He was ten people behind her on the crowded escalator leading underground. The BART station was a dangerous place for him. There were cameras everywhere. He had to buy a ticket, using cash, and by the time he did, the woman had disappeared. He waded back into the mass of people, and he spotted what looked like a purple beret among the bobbing heads. He forced his way through the push-and-shove of the crowd, and he found her again, on the platform for the Millbrae line heading south.
The woman momentarily turned his way, checking the departure monitors for the next train. He hid his face before she could see him, but he recognized her.
It was Maria Lopes.
Four years had changed her. He saw someone who was older, more serious, more mature. The free spirit on the tour bus had responsibilities now. But that was to be expected. Wren would have been the same, all these years later.
It was cool down below near the train tunnels. Rudy waited, watching the crowd gather, keeping an eye on Maria. Five minutes later, with a roar and a gust of wind, a train surged into the station. It was standing-room only. Maria was among the people pushing shoulder to shoulder to find space inside, and Rudy let himself get a little closer behind her. There were only three people between them inside the packed train car. If she’d peered back between the strangers, she would have seen his face, but she didn’t. She had headphones in her ears. She read her phone, head down. She was oblivious to the world.
The train left the Civic Center station. He held on to a shoulder strap as the car jostled. Throughout the downtown stops, more people got on than got off, squeezing the crowd closer together. Soon, Maria was so near he could have reached out to touch her. If he’d pursed his lips and exhaled, she would have felt the warmth of his breath on the back of her neck. Even when he’d stalked her four years earlier, he’d never been this close. And yet she was unaware.
They headed out of the city together. Maria didn’t live in San Francisco now. Going south, the train stopped in Daly City. Then Colma. Then South San Francisco. As the crowd thinned, he drifted to the far back of the car, putting more people between them. He found a seat; so did Maria. There were only two stops left: San Bruno and Millbrae.
As they neared the San Bruno station, Maria slid her headphones out of her ears and secured them in her purse, along with her phone. The train pulled in, and she got up, not looking behind her, and headed out onto the platform. She walked toward the tall escalators. Rudy followed, letting the distance between them increase. There was nowhere for her to go.
Maria emerged into the night outside the station. The bay was less than a mile away, sending a cold breeze off the water. The dark hills loomed to the west. She walked briskly toward the multilevel parking garage, with the look of someone who did this every day. Her leather jacket swished; her heels tapped. She tugged the beret down on her head.
Rudy noticed a police station immediately adjacent to the garage, but there were no cops outside. He lagged behind her, watching the way in and the way out of the garage. She reached the elevators and got inside, and when the doors closed, he ran, taking the steps and jogging up to the next floor. The elevator got there just as he did, and he hung back. Maria walked down the middle of the garage aisle, and he spied her from a distance as she climbed inside a Chevy sedan. She backed out and headed down the ramp.
She was gone.
Rudy turned around and went back down the steps.
He considered his options as he returned to the station. The garage was a possibility. If he took her there, he’d have her car in which to go somewhere more private. But the garage also had cameras, and BART riders came and went with every ding of the elevator doors. There was also the threat of cops at the nearby police station. It was a risk. And the weekend was already here, so Maria wouldn’t be heading back to the garage until Monday. Two days was a lifetime for him now.
He had to find out where Maria lived, and he had to be ready to move fast.
As he waited on the cold platform for the next northbound train, with only a handful of other people heading into the city, Rudy heard his phone ringing in his pocket. The only person who had that number was Phil. He walked to the far end of the station where he was alone, and then he answered the phone.
“What’s up?”
“Hey,” his brother replied. Phil knew better than to use names; somewhere, the government was always listening. “That person you told me to keep an eye on? I’m on the case.”
“Where?”
“A restaurant near the Ferry Building.”
“Alone?”
“No. Looks like a family dinner. What do you want me to do?”
“Just keep watching,” Rudy said. “And keep me posted.”
36
It didn’t take long for Frost to regret going to the family dinner.
“A toast!” his father said, raising a bottle of beer in the direction of Duane and Tabby. His voice was loud, but everyone in Boulevard was loud on Friday night. “To my oldest son and the girl who finally managed to get him to spend ten minutes outside that food truck of his. Honestly, Tabby, I didn’t think it could be done. Duane, you make sure this one sticks around.”
Tabby, who sat between Duane and Frost, poked Frost’s brother in the side. “But no pressure or anything, right?”
Duane chuckled. His voice was as loud as Ned’s. “Just for the record, it’s every bit as hard getting Tabby out of the kitchen in this place as it is getting me out of mine.”
“Or getting me into a kitchen at all,” Frost added to no one in particular.
They all drank. Frost, Ned, and Tabby had beer, and Duane had his usual carrot juice. His mother had a glass of chardonnay.
Tabby had arranged for a table where they could see the frenzied work of the chefs in the restaurant’s open kitchen. That was where Tabby could be found on most evenings. The interior of Boulevard was like stepping into a ’20s French bistro, with hanging art-deco lights, bronze sculptures of half-naked women, iron grillwork, and a brick ceiling over their heads. Even the signage made the place look like a station on the Paris Metro line.
Frost’s mother eyed him from the opposite side of the table. He was waiting for the quiet verbal stiletto, and he didn’t have to wait long.
“And now that Duane finally has a girl in his life,” Janice murmured from behind her wineglass, “perhaps the day may actually come when we can say the same thing about Frost.”
Tabby covered her mouth, and Frost knew she was laughing hard enough to bring tears to her eyes. She slung an arm around his shoulder and whispered in his ear, “Aren’t families great?”
“I wouldn’t know,” he replied. “I’ve only had mine.”
Duane leaned forward. His brother’s long black hair was loose tonight, and he wore a tie for what was probably the first time in a decade. The tie was for his parents, but below the tablecloth, he wore cargo shorts.
“Actually, bro, is there a secret you want to share with us?” Duane asked with a wicked little grin.
Frost was puzzled. “Um, no.”
“Then I guess it’s up to me to spill the beans. Tabby and I stopped at Frost’s place on the way over here so we could drop off a care package for the weekend. Frost was already gone, so I let the two of us inside. And my, my, my, what did we find? There was a girl in residence at Chateau Shack.”
“And a very pretty girl, too,” Tabby added.
“With a travel bag in hand,” Duane went on.