Page 52 of Be Very Quiet

Even though cameras were already in the parking lot, they’d added one of their own.

“I was checking to see if the person who paid off the messenger was caught on tape. He wasn’t, but see the guy there?” He pointed out a figure leaning against a light post, smoking a cigarette and talking on a phone. His focus was on Liliana’s place. He ended the call and tossed the butt on the pavement before grounding it out. Then he picked up a bag and headed inside.

“When was this?”

“Two days ago, around seven p.m. Keep watching.” Christian fast-forwarded until the man came outside and climbed into his vehicle. Instead of leaving, he waited until the studio closed at ten.

“Do you think he’s casing it?” Audria wondered.

There were a few cars in the lot. Liliana’s evening manager, Jody Brock, came outside with two other people, a man and a woman.

“That’s Georgia Perkins and Theo Harvey, the real estate agents next door,” Luca noted.

The trio walked to their vehicles, waved, and drove away. The man paused for a beat and then pulled out after them.

Christian hit the forward button again and stopped. The same car was in the lot. He zoomed in to show the man watching the building with binoculars.

“This was last night?”

“It was,” Christian confirmed.

“He is casing it,” Audria claimed.

“This time, he doesn’t go inside,” Christian informed them. “He watches and waits until everyone leaves again.”

“Can you get a look at his license plate?” Luca asked.

Christian shook his head. “I tried, but he’s got some kind of shield on it to make it impossible to see.”

That was never good. “We need to catch him in the act tonight,” Luca decided. “Liliana needs to stay late to teach a dance class, so we’ll ambush him.”

#

Audria stayed with Liliana inside the studio while Christian and Luca left the building, each headed in a different direction. They circled and came up to the watcher’s vehicle. This close, Luca could read the license plate, so he snapped a picture before creeping up to the driver’s side. The window was down. Good. Luca placed the barrel of his gun against the man’s temple.

“Don’t move a muscle. Hands where I can see them.”

The man froze, his eyes darting sideways from Luca to Christian, who’d stuck his gun through the passenger side window.

“Okay, okay, no itchy trigger fingers, fellas,” the man scolded. He placed his hands on the steering wheel.

Luca opened the door. “Now get out.”

The man sighed and slid outside. He was wearing a navy-blue tracksuit with white tennis shoes—no noticeable bulge from a weapon.

“Who are you?”

“Who are you?” the man shot back.

“I’m the one holding a gun to your spinal cord,” Luca drawled.

“I’ve got your cerebrum,” Christian added, coming around the car with his gun poised.

“Look, lower your pistols, okay? Reach into the glove compartment, and you’ll find my ID.”

Christian leaned in and popped the latch. He removed a brown leather wallet and flipped it open. “Robert Eckerd. Private Investigator.”

“You’re a PI?” Luca repeated.

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