The Narrows

make sure it was legit before I left. It's after three o'clock in D.C."
    "I know. So what did you learn from him or were you just in there buying a book?"
    "I learned a lot. Tom Walling is a customer. Or was, until he stiffed him for an order of Edgar Allan Poe books. It was mail order like we thought. He never saw him, just sent the books out to Nevada."
    Rachel sat up straight.
    "Are you kidding me?"
    "No. The books were out of some guy's collection that Ed was selling. So they were marked and therefore traceable. That was why Backus burned them all in the fire barrel. He couldn't risk that they'd survive the blast intact and be traced back to Thomas."
    "Why?"
    "Because he is definitely in play here. He's got to be setting up on Thomas."
    I started the car.
    "Where are you going?"
    "Around back to make sure about the delivery. Besides, it's good to change locations every now and then."
    "Oh, you're giving me surveillance one-oh-one lessons now."
    Without responding I drove around to the back of the plaza and saw the brown UPS van parked by the open rear door of Book Carnival. We drove on by and during the brief glimpse I had of the back of the truck and the open door of the stockroom, I saw the deliveryman struggling to carry several boxes up a ramp to the back of his truck. The returns, I guessed. I kept driving without hesitation.
    "He's legit," Rachel said.
    "Yeah."
    "You didn't give yourself away with Thomas, did you?"
    "No. He was suspicious but then I was sort of saved by the bell. I wanted to talk to you first. I think we need to bring him in on it." "Harry, we talked about this. If we bring him into it he may change his routine and demeanor. It might be a giveaway. If Backus has been watching him, any little change could be a tell."
    "And if we don't warn him and this thing goes wrong, then we…"
    I didn't finish. We had been over this argument twice before, each of us alternately taking the other side. It was a classic contradiction of intentions. Do we ensure Thomas's safety at the risk of losing Backus? Or do we risk Thomas's safety to ensure getting close to Backus? It was all about the means to an end and neither of us would be happy no matter which way we went.
    "I guess that means we can't let anything go wrong," she said.
    "Right. What about backup?" "I also think it's too risky. The more people we bring into this, the greater the chance of tipping our hand."
    I nodded. She was right. I found a spot on the opposite end of the parking lot from where we had parked and watched before. I wasn't kidding myself, though. There were only so many cars in the lot in the middle of a rainy weekday and we were noticeable. I started to think that maybe we were like Ed Thomas's cameras. Strictly a deterrent. Maybe Backus had seen us and it had stopped him from moving forward with his plan. For now.
    "Customer," Rachel said.
    I looked across the lot and saw a woman heading toward the store. She looked familiar to me and then I remembered her from the Sportsman's Lodge. "That's his wife. I met her once. I think her name is Pat."
    "She bringing him lunch, you think?"
    "Maybe. Or maybe she works there."
    We watched for a while but there was no sign of Thomas or his wife in the front of the store. I grew concerned and took out my cell phone and called the store, hoping the call would bring them to the front counter, where the phone was.,
    But a woman answered right away and there was still no one at the counter. I quickly hung up.
    "There must be a phone in the stockroom."
    "Who answered?"
    "The wife."
    "Should I take a walk and go in?"
    "No. If Backus is watching he'll recognize you. You can't be seen."
    "All right, then what?"
    "Then nothing. They're probably at the table I saw in the back room having lunch. Be patient."
    "I don't want to be patient. I don't like just sitting-"
    She stopped when we saw Ed Thomas walk out the front of the store. He was wearing a raincoat and carrying an umbrella and a briefcase. He got into the car we had seen him arrive at the store in that morning, a green Ford Explorer. Through the store's front window I saw his wife take a seat on a stool behind the front counter.
    "Here we go," I said.
    "Where's he going?"
    "Maybe he's going to get lunch."
    "Not with a briefcase. We stay on him, right?" I restarted the car.
    "Right."
    We watched as Thomas pulled out of a parking space in his Ford SUV. He headed toward the exit and turned right on Tustin Boulevard. After his car was absorbed into