“Yes. But to me they looked like an ordinary couple wearing surgical masks,” said Sean. “They went window shopping.”

“But we tracked them to Gucci, remember? You don’t believe I saw those texts?”

“I do believe you,” said Sean. “I mean, I think you believe you saw them.”

“You think I made it all up?” said Zoe. “That I’d go to the police and report a bogus crime?”

“No,” said Sean, “of course not. I believe you or I wouldn’t have helped. I was just pointing out that you were the only one who actually saw the text conversation of the murder. Sometimes your imagination takes over and you get a little wound up.”

“I only got ‘wound up’ because that man on the bench is probably going to be killed by his Cruella de Vil wife on Thursday,” said an incredulous Zoe. “Sean, you’ve got to believe me.”

“Okay. I must be insane but okay.”

“Yay,” said Zoe, giggling.

“So, what are our next steps for tomorrow?”

“After our morning meeting at Villa d’Luna, we’ll call Blue Crest Financial and track down the origin of that white bag with the red lettering that the masked woman was carrying,” said Zoe, pouring herself another half glass of bourbon. “Then, we’ll go downtown to the Lower East Side where we lost them yesterday and snoop around. Maybe we’ll spot them.”

“What are the odds of us randomly finding them?” said Sean, giving her a dubious look.

“Slim to none, but a man’s life is at stake. We have to do whatever it takes to stop that murder.”

26

Later that evening, when Zoe climbed between the soft cotton sheets on her empty king-sized bed, she felt tiny. Tossing and turning for half an hour, she groaned and reached in to her nightstand drawer, retrieving the nearly empty bottle of Ambien. She shook the container and removed the plastic cap. There were two pills left. Good thing I picked up my new prescription this week. Taking a single pill out, she popped it into her mouth and put the bottle back in the drawer. Lying down, she replayed the contentious phone call she had with her husband that night. It hadn’t gone at all the way she had planned.

Conner jumped down my throat before I said anything. “You get in the middle of things you shouldn’t be involved in. It’s not normal. I think you should make an appointment with Dr. Eisdorfer like we talked about.”

She sighed and rolled onto her side. What am I supposed to do? Let that man die without doing anything? That would be so wrong. Conner doesn’t understand.

Folding her arms across her chest, she brought her knees up to meet them as she recalled her first sessions with Dr. Eisdorfer nearly a year before. Conner had accompanied her on that first meeting.