The man sauntered out from behind the statue and fell in with a group of passing tourists. He wore an unbuttoned pale orange short-sleeved shirt over a white T-shirt, dark jeans, and sunglasses. The shirt and the bald head keyed a memory, and Pike realized the man had passed them before. Pike had not seen him double back, which made Pike suspicious because Pike had outstanding situational awareness, which meant he noticed everything in his environment. In Pike’s world, the things you didn’t notice could and would hurt you.

As the man drew closer, Pike saw a tattoo on the side of his neck. The ink suggested a gang affiliation, but Pike couldn’t see it clearly enough to tell. He wondered if Azzara had lied, and now Mendoza’s friends were upping their game, or maybe Azzara had not had time to call off the dogs.

The man left the crowd to take a position behind a street vendor selling hats and T-shirts. Now he was on a cell phone, and Pike wondered whether he was talking or only pretending.

Pike said, “We’d better go.”

Dru’s face drooped in exaggerated disappointment.

“Wow. This is a short date.”

“Is this a date?”

“It could be.”

Dru made an effort to pay, but Pike put down cash and told her they didn’t need to wait for change. When he glanced over again, the man in the orange shirt was gone.

Pike was trying to spot the man when Dru noticed, and turned to see.

“What are you looking at?”

Pike stepped in front of her, hoping the man hadn’t seen.

“Don’t look.”

She stepped to the side, trying to see—

“Is it one of those guys?”

Pike slid in front of her again.

“It’s nothing to worry about.”

She was frightened, and now Pike felt irritated with himself. He took her hand. It was soft, but firm beneath the softness.

“We’re fine. Come on. I’ll walk you home.”

Pike squeezed her hand once, then let go, but he could feel her tension as they walked back to the shop.

On the way, he touched her back to stop her twice, pretending to window shop so he could check for shadows, but the man in the orange shirt was gone and no one else was following.

When they reached the corner, Pike paused again. He checked the cars lining the curbs, the rooflines, the nearby shops, and the gas station across the street. Wilson’s sandwich shop was quiet and undisturbed, but now Dru walked as if she were brittle. Her confidence and ease were gone, and Pike felt a sense of failure. He had lost control of the moment, and Pike did not like losing control.

She said, “Are we okay?”

“We’re fine. I overreacted.”

She shook her head.

“You don’t look like the overreacting type.”