Chapter 8 — Creston

Creston was a town of eighteen thousand that had been growing in the direction of a city for twenty years and hadn't quite gotten there, which gave it the particular energy of a place that had outgrown its old identity without fully committing to a new one. Strip malls from the nineties beside new mixed-use developments beside auto-body shops that had been in the same family for three generations.The mailbox service Marcus had identified — PostNet Plus on the commercial strip on Route 7 — was the kind of anonymous business operation that existed specifically because some clients needed an address without an office. Nora sat in the parking lot across the street for forty-five minutes, watching.Nothing unusual. A UPS delivery. Two people going in for their boxes, coming out with packages. The teenager behind the counter visible through the glass, looking at his phone.She went in on the pretext of pricing a mailbox, walked the space with the practiced casualness of someone looking at options, and noted: twelve active boxes currently rented, each with a small indicator light that showed recent activity. Box 7 had a light. Box 7 was registered — she could see the edge of the card in the holder — to Meridian Consulting Group.Box 7 had been accessed in the last twenty-four hours.She left without renting anything. She sat in her car and called Sadie."He's active," she said. "Box has recent activity.""Stay on the location," Sadie said. "I have the warrant — it came through this morning. I'm dispatching a surveillance team from the federal building. They'll be there in two hours. Do not approach.""I know.""Nora. He's killed at least four people professionally. Possibly more. Do not approach.""I know," she said again.She waited.At forty minutes, a man came out of the hardware store two doors down from PostNet Plus and stood on the sidewalk. Nora's attention caught on him the way it caught on things that her professional pattern-recognition flagged before her conscious mind could articulate why.He was average in every deliberate way. Medium height. Unremarkable clothes. A face that was put together to be forgettable. He stood for a moment looking at his phone, and then he walked toward PostNet Plus.She photographed him through her windshield.He went in. She watched the counter. He did not go to the counter — she could see him through the glass, going directly to the box wall, opening Box 7 with a key, removing an envelope, leaving. Four minutes.He came out. He walked south on Route 7.She followed on foot, at distance, the way Marcus had taught her: not behind, slightly to the side, using the natural foot traffic as cover.He went two blocks and into a budget motel called the Crestview Inn.Room 14, ground floor.She noted the room number and the motel name. She went back to her car. She called Sadie."He's at the Crestview Inn on Route 7," she said. "Room 14. Male, medium height, brown hair, forties. I have photographs."A pause. "The surveillance team is twenty minutes out. You found him in forty minutes?""I got lucky with the timing.""Stay in your car," Sadie said. "Do not go near room 14.""I'm in my car."She was in her car. She sat in her car and watched the Crestview Inn and thought about Marcus, who had spent eighteen months building a case file that had cost him everything, and a man named Gerald Morrow who had spent eleven of those months in a state prison.She stayed in her car.She was very good at staying in her car for approximately another twelve minutes.