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Her nerves were jangling.

Even after all her planning, she could still feel her hands shaking slightly as she walked through the bar. It was frustrating. After all, the detailed planning was supposed to prevent her from feeling this way. She’d told herself that the more organized she was, the calmer she would be in these situations.

But in retrospect, she realized she’d been kidding herself. Unless she was a total sociopath—which she definitely wasn’t—then of course coordinating the details of a murder would unsettle her. It had happened with Daran Peterson, even though he hadn’t been able to tell until it was too late. And it was happening again now.

Luckily, unlike with Peterson, this time she didn’t have to be “on.” That would come later. Right now, as she maneuvered through the crowd at Naja’s Place, the raucous bar on the Redondo Beach pier’s boardwalk, she was wearing jeans and a hoodie that hung over her cap, which was not the same one she wore with Peterson yesterday.

She slid onto a barstool next to the person she was looking for but made sure to turn her body away from him. She didn't want to "meet" him until the time was right. Right now, she just wanted to listen.

He was talking to another guy who was a bit older than him. She had to wait a few minutes as they chatted about some sports team that she didn’t know or care about. But eventually they moved on to the topic that was of interest to her. He started talking about his sailboat and how he intended to take it out later this evening.

She smiled silently to herself. That was what she needed to know. The rest was just a matter of preparation. She glanced down at her hands and noted that they had stopped shaking.

She knew what she had to do. And though she was still scared, some small part of her was actually looking forward to it.