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He groans in pain but doesn’t answer my question.
“Do you really want to do this the hard way? I will get the answers out of you one way or another.”
“He usually sends me out to get random pieces of information. It’s never consistent and never jaw-dropping.”
That doesn’t sound like Rossi.
Is John lying to appease me?
“What was the last thing he had you do?”
“He had me count the number of houses on his street.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I just did what he asked.”
“How many houses were there?”
He looks at me with wide eyes. I’m even surprised to hear myself asking this.
“Thirteen.”
“What did he ask you to do before that?”
“Count the number of parking spaces at random businesses all around town.”
Was Rossi just seeing if John was loyal to him? This seems almost like an initiation, albeit different from the Marino initiation.
“And before that?”
There has to be something worth noting here.
“He told me to take pictures of different places around town.”
I give him a pointed look to explain, and he continues.
“I had to climb to the Tybee Island Lighthouse, face north toward South Carolina, and take photos of the water. I had to go to two different ports and take pictures of their loading docks.There was also a new club being built that I had to take pictures of during the framing stage.”
He takes a deep breath. “None of this made sense. It was like he was sending me on a wild goose chase, but secretly they already captured the goose.”
The lighthouse doesn’t make any sense. What could he want with the dual state waters?
The ports could be my family owned port and the east port they switched our cargo order to.
I have no doubt the new club Rossi had John photograph is ours. The same one that is re-opening soon.
Why does Rossi want pictures of the framing? The blueprints are public knowledge. All he’d have to do is make a trip downtown and request a copy.
“Is there anything else Rossi had you do? Big or small?”
“Well, I-” He glances down at the ground and stops mid-sentence.
“You what?”
“I had to get addresses and photographs of three women. I had to show him where they go during the day, where they live, what cars they drive, and any friends they have. They all seem like loners. They never hung out with friends. They seem to live quiet, peaceful lives.”
My heart pounds in my chest, and I yell out, “Who? What women? What are their names?”