Page 32 of A Breath of Life (Shadowy Solutions #4)

Tallus

S omeone was following us, and my PI boyfriend was utterly clueless.

Earlier, as Diem and I left the parking structure at headquarters, I noticed a guy sitting on a cement barrier, talking on the phone. The location was tucked away but not out of sight. For all intents and purposes, the man was unremarkable. Except his glittery gold Converse caught my attention.

I liked Converse. I owned several pairs for casual wear. With protanopia, my color spectrum was limited to blues, browns, and yellows, so when I shopped for footwear, I usually stuck to whites, blacks, or browns. Less chance of mismatching an outfit when Memphis wasn’t available to coordinate me.

When Converse released their Hi Glitter Gold All Stars, they tempted me, but by the time I decided I wanted to add them to my collection, the shoes were out of stock.

I’d spent the money on a couple of pairs of new SAXX instead because a guy needed new fashionable underwear from time to time. I regretted nothing.

The guy at headquarters, sitting on a cement barrier and chatting on his cell with the glittery Converse, had stood out for no other reason than he wore the shoes I’d once sought to own.

At the bus stop, as we’d waited for Buren and I’d paced the curb texting Memphis, a pair of shimmery gold Converse crossed my path. I’d halted and glanced up because what were the chances I’d seen two people in the span of an hour wearing the same unique shoes?

Although I hadn’t consciously taken in the man’s appearance back at headquarters, I knew it was the same guy.

Same dark jeans. Same yellowish-looking tee.

The same brimmed ballcap that cast a shadow over his face, making it impossible to get a clear view of his features. But the damn shoes told me it was him.

At the bus stop, the man stood apart from the crowd. He’d kept his chin down the entire time, scrolling on his phone like he had no care in the world.

Diem might not have thought I was the best investigator—and his arguments were usually valid—but my high school bullying days had left me adept at knowing when I was being followed, and the Converse-wearing guy pinged on my radar for two reasons.

One, we were a long way from the Toronto Police Headquarters building.

It had taken over twenty minutes for Diem to drive us to our rendezvous point.

Two, if the guy had been at my place of work and was now here, he must have owned a vehicle since taking public transportation would have been much slower.

If that was the case, why was he waiting for a bus?

I watched him without watching him, feigning interest in a text conversation.

Diem’s squirrely behavior mirrored that morning’s when he’d peered out the windows in search of a threat. Did he see the guy? A quick study of Diem told me no. My boyfriend seemed to be seeking someone at length when the danger was much closer.

I considered Diem’s earlier warnings and worries. Instead of immediately alerting him to Mr. Converse, I played the part of a cuddly boyfriend and burrowed into his arms. If the man with the gold shoes was indeed following us, I didn’t want him to know I’d figured him out.

When Buren showed up at the same time as the bus, I got distracted. Only after Buren took off and Diem suggested we head home did I see Mr. Hi Glitter himself less than ten feet away, still waiting for the bus that had come and gone, blending with the newly formed crowd.

It was why I’d suggested we eat at the restaurant. I wanted to test a theory and prove to myself I wasn’t imagining things. Ten minutes after we sat down, Gold Glitter Converse waltzed in as though he was a regular customer, looking for a meal.

I secretly congratulated myself on my well-honed detective skills.

Diem had situated himself so that he faced the door.

I waited for him to notice the obvious tail, but he didn’t.

He kept looking past the man to a threat that had yet to appear.

It was true. Sometimes, we didn’t see what was right in front of our faces.

I wanted to shake Diem and say, he’s right there , but I didn’t.

I waited. I observed. Even Echo gave no sign of recognition and dozed under the table.

Since my boyfriend had been less than forthcoming about his encounter the other night, I decided it was only fair that I do my own reconnaissance to see if I could figure out what this was all about .

We were in public. The sun was still up. People meandered the streets of downtown, and the restaurant was bustling with a dinner crowd. The man wasn’t about to make a move.

As we left the restaurant, I pretended to get a text from Memphis, but instead, I pulled up my camera app and snapped a picture of Hi Glitter. It wasn’t a great shot—he still wore the ballcap—but it was something.

Diem took us to Clarence Audraine’s address, obsessively checking the rearview mirror the entire way. I figured this would be the time we would lose our tail since the guy hadn’t left the restaurant with us.

After buzzing the correct unit a dozen times with no response, I nudged Diem. “Now what, big guy?”

Echo’s expression seemed to ask the same thing.

Diem didn’t answer and grumbled as he barreled from the vestibule and paced the exterior of the building, glancing at the row of third-floor balconies as though he might see Clarence lounging on a deck chair, enjoying a margarita.

“I don’t think he’s home, D.”

Another grunt. Diem continued his circuit of the building.

“Full incommunicado mode, I see. Aww, the good old days. I’d say I miss them, but I don’t. What are we doing?”

Diem didn’t answer.

“We can come back tomorrow,” I suggested. “Maybe Clarence stepped out, and…” A thought struck. “Hey, D? Why do you think he discharged himself from the hospital? I mean, the guy was stabbed. On that note. Shouldn’t he be home resting?”

Diem paused on a service road beside a line of dumpsters at the back of the building. Echo sniffed at the extreme reaches of her leash. The balconies didn’t extend to this side, but a line of windows in a neat row climbed to the top floor. I assumed they marked the ends of interior hallways.

With hands on his hips, Diem stared, studied, and squinted as though piecing something together.

“Hello? Earth to Diem. What are we doing?” I asked again.

My surly boyfriend still didn’t answer. He grumbled something appropriately incoherent and returned to the main street and front of the building, studying it anew.

“Oh, good grief.” I rolled my eyes and waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

Echo got bored and lay at Diem’s feet with an appropriate huff.

“Same, girl. Same.”

We’d parked half a block away, around a corner and down a short street. When I glanced in that direction, longing to call it a day, who did I see sauntering along the sidewalk but Mr. Converse Shoes himself.

“Oh fuck.” I rerouted my attention to the dog as though I hadn’t noticed, but surreptitiously watched the man’s approach.

By now, I recognized him despite the new accessories he had acquired. He carried a backpack over one shoulder and wore sunglasses. The ever-present phone remained pressed to his ear. That time, a one-sided conversation drifted toward me, but it wasn’t English.

My skin prickled. How had he found us? We’d left the restaurant and driven away before he exited. I’d watched for him. I didn’t have answers, but the fact was, he’d discovered our location. Somehow.

Again, I contemplated warning Diem, who was so focused on the building that he was oblivious to our incoming guest.

So far, the guy hadn’t made a physical threat against us, nor did he look capable on his own, but my hackles rose, and I moved to put Diem between us. The man’s frame wasn’t much bigger than mine, but my tank of a boyfriend could crush him under a boot like an ant if he wanted to.

“We’ll come back later,” Diem announced as the guy passed by the front of the building and continued down the road.

Echo didn’t make the connection, and Diem remained oblivious.

I didn’t stare after the guy but watched my boyfriend instead, waiting for him to turn and look, waiting for him to realize what I’d realized back at the bus stop. Nope. Nothing. Diem’s scrutiny, although astute, remained fixed on places in the distance or the task at hand.

Not once did he notice the tail right in front of his eyes.

“Why don’t we buzz the landlord and leave the card with him?” I suggested. “He can give it to Clarence.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“We need to hand-deliver it.”

Admittedly, the card was worth too much to entrust it to a nobody landlord, but it wasn’t like Clarence was especially concerned over it since he’d unloaded it onto us the other night without blinking.

“Why later? Why not come back in the morning on our way to the office?” The sun was nearly down, and with a random guy following us, I wanted to get home before the cloak of darkness gave him a reason to step from the shadow.

“No.” Diem marched down the street toward the Jeep. It wasn’t up for debate. He’d decided, and as always, I would follow.

I did not look back to see if Converse Man was behind us.

Diem drove randomly around downtown, weaving along streets seemingly aimlessly. Echo fell asleep in the back, and I grew tired of asking where we were going and getting no answer. I wanted to go home to bed. We’d both slept like shit the previous night, but Diem had other plans.

At a quarter after eleven, he parked in the same spot on the same side street near Clarence’s apartment. Traffic had considerably thinned. No pedestrians in sight. Thin pools of yellow from the sodium streetlights lined both sides of the road.