Chapter 4

4

L uke unpacked the fiber- and protein-filled granola bar, wondering what Sol and her friend would be savoring at that same exact moment. If he'd been the one dining there, he'd be devouring the bruschetta with sheep ricotta and the sea bream baked in salt. But the alternative wasn't that grim thanks to his foresight of always carrying provisions.

He'd started making his own snacks after two months at the agency. He'd realized that all the surveillance work he did meant eating on the go and not getting to sit in any of the swanky eateries that his marks invariably frequented. The agency would never reimburse him for it. The options were either homemade refreshments, fast food that would appall his former longtime yoga teacher, or starving.

Luke had landed the spot at Thompson & Thomson—one of London's biggest sleuthing agencies—after years of contracting work for some of the less renowned outlets. It didn't take long to realize T&T's bread and butter was the same mixture of divorce cases, child custody disputes, background checks, and work- harassment inquiries he'd been devoting his hours—basically his life—to for the last eight years as a contractor for smaller firms.

At T&T, there were still endless hours watching subjects from a distance, following them, attempting to take incriminatory pictures, and more often than not trying to rule them out as culprits.

He'd been assigned to this particular case feeling his luck was finally about to change. The dominant streaming service Meshflixx had hired T&T to look into the theft of one of their screenplays. The first episode in the second season of one of Meshflixx's hit TV shows had leaked online mere hours after one of the show's creators noticed a physical copy of the script missing. The last place the creator had been with that copy of the script was Josie's studio. Sol had been at the studio that evening.

But here he was, watching his mark sip white wine while he was freezing outside—the weather had turned vile that evening—and feeling very much like a perfect stalker.

He'd been watching Sol, along with some of her Pilates colleagues, for over two weeks and could not find a fault with the woman. She was a sharp dresser, always on time, and seemed equally devoted to her profession, fitness, and friends.

He had even caught her reading the intriguingly titled Come as You Are by Emily Nagoski Ph.D. and was now page-turning it himself when the job permitted it. The Kindle app on his phone tended to carry the latest best-selling crime book, but he found Nagoski's work enlightening.

He was starting to dread not having met Sol under different circumstances even if the sometimes uptight and somewhat bohemian-yet-posh journalist was nothing like his usual type. And, of course, he shouldn't omit the fact that she was possibly a thief.

"Dreading the gig already?" Divya's voice interrupted Luke's inner musings as his colleague approached from behind, ready to fill in for him on surveillance duty.

"Not dreading this one actually," Luke said, catching another glimpse of Sol talking with her friend.

"I see." Divya had a knowing smile on her face. "I personally also have no objection against following Sol around the city, especially when she's dressed in leggings and cropped tank tops."

"It's not that!" Somehow, he could feel his whole face turning red.

"Relax, mate. She's a good-looking person," Divya said.

"But it feels somewhat strange to think about, considering she doesn't know she's being watched. Doesn't it?"

"I keep telling you: Don't. Overthink. The. Job. Learn as much as you can. Don't spend everything you earn. We don't get paid that much, but still… save a little. Try to get as much access to the clients as possible. Make contacts. And one day…"

"Here's for that agency we'll hopefully open one day, yes," Luke said, toasting her with his half-eaten granola bar.

He'd met Divya when he'd started working at T&T two months before. They'd gotten on well from the start and somehow had already talked—half-joked, at least—about the agency they'd run together and how they'd do things so differently from their managers.

He left the stakeout, checking the window of Bocca di Lupo one last time and pulling up the collar of his tweed coat. Spring would still make herself scarce for a few weeks. He had over thirty years of experience with London weather and tried to always dress for it, but his hometown still managed to catch him ill-equipped sometimes.