with a heap of anxiety to stream through my veins. The way he had glowered at me suggested he had some interest in me and not in a good way. I inhaled quietly through my nose to steady the sudden churning in my stomach.
“Yeah, that one’s pretty cute,” Emma said and placed a bottle of water before me. “In a moody, gruff kind of way.”
I jerked so hard the table shook slightly at her sudden appearance. Turning toward her, I couldn’t help but chuckle at my overreaction, then I rolled my eyes at myself.
“Who’s that guy?” I asked, keeping my voice down even though the mystery man was too far away to be able to hear us. And even if he had been seated right next to our table, the buzz in the big cafeteria was loud enough to drench out our conversation. The grim expression on his face made me uneasy, which was why I’d felt compelled to use the unnecessary caution.
Emma shrugged. “I have no idea. Never seen him before. Could be someone from ABC News having lunch here. They often come here what with their offices being across the street. Or from one of the other businesses around here. Lately this cafeteria has been gaining in popularity among professionals in the area. I definitely don’t think he works here.”
“I see,” I said, eager to switch the subject. The more I looked at him now—we were both practically staring at the man, who kept ignoring us—the more unsettling I found his presence. I wished that I had never noticed him in the first place. I was suddenly convinced he had something to do with Nick’s death and that he knew who I really was.
Why else would he be glaring at me like that?
Goosebumps formed on my arms as the unease kept expanding within me, which annoyed me since I should really be pleased to have gotten a lead so quickly. It had soon dawned on me that, while my gut told me the answer to Nick’s death would be found in New York City, I was still fumbling in the dark, having no idea what to look for. Besides, this guy would hardly do anything to me in broad daylight, in front of so many witnesses. I was armed myself and a very good shot was he to try something.
Yes, spotting this man is a good thing, Gabi, I told myself in my head. It means you can get your revenge sooner rather than later. That was what you came for in the first place, you silly girl! If you can just make sure he doesn’t get to you before you get to him, you’re set.
But thinking these thoughts didn’t make me feel much calmer. What was going on? Had Nick’s murder made me lose all the confidence I’d gained while working for the LAPD as well as the FBI? Not that I’d been insecure before, but successfully taking down gun and knife-wielding crooks twice your size and dealing with psychopathic criminals in high stress situations tended to make you believe in yourself like never before. I had proven both to my superiors and to myself that I was an excellent cop who could defend herself well while solving tough, dangerous cases. Because of my efforts in taking down Cardoza, I’d been able to skip several ranks and been promoted to level two detective as soon as I returned from New York. I was the first officer in the LAPD who’d climbed the ladder that swiftly.
Emma smiled at me, her round face lit with excitement. “You like him? He’s definitely hot. Looks like he could be Swedish. He reminds me of a trainer who used to work here. Of course, she was female. Still, he has that look.”
It took all I had to control the urge I had to stare at her. That just had to have been a totally random comment. There hadn’t been an ounce of sarcasm in Emma’s tone and her face remained innocent-looking. Yes, of course it was just random… I really shouldn’t be that surprised; everyone used to tell me that I, as Annika, looked so incredibly Swedish, which I had found hilarious since I was Latina, albeit a light-skinned one.
“He’s pretty hot,” I said, “but I don’t think he’s Swedish. He looks more Eastern European to me.”
“If we know his name, we should be able to determine where he’s from. We can always ask the front desk people”—she nodded at the front desk visible from where we sat—“if he’s a member or just a guest. He’d have to sign the list there to get in here for lunch as a guest. They might remember him if we do it now. You want me to go ask them?”
“No, no, that’s okay,” I replied quickly. I smiled at her. “I just thought he looked like someone I used to know is all. But the more I look at him, the more I see that it’s not the same person.”
One of the Hispanic kitchen workers behind the long lunch counter called out our names, letting us know our food was ready, saving me from having to discuss this further. If I was going to learn this guy’s name, I preferred doing so when Emma wasn’t around. After that comment about him reminding her about Annika, I’d better keep her at arm’s length. Random or not, it had been weird. But I appreciated that she’d confirmed for me a trainer could still find out about members and visitors to the club by talking to the front desk people. As soon as our lunch was over, I’d head over there and ask them about him.
I got to my feet. “Let me get it.” I motioned for Emma to stay seated.
Hurrying over to the cashier where all finished courses were brought, I grabbed the tray with my stir fry and Emma’s turkey wrap. On my way back to her, I nearly bumped into one of the other trainers I used to be friendly with—Burt, a good-looking black male who always wore the most outlandishly colored contacts, causing him to appear alien. He wore the Nikkei trainer’s uniform, which consisted of a black shirt with the words “Nikkei Trainer” and plain black pants or tights. I hadn’t seen him in all the time I had been here, so I had assumed he was no longer working at the club despite being very attractive, intelligent and hard-working. It was great to see that he was still here. He must have been away.
Our eyes met and he smiled at me. Nothing in his expression suggested that he recognized me, thankfully. It was too bad I had to act like I didn’t know him as I would have loved to catch up with him, see how life had treated him; now we’d have to start over.
After I returned with our food, Emma and I continued to talk, mostly about how life in New Mexico was, which I totally winged. I had barely taken a look at the city I was supposedly from, Rio Rancho. It was just another medium-sized city in our country, nothing special after all.
Then Emma had to go because she had a client and I was alone.
Great, now I can go up to the front desk and ask about the guy, I thought. The people working there could easily see him from where they were—well, if they turned around. My eyes went to the blond man’s table, but, much to my disappointment, he was gone. All that was left of him was the big newspaper he’d been reading. The New York Times, it looked like from where I sat.
I searched the spacious cafeteria area hoping to spot him somewhere, but he was nowhere to be seen.
Damn. This was not good. I needed to find out who he was. I pondered whether to go up to the fro
nt desk and ask the receptionists about him even though there was no one to point out for them. I chewed on my lower lip. What would I tell them? I didn’t know the people working there and they didn’t know me either since I had just started at the club. Asking them to try to dig up the name of a thirty-something dude whose only identifying traits were that he was sandy blond and had a faint beard would just sound odd. Even if they agreed, with all the people entering the club at noon, it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack for the receptionists.
I sighed. I should just forget about it. It wasn’t much I could do but be extra careful from now on. Maybe that look hadn’t meant as much as I had initially thought. Maybe the guy had just eaten something bad, which had made him look so grim right as he laid eyes on me. Or maybe I’d just reminded him of someone he didn’t like and he hadn’t been able to hide this fact. I didn’t think we’d met before. He had a fairly distinct look about him, so I’d surely have remembered him.
Also, this guy hadn’t looked like a man involved in the criminal underworld, the kind Nick had been so deeply immersed in. Nothing about him had said Mexican cartel member.
A shiver of extreme discomfort went through me as an image of Nick’s slashed back suddenly materialized in my head. I closed my eyes for a moment.
“Rats always get what they deserve.”
There had been so much blood… I could only hope he was already dead before the sadists had carved that sentence directly into his body. Sadly, knowing how cruel Cardoza and his cohorts were, he’d probably been alive. It was more likely that they had taken their time marking his body and enjoyed every moment of it. The cloth stuffed into my husband’s mouth could have been there to muffle the screams that had surely come out of Nick’s mouth as they had applied those other cuts and punctures to his body. To his face and eyes.
Ice cold and feeling like I was about to throw up the stir fry I had just finished, I opened my eyes and forced the horrible images out of my mind. Then I rubbed my arms to feel better.
I took my plate, silverware and emptied water bottle and went to the area where the trash was kept in the cafeteria. I threw the bottle and placed the plate and utensils in the designated spots. I decided to take a walk in Central Park, get some fresh air before it was time for me to do my afternoon floor shift. It was sunny and rather warm out for an afternoon in late March, so I should enjoy it having been inside most of the day.
I didn’t run into anyone else I knew as I kept walking to the elevators that would take me down to the lobby and out onto the street. When I pressed the button to get the elevator, I thought about how Brady believed I was in Hungary now. I was lucky to have become very good friends with George, our IT guy at the station as well as a masterful hacker. He was the other reason I’d been able to pull off my stunt. Not only had George ensured it showed in American Airlines’ records that I’d boarded my connecting flight to Hungary in New York when I hadn’t, but he’d also taken care of my email situation. Each time I sent an email, my IP address showed that I was in Europe, not in the states still. Not that I thought Brady would ever check on me, but in case he did, he would have no reason to believe I actually wasn’t where I’d claimed.
Having deceived him to his face, I didn’t think Brady would have my back the way he had when he’d pushed for me to get the undercover job being a rookie cop, assuring everyone I had the goods. He was big on ethics and I’d promised him I’d go straight to Hungary. He would be so disappointed to realize I’d lied to him. My career in law enforcement would be over.
I supposed I could live with not ever getting to be a cop again. What I couldn’t live with was not having at least tried to find Nick’s killer.
Chapter 4
There was a light breeze when I got outside the health club that smelled faintly of blooming trees mixed with exhaust and something else I couldn’t define. Manhattan had always had its distinct smell, one of the things I’d missed about it when I left. It had taken me a while to get used to the hectic city, but when I had, I was addicted and it took me several weeks to stop wishing I was still there after returning to the West Coast.
New York City, while often rough and scary and unfriendly, definitely had its charm.
I inhaled deeply as I began walking toward Central Park. Despite that I had rented an apartment close to the gym, I had yet to visit the park, my favorite part of the city. At least now I would get to enjoy it as often as I wanted, working and living so nearby, I mused bittersweetly.
I checked my smartphone and discovered that I had less time available to take a walk than I had counted on. Only forty-five minutes. I’d better make the most of them.
I picked up my pace and quickly reached the wide entrance to the park and walked inside. I couldn’t help but smile as I took in its splendor. Many of the trees that competed for space along the asphalted walkways were already green and luscious and flowers, bright and colorful, sprouted in several places. Squirrels ran across the bright green grass and up tree trunks, dogs played with each other and fetched balls their owners threw. All kinds of people milled around the famous landmark: joggers and bikers, mothers with baby carriages, couples holding hands, tourists snapping photos, professionals taking a break from the office to steal a bit of fresh air.
I still spotted the man from the club cafeteria almost instantly.
He was walking along the large, hemmed in grass field known as the Sheep Meadow where plenty of people were sitting or lying down, many directly on the grass and wearing little, enjoying the sunny, pleasant weather. Looking straight ahead, he was talking to someone on a cell phone. He was only about fifteen yards away from me and, as far as I could tell, he hadn’t noticed me yet. He made a turn as he reached the edge of the narrow Sheep Meadow and now his back was toward me.
Having no specific destination in mind, I decided that I might as well use my break to see what he was up to. Maybe I had written him off a little too quickly. It seemed too much of a coincidence that I’d run into him again and especially so soon. Maybe fate was trying to tell me something, push me in the right direction by having me spot him so easily in the crowds of people.
Wishing that I had access to a baseball hat that I could wear to hide my face, I did the second best—I found my sunglasses in my purse. Someone had sat on them by mistake at work, breaking the frames, which was why I had chosen not to wear them despite that the sun shone brightly from a cloud free sky. Putting them on anyway, I also lowered my head to make myself as inconspicuous as I could while setting after the man. He kept walking along Sheep Meadow toward the eastside of Manhattan at a brisk pace, weaving through others who were sauntering along like they didn’t have a care in the world.
My object walked the way someone did when they had a purpose in mind.
I used the same pace as he did, maintaining about fifteen yards between us. It helped that there were several people ahead of me that I could quickly hide behind in case he turned around all of a sudden.
By the time we had passed the football-sized lawn and were heading toward the eastside exit of the very long but very narrow park, there were suddenly a lot fewer people for me to hide behind. The majority of them were suddenly heading either north or south as they reached the wide asphalted passage at the other side of Sheep Meadow. I kept virtual fingers crossed that Mystery Man didn’t sense I was following him. He had stopped talking on the phone and put it in his pant pocket, walking even faster now. I was a fast walker myself, but this one had me half running to keep up.
He got to the low stonewall that surrounded the entire park in which there were exits here and there. The traffic light that controlled Fifth Avenue, a road with multiple lanes that edged Central Park’s eastside, gave pedestrians the right of way at the moment. The blond man crossed it quickly. I was running to catch the light before it turned red and didn’t make it, angry drivers honking as I snuck in front of their cars. I raised an apologetic hand, mouthing “sorry” to as many as I could. As I kept weaving through
all the cars, I watched how the man disappeared behind the corner of the building closest to the next cross street.
Damn, I thought as I finally stepped onto the curb on the other side of the avenue. He’d better not disappear on me again. I dashed up to the edge of the building and stopped, peering around the corner. I relaxed when I spotted him walking down the street. Walking slower now, I set after him. Where was he going?
I scurried after him faster than before so he wouldn’t cross Madison Avenue that was quickly creeping up ahead of him and leave me stuck on the other side because the street light had turned red and cars began to move. The distance between us shortened drastically to a paltry seven, eight yards.
But when he reached the end of the block, instead of crossing Madison Avenue he stopped and raised a hand, scanning the street.
He must be looking for a cab. I stopped dead in my tracks. If he turned around right now, he would no doubt see me—and see me clearly—as no one was between us. Barring an old couple that had come out of a store and just passed me, the street was completely empty.
I held my breath as I thought about what to do. Stay in place and hope he kept looking ahead? There was a restaurant to my left that I could run into and peek out from, wait until he got a cab. Then I could get one of my own and follow his. I’d come up with a plausible excuse if necessary to explain why I was late for my shift. The way my gut was screaming, telling me I needed to know more about this man, was just too loud to ignore.
Deciding the chance he’d turn around was even smaller now, I remained in the street.
It felt like forever as the two of us stood there on the quiet sidewalk, he waving indignantly after yellow cabs and me staring at him. I was beginning to expect that he would give up and take the bus instead he was having such a hard time. But then one suddenly took a sharp turn and slid up beside him.