Page 40 of The Woman with the Wallet

“Looks like I got a solid week or two,” he said, gaze moving over my face, his features going hard, then soft again for reasons I couldn’t begin to understand.

“I don’t think we have that long before someone moves those diamonds,” I reasoned.

“Yeah, you’re not wrong about that. Which is why I’m gonna ask if you’re willing to do the stakeout over the next day or two days.”

“Why do you make it sound like it’s not local?” I asked, suspicious.

“‘Cause it’s not.”

“How far away is it?” I asked.

“It’s upstate.”

“How far upstate?”

“Far enough that you’re gonna need to pack a bag.”

“Look, I get that I owe you half a million dollars, but not even that kind of debt is going to have me sleeping in a car with you.”

“Figure I could manage to rent a couple of rooms.”

“What the hell am I gonna tell Megs?”

“Does she know your exact work schedule?”

“No, not usually. I never want her to have to choose between lying to the cops and protecting me.”

“I get that. Same with my ma and sisters. Well, just tell her you got a job you couldn’t pass up. And since she’s gonna be busy with her partners, you figured there was no reason not to take it on.”

That could work. She would still have a million questions and more than a few concerns, but she wouldn’t be overly suspicious. I was always working. I could even be truthful to her about it being a stakeout.

“Alright. I can swing it,” I agreed. “What time do you want to head out?”

“Early. I’d like to get there before the place opens in the morning, get a good spot, watch everyone make their way in. Probably gotta be heading out of the city by five.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I agreed, checking the time on my phone. “Alright. Well, I should get going.”

“Yeah, me too,” he agreed, standing with me.

“Work?”

“DMV,” he corrected, looking pained. “Even the fucking License Express office could take hours.”

“I can’t imagine.”

“Do you drive?”

“Where the hell would I have learned to drive?” I asked, shaking my head as I slid into my boots.

“Fair enough.”

“Why do you drive? Aren’t you from the city?”

“Sort of. My parents moved us to Greenwich when there started to be too many of us to comfortably live in a city apartment. The commute isn’t bad, but you kinda gotta do it by car. Been living in the city for all my adult life, but having a car and a license comes in handy for more than visiting my parents.”

“Like doing stakeouts upstate.”

“Yeah,” he agreed as we both filed into the elevator. “Even if it comes with the headache of having to deal with the damn DMV.”

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