Walt Jenkins was rusty after his three-year sabbatical. There was an art to following someone, be it on foot or in a car, and to do it well required practice and maintenance. The only things Walt had followed over the last three years were the Yankees and the progress of a barrel of Hampden Estate Jamaican rum on which he had purchased futures. It was the local rum distillery about an hour from his house in Negril. The thought reminded him that he needed to check the last time the barrel had been racked. He shook his head and pushed the thought to the side—stray thoughts did not serve a surveillance specialist well, another indication he’d been away too long.

Earlier he had allowed a few morning commuters to exit the train after Avery Mason in order to keep a good pocket of people between him and her. He’d taken down the address of the brownstone she visited, stood down the block when she entered the flower shop, and took his time following her into the cemetery after she walked through the gates. Now, as she hurried away from the grave site where she had spent the last few minutes, Walt was less interested in following her. After she disappeared over a hill, he strolled to the plot where she had left a bouquet of flowers. Crouching down, he read the headstone. Finally, he reached into his pocket, grabbed his phone, and dialed Jim Oliver’s number. It was strange to call his old FBI boss after so many years.

“Oliver,” the voice said over the phone.

“She left her hotel this morning. I followed her to a brownstone in Brooklyn.”

“Address?”

Walt read the address from a slip of paper he had scrawled it on. “From the brownstone, she headed to Green-Wood Cemetery.”

“Yep,” Oliver said. “She goes there every year.”

CHAPTER 27 - North Carolina Wednesday, June 30, 2021

CHAPTER 27

North Carolina Wednesday, June 30, 2021

NESTLED IN THE FOOTHILLS OF THE BLUE RIDGE MOUNTAINS AND sporting six bedrooms, eight thousand square feet, and majestic views of iconic Lake Norman, the house was one of the most well-known properties in the area. Recently renovated, it was featured in Architectural Digest and had graced the pages of Magnolia Journal. Originally purchased for $6 million, if sold today it would snag twice that much. A Cadillac Escalade pulled through the front gates and parked in the circular cobblestone drive. Its passengers included the editor-in-chief of Hemingway Publishing, the largest publishing house in the world, as well as the company’s chief executive officer. They each had one goal today: lock their largest-selling author into a multiyear deal that guaranteed her novels would continue their mind-blowing run with Hemingway for the foreseeable future.