Page 28 of Rival for Rent

I perched at the top of the wall for a second, scanning his backyard. Same plain patch of grass from last night, only now lit by bright daylight. I dropped down and crossed to the sliding doors.

Bella must have heard me, because she trotted up with her tongue out, tail wagging. Still no barking or signs of distress. Nothing but mild confusion.

“Sorry, girl,” I murmured. “No time to play right now. I have to make sure your stubborn asshole of a dad isn’t lying in a gutter somewhere.”

I gave her a wave and turned around. There was a path through Kai’s garden leading to another gate in the far wall, one that opened into the alley behind the house. It was locked too, butthat didn’t matter—I used the gate as a foothold and climbed over without much trouble.

As I dropped down into the alley, I let out a low, disgusted sound. It was way too easy for me to get in and out of Kai’s yard. Which meant it’d be just as easy for his stalker. Worse, there was a big leafy oak tree in his neighbor’s yard with low-hanging branches that could hide someone perched on the back wall, watching the place without anyone noticing.

I walked through the alley, then back up the path between the houses to the street. I doubted any of Kai’s neighbors were home—or if they were, they weren’t looking out their windows. Otherwise, someone should’ve called the cops on me by now. No wonder no one had seen the stalker dropping off those notes.

I glanced up and down the block. Too many hiding places. Some of the homes were built half a level above the street, with garden apartments tucked underneath. Others had wooden sheds hiding their trash and recycling bins. Trees lined the sidewalk. There were too many shadows. Too many ways for someone to lurk and wait for the right moment.

Still, as far as Kai had said—and I believed him—none of the attacks had happened at his home. Everything had gone down in public places: the metro station, his office, the theater. His stalker clearly knew where he lived but hadn’t used that knowledge for violence. Not yet, anyway.

I pressed my lips together. If I wanted to be thorough, I should check out his office next. Get a sense of what kind of risk he faced there. I didn’t know the name of his company, but a quick search would tell me. I pulled out my phone and started googling.

It didn’t take long. EnviraTech was located in a sleek glass building at L and 17th Streets NW. Another bus and some walking got me there faster than I expected.

I stood across the street from the address, watching a constant stream of employees and delivery guys go in and out of the building. Cars and trucks passed outside. A bus idled at the corner, disgorging passengers.

It was just another patch of D.C. Glass facades, chain coffee shops, overflowing public trash bins. Nothing remarkable about it. But the thought of Kai walking into this building every day made my chest tighten. It was too open. Too vulnerable.

I crossed the street, walked into the lobby, and checked the directory. EnviraTech was listed on the twelfth floor. I took the elevator up.

The receptionist at the front desk was blonde and chipper-looking. She smiled when I walked up.

“I’m here to see Kai Jacinto,” I said, slipping into my Marine-issue tone—firm, respectful, reassuring. The kind you used with civilians when you didn’t want to spook them.

“Do you have an appointment?” she asked, already glancing down at her computer. She probably didn’t need to check to know I wasn’t on the schedule.

“No, but he’ll want to see me,” I said. “Tell him it’s Mason Clark.”

He wouldn’t want to see me, but I was banking on the fact that he would come out and meet me to avoid me causing a scene. Assuming he wasn’t dead, that was.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “but Mr. Jacinto is actually out right now.”

I frowned. If he was out, that implied that he had at one point been in. Which meant he was still alive. Or at least he had been, the last time the receptionist saw him.

I was relieved—and angrier than ever.

“That’s okay. I’ll wait.”

She made a polite but slightly exasperated face. “He left for a site visit a few minutes ago. He could be gone for hours.”

A site visit. I blinked. Of course. The Butterfly Center.

“Do you want to leave a message or—?”

“No,” I said, already heading for the elevator. “No message. Thank you.”

I was looking up the center’s address before I even hit the lobby. It was over in Ivy City. Fantastic. Kai was really dragging me across the city today.

Another maze of buses and sidewalks later, I found myself standing outside an old warehouse on Fairview Ave NE. Construction trucks and vans lined the street. Men in hard hats came and went, carrying all kinds of building materials—drywall, PVC pipes, steel panels. No sign of Kai outside, so I headed towards the front doors, propped open with bricks.

“Hey, what are you doing?” called a voice behind me.

I turned, already preparing to explain myself, but it was only a construction guy, holding out a hard hat.

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