Chapter 13 - The Stalker Approaches
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The sleet hammered against the dirty windows of the cheap motel across the street from Castellano’s Diner.
Raymond Fletcher sat in a rickety plastic chair, staring through a pair of high-powered binoculars. He had arrived in Brooklyn three days ago, tracing the digital breadcrumbs directly to this street corner.
He watched through the magnified lenses as Amelia wiped down a table near the front window. She looked healthier than when he had known her. Her hair was longer, and there was a quiet confidence in her posture that infuriated him. She belonged to him. How dare she look happy?
Raymond lowered the binoculars and took a swig from a cheap flask of whiskey.
He wasn't stupid. He had spent the last three days watching the diner, learning its rhythms. He saw the two massive men in dark suits who never seemed to eat, just standing by the doors. He knew the rumors about Vincent Castellano.
A direct approach would get him killed. He needed a distraction. He needed to get Amelia alone.
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a burner phone. Before leaving Chicago, Raymond had made contact with a man who hated the Castellano family even more than Raymond hated Amelia.
He dialed a heavily encrypted number. It rang twice before a cold voice answered.
“Are you in position?” the voice asked.
“I’m looking right at her,” Raymond said, his eyes fixed on Amelia through the window. “The boss’s pet waitress. But there’s too much security. I need a window to grab her.”
“Patience, Mr. Fletcher,” the voice purred smoothly. “My men will hit the Castellano shipping yards tonight. Vincent will have to pull his guards from the diner to protect his real assets. When the guards leave, you take the girl. Bring her to the warehouse on Pier 4. We will use her to bring Vincent to his knees.”
“I don't care about your mafia politics,” Raymond growled. “I just want the girl.”
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“And you shall have her,” the voice promised. “Just wait for my signal.”
Raymond hung up the phone, a sick, twisted smile forming on his face. He picked up his binoculars again, watching Amelia pour coffee, waiting for the sun to go down.
