So, they were watching Zo?’s place. It made sense. Her Chicken Little act had exposed him. It made it essential that he snatch her the next time around.
He felt his blood pressure build up in his veins and stared at his white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel. A hot head wouldn’t help him here. He had to be calm and relaxed if he was to get to Zo? again. He let his tension bleed from him.
He wondered how long the cops would stake out Zo?’s apartment. A day? A week? Longer? He was ruing his failure to grab her last night. It was forcing his hand. With all the police interest surrounding Zo? now, he needed to adjust his plans. He was still a ghost when it came to law enforcement. They had a dumb name for him, and that was about it. He could back off and just keep tabs on Zo? for now. He could always take her after the police had lost interest.
But there was something about walking away from unfinished business that didn’t sit well with him. Running away was failure. Failure was cowardice. And one thing he wasn’t was a coward.
Besides, if he left town, what stopped her from doing the same? He’d hate to come back and find that she’d upped and run too. Yes, he knew her name, but there was nothing stopping her from changing it.
It was all very frustrating, but it illustrated to him that he needed to be on his game in the future. No more mistakes. No more failures. He couldn’t allow himself to be caught.
He climbed from his SUV again. Even though the cops were there, he needed to check on Zo? herself. If there was a cop on the outside, was there also one with her in the apartment?
Since the cops didn’t have a good description of him, he could stroll up to the apartment gates, but the cop who was watching the place might be logging everyone who went in and out of the building. Luckily, he didn’t need to go into the complex to observe Zo?’s place. He simply needed to get to a neighboring rooftop.
He crossed the street and walked into the building next to Zo?’s complex. A security door prevented him getting access to the stairwell, but it didn’t stop him from getting to the fire escape in the back. He climbed the stairs to the rooftop, pulled out a pocket set of binoculars, and peered over at Zo?’s apartment. The drapes were drawn, and the lights were off.
Was she in there? If she wasn’t, why were the cops staking out her place? If they weren’t watching out for her, then they had to be waiting for him. He needed to see how far the cops had taken this.
He descended the fire escape and rejoined the street, then circled the block before deciding his next move. He needed an up-close look at Zo?’s apartment to know if she was in there. It meant crossing in front of the stakeout cop. So be it.
He bided his time and waited for someone to drive in and open the security gate. As the gate slid open, he slid in. He crossed the parking lot to Zo?’s building. He didn’t bother climbing the stairs to the second floor. He didn’t have to. From the street level, he could see the police tape sealing off her front door.
That was interesting. If Zo?’s apartment was considered a crime scene, where was she? Was she staying with a friend? It was possible, but he hadn’t seen her with anybody. She seemed to be a loner. Had Zo? skipped town without the cops’ knowledge? Maybe the police hadn’t staked out the place, looking for him. Maybe they were waiting to see if and when she would return.
He scanned the parking lot, and there was Zo?’s motorcycle. Now, she might have skipped town without taking her bike, but it was unlikely. Zo? was somewhere and somewhere close.
It was time to leave. He’d learned all that he could tonight.
A young woman with long, curly hair pulled her Honda Civic into the driveway, activating the security gate. He walked out as the car swept in.
Averting his gaze from the stakeout cop, he crossed the street and headed back to his SUV before casting a glance over his shoulder. The woman who had been driving the Honda was now on the second floor of Zo?’s building. She stopped in front of Zo?’s apartment.
He watched her from his vantage point across the street. Who are you, young lady—friend, nosy neighbor, or something more?
The woman ignored the police seal and let herself into Zo?’s apartment.
Well, what do you know? Zo? does have a friend. He smiled.
He returned to his Honda and got behind the wheel. It was a half hour before the woman reemerged, carrying a bulging gym bag.
“Well, Zo? can’t be expected to live without her essentials,” he said to himself.
He gunned his engine and waited for the Honda Civic to emerge. When it did, he tailed the small sedan. The stakeout cop didn’t react, so he obviously knew about Zo?’s little helper.
He followed the Honda through the city to US 101 and across the Golden Gate Bridge into Marin, keeping a discreet distance from the Civic. The driver didn’t show any signs that she’d spotted him. Neither did she drive like someone who expected to be followed.