Page 63

SIXTY-TWO

We have been out in front of the brownstone building since six in the morning.

It was hard to drag myself out of bed so early, especially since Enzo and I had a late night together, if you know what I mean. And the night before, my sleep wasn’t exactly stellar. But Enzo was adamant that we should be there first thing in the morning, to make sure we don’t miss anyone going in or coming out.

We are wearing what Enzo calls “disguises.” When he said it, I imagined big black glasses with fake mustaches, but really, it’s just a couple of baseball caps and sunglasses. Enzo is wearing a Yankees cap, and he gave me one that says “I love New York.” Except instead of “love” it’s a big red heart. I look like a freaking tourist. It’s humiliating for someone born and raised in Brooklyn.

“Tourist is best disguise,” Enzo tells me.

Maybe he’s right, but I hate it. Still, I’m willing to do anything to get to the bottom of whatever the hell is going on. Before I end up back in prison again.

We can’t stay in one place all morning, so we move around, all the while keeping our eyes on the entrance to the building. If there’s a back entrance like the Garricks’ penthouse, we are screwed. But lots of residents are coming and going, so I’m hopeful this is the only way in or out.

Right now, it’s eight o’clock in the morning. We have been here for two hours and there has been no sign of the mystery man—if I really didn’t murder him, like Enzo thinks—or the blond woman. About ten minutes ago, Enzo announced he was hungry, so he went into the Dunkin’ Donuts across the street. He comes out carrying two cups of coffee and a brown paper bag.

“Take,” he instructs me.

I take the coffee gratefully. “What’s in the bag?”

“Is bagels.”

“Ugh.” My stomach turns at the thought of eating anything. I don’t even know why I asked. “I’ll pass.”

“You must eat at some time.”

“Not now.” I peer through my sunglasses at the brownstone. “Not until we find him.”

I’m afraid to take my eyes off the building. I could miss them, and then I will never find the mystery man. I am scared that I will get arrested today, and even though Enzo will keep trying to help me, he doesn’t know what that man looks like. The only person who can find him is me.

“So,” Enzo says. “Last night… it was good, yes?”

I take a long sip from my coffee. “I can’t focus on anything right now, Enzo.”

“Oh.” He looks down at his own container filled with coffee. “Yes. I know.”

“But yes, it was good.”

One corner of his lips quirks up. “I missed you so much when I was gone, Millie. I am so sorry for that. I do not regret being back home in Italy for my mother, but I did not want to have to choose between the two most important people in my life. I wanted you to wait, but I could not ask that.”

I hang my head. “I should have waited.”

Enzo opens his mouth to say something more, but before he can get out any words, I grab his arm. “That’s her! That’s the woman!”

Enzo squints through his sunglasses across the street, at the woman with blond hair coming out of the brownstone, wearing a knee-length skirt and a blazer. “You are sure?”

“Pretty sure.” I recognize her face and her hair color, but it is styled differently. It’s possible that it isn’t her. But I haven’t seen anyone else who even comes close. “Now what?”

The woman adjusts her purse strap, then crosses the street. I get ready to start following her, but then she goes into the Dunkin’ Donuts that Enzo just came out of. Judging by the line, she’ll be in there for at least ten minutes.

Enzo cracks his knuckles. “I will go talk to her.”

“You? What are you going to say?”

“I will think of something.”

“So you think you’re going to approach her in Dunkin’ Donuts and she’s just going to tell you everything?”

He places a hand on his chest. “Yes! I am very charming!”

I roll my eyes.

“You watch, Millie.” He squeezes my arm, then hands me the paper bag with the bagels. “I will find out everything.”