Chapter Six
Matt’s concentration broke when his phone began to vibrate. Carissa.
He answered as he stepped away from the table.
“Talk,” he said.
“I think I have him,” she replied—no hesitation, no lead-in. “No trail yet, but I’ve got a description from the area cameras that match witness accounts.”
Carissa went on, “tall, brown skin, well dressed. Middle eastern. Some said Indian others Pakistani or Turkish.”
She continued, “a witness claimed him as loud and disruptive. Comfortable being noticed. That’s not common for this kind of work.”
Her words lined up too closely with the loud man who had just passed by. Matt’s pulse shifted, controlled but alert. He tossed a few bills onto the table, closed his laptop, and gathered his things.
“I think I just saw him,” he said, eyes sweeping the sidewalk.
Matt’s jaw tightened. “The guy was at the café,” he said.
“Where is he now?” Carissa asked.
Matt turned slowly, scanning faces, posture loose but eyes sharp. “Gone,” he said. “Lost him in foot traffic.”
“Figures,” she replied. “He moves when he wants to be remembered—and disappears when he doesn’t.”
Matt retraced the man’s path in his mind. Chairs shoved aside. Bodies shifted. Space claimed. Near the counter, a woman stood gathering her things, rubbing her shoulder absently.
Matt approached her, voice calm. “You okay?” he asked.
She looked up, surprised, then nodded.
“Yeah. Some jerk bumped into me earlier.”
“Tall?” Matt asked. “Confident. Didn’t apologize.”
She scoffed. “That’s him.”
“Anything else you noticed?”
She paused, thinking. “Heavy middle eastern accent” she said. “Not local. Shoes too clean for how rough he acted. And he kept checking his phone—like he was waiting for something.”
Matt nodded once. “Thank you,” he said. “Sorry that happened.” She waved it off, already moving on.
Matt stepped outside again, the crowd swallowing the space where the man had been.
“Carissa,” he said.
“I’m listening.”
“Accent. Clean footwear. Attention-seeking behavior. Moves when he wants control.” A pause—typing on her end. “That helps,” she said. “A lot.”
Matt stayed where he was, watching the crowd flow around him. “Cameras?” he asked.
“Already pulling,” Carissa replied.
“Municipal, private, café-adjacent. Give me a minute.”
Matt waited. People passed. The world carried on, indifferent.
“There,” Carissa said suddenly. “I have him.”
Matt closed his eyes briefly. “Name?” “Not yet,” she said. “But I’ve got a face. And a movement trail. He wasn’t just passing through—he was watching.”
Matt exhaled slowly. “So was I.”
“His presence overlaps with both sites,” Carissa said. “Not proof. But enough to justify deeper recon.”
Matt nodded to himself. “Send me everything,” he said. “I’ll take it from here.”