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I KEPT MY cool and didn’t yell at Jaime Nantes to get moving. The scruffy informant was stopped at the front door, one hand resting on the rail to push it open. He turned to look at me and Rob Trilling following directly behind him.

Nantes said, “C’mon, guys, don’t crowd me on the way back. I can’t be seen walking with you two. In this neighborhood you’ll be made for cops before we take three steps out of this bodega.”

Trilling and I exchanged glances.

Nantes added, “I promise I won’t go inside the warehouse without you. I won’t be out of your sight.” He looked past me to make sure no one inside the bodega or restaurant was paying attention to us. Then he added, “We need some level of trust or this ain’t gonna work at all.”

Reluctantly, I nodded. But he kept standing at the door. I realized Nantes was waiting for Trilling to approve the plan as well. I guessed it was because he’d been working with Trilling, and this was the first time he’d met me.

My partner said, “None of us will walk together. I’ll be behind you and Detective Bennett can be a few dozen feet behind me. Just three individuals walking down the sidewalk.”

Nantes said, “You’d be surprised what some people notice. The older women sit in their apartments and watch the sidewalk like they used to watch soap operas. But I can live with the three of us spread out.”

I nodded again. Nantes turned and pushed the door open. He stepped out onto the sidewalk and paused. I noticed him look both ways. He still hadn’t moved from the doorway. The street wasn’t busy. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for. Then I had the uneasy feeling he might try to double-cross us. Even if he ran right now, I had no probable cause to chase him. We were essentially threatening him into helping us.

Then he walked straight into the street, crossing it quickly. He slowed once he reached the sidewalk on the other side.

Trilling and I took a slightly different route.

Trilling said, “You cross the street and I’ll hustle up this sidewalk. That way we might be able to corral him toward the warehouse, or clubhouse, or whatever the hell they call it.”

I stepped out of Island Delight. Nantes was already heading up the street on the other side. While I stood there, checking for traffic, Trilling slipped out of the bodega and started striding quickly on a parallel course.

My sixth sense told me this was not going to go the way I hoped it would.