Page 16 of An Eye For Illusion

I clear my throat. This is going downhill fast. “I know of him. I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting him yet.” The elevator slows. Almost to the ground floor, and I’m home free.

“Hm, I see.” As soon as the words leave his lips, heaven shines down upon me, and mercifully, the elevator stops, and the doors slide open.

“Mr. Foster,” I say with a nod as I step off the elevator and walk quickly toward the parking deck.

“I didn’t get your name,” he calls as I walk away.

I don’t turn back, and thankfully, he makes no effort to follow me.

As soon as my shoes hit the concrete of the parking garage, I jog to my blacked-out sedan. I slam the door closed, start the engine, and squeal the tires backing out of the parking spot. Only once I’m on the road do I sigh in relief as my heart still pounds in my chest.

That was close, too fucking close.

“How’s your case going?” Donovan asks over the phone as I push the refrigerator door closed.

I pop some leftovers in the microwave. My phone is on the counter beside Elliott Moore’s schedule for the week. Donovan and I are close. We call each other to check in periodically. We make time even if things are busy. He called just as I got home from Jade’s office.

“Eh, my client is a real pain in the ass, and the subject… Well, I haven’t found anything on him.” I can hear the frustration in my own voice.

“What’s the deal? The story behind you being hired to begin with.”

We always share case details with one another. It helps if we need an outside perspective or need to let one of the others know when we’re walking into a potential situation. We can’t talk about cases or clients with anyone outside the agency. That’s how we grew closer in the beginning, but there’s a real brotherhood at Dunn.

“That’s the more frustrating part. I don’t think my client, Jade, is being straight with me. The subject is her fiancé, but she hasn’t given me any real reason she has me following him. She wants me to just, and I quote, ‘find something.’”

“Hmm. Sounds like she wants out of the engagement. She wants you to find her an out.” Donovan has worked plenty of cases, not as a private investigator but as a bodyguard. He’s quite skilled at profiling people.

“Yeah, I get that, but I don’t know why. She e-mails me his schedule every week, so I can anticipate each move. Most of the time, he sticks to it. With the exception of a little dive bar he stops at every now and then, there isn’t much.”

“You think there’s something shady about the bar?”

“Without a doubt. When I followed Moore there, he was waiting for someone. The bartender told the waitress to tell him his friend wasn’t coming. When she did, Moore stormed out of there so fast he bumped into her and damn near knocked the poor girl flat on her ass. I tailed him for a while, but it seemed to me he figured that out, which I found interesting as well. I didn’t want to push, so I turned around and went back to the bar. The bartender told me the guy Moore was waiting for was someone named Vinny, and Mr. Vinny is a regular there. He has his own table in the back of the bar. I’m sure there’s something there, but it’s pretty well hidden so far.”

The microwave beeps, and I open the door, grab the glass plate that is much hotter than I expected, and burn the hell out of my fingers in the process. I set the plate on the counter with a clatter, turning back to close the microwave.

“Sounds like you’re struggling over there, bud,” Donovan says with a chuckle.

I inspect my fingers, but they’re just a little red. “You have no idea.” I leave the plate on the counter and cut into everything, dividing it up so it cools faster. I need to eat quickly and get ready to head out to follow Moore tonight.

“What’s on the schedule for tonight?”

With one hand, I slide the schedule across the counter so I can scan over it again while stabbing a bite of food with the other, blowing on it a few times before shoving it in my mouth. It’s still too hot, but not lava like I expected with the heat that just seared into my hand from the damn plate.

I look down through the schedule, then swallow. “Looks like he’ll hit the gym, then meet Jade for dinner.” A strange, uncomfortable buzzing feeling fills my stomach when I read dinner with Jade on his schedule. Maybe the leftover lasagna has gone bad.

“Shoot me a text with the address to the bar. I’ll check it out while you’re on the scheduled trail.”

“You sure?”

I toss the rest of the lasagna in the trash and put my plate in the sink. I’ll grab something while I’m out. That lasagna is probably what’s making my stomach queasy.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I don’t have an assignment right now, and I’m bored out of my fucking mind. Give me a little piece of the action, C.”

“Sure thing. Thanks, man. I appreciate your help. I’ll send it now. I have to get going. I need to find somewhere to get parked before he gets to the gym.”

“Anytime. See ya.”

“Later.”

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