“I think it’s this one,” she said, pointing to the top name. “Young guy, was treated for a broken nose and a dislocated shoulder the night of the accident. He fits the bill, anyway.”

“And the others?”

“Similar profile, same night, car accidents, but older. I figured I’d include everything, just in case the first one isn’t a match.”

—

After work, I went to the first address and waited. I was waiting for Daniel Dupont, a name that meant nothing to me, so I searched for anything about him. Twenty-something who didn’t have a regular job, it seemed, who rented an apartment in the address I had. Casey was probably right about him. He fit the bill. I found some photos and social media posts, what he ate and where, where he had a drink or two, nothing interesting.

I ate the Chinese food I’d picked up after work, a carton of fried rice and chicken with snow peas. A couple of hours later the car still smelled like the food, maybe more so. I cracked a window and hoped for a breeze. There wasn’t one. I grabbed the take-out bag from the backseat and fished for a fortune cookie. I couldn’t read the small print in the dark of the car and didn’t feel like turning a light on. I thought I could make out enough of the words. “The world is not meaningful, nor absurd. That’s what’s so remarkable about it.” Something like that.

It was about ten o’clock when Dupont came out of the house and got in his car. I followed him as he drove through the back streets for a while. He drove like a guy who thinks he’s being followed, or doesn’t want to be followed. I wasn’t sure if I cared that he knew I was behind him or not. I kept trailing him, staying about a half block behind until he parked. I was at an intersection and turned the corner, went around the block, and parked behind him, almost a full block behind him. He hadn’t gotten out of the car. He never did. He sat in the car for hours.

I wondered if Dupont was working for Froehmer, watching a target the way I did. Maybe Mobley had taught him my tricks. Maybe Froehmer. I could see his silhouette in the driver’s seat; it felt like I was watching the person I used to be. Then, every few minutes, a cloud of smoke would stream out of the driver’s window. Dupont was smoking or vaping or whatever, but definitely calling attention to himself. He hadn’t been taught much, it turned out, or not enough. Maybe he just didn’t learn.