“Yeah, things are way different from how they used to be,” Emma, a female Nikkei trainer, said, as we walked down the stairs to have lunch together in the health club cafeteria. “The new owners run a tight ship for sure.” Emma had been one of the new hires during my original undercover assignment. She and Annika never got a chance to speak, so I wasn’t worried that she would figure out who I was. I doubted she even remembered Annika. I had recently finished the one-week onboarding training all new hires had to go through and was on my fourth day of working as a trainer now. I’d struck up a conversation with Emma while on my floor shift, and we had quickly become friendly. I wanted to find out just how much things had changed, and Emma was the perfect person to fill me in, being part of the old crew. Given that she was one of the trainers who had more smarts than good looks, I’d been surprised to see she still had a job. So far, it seemed like everyone else in that big group of trainers was gone. So why was she still here?
“Yeah, it’s as if I’m at another club altogether,” I said as we entered the always buzzing cafeteria. I’d told Emma that I used to be a member at the club before her time and how the trainers were so…different now for lack of a better word. I didn’t want to use the words “super hot” as that might make Emma uncomfortable. She was a very bright and sweet girl, but with her chunky body, bad skin and stringy, rat-colored hair, she was not attractive. In fact, she appeared even heavier than I could remember. She must be working here still because she’s an excellent trainer, which should be what matters most, I decided. Maybe The Adler Group, the European-based company that had bought out Millennium Partners, Nikkei Sports Club’s former owners, wasn’t as strict on the hotness factor as Rolf had made it seem. And that was a good thing. If not, Adler’s policy was borderline discriminatory.
“Yeah, you better bring your A game if you wanna survive here,” Emma said. “I myself work harder than ever to maintain my clientele. All the new trainers are great and hard-working, so competition is fierce. The few of us who’re still here from before have definitely had to up our game.” She nudged me and smiled. “You must have some great credentials in addition to being gorgeous. It’s super hard to get a foot in the door here these days.”
“Thanks, Emma! Yeah, I’m so glad they hired me. I guess having a Masters in exercise physiology at Brown did give me an edge.” My diploma from Brown University was the only document in addition to my driver’s license and social security card Jose had forged for me. Emma looked impressed.
“Wow! Yeah, so you must be as smart as you’re great-looking then. If you’re willing to work as hard as the new trainers, you’ll have a full clientele in no time.”
As a new trainer, I was only doing floor shifts, not actually training anyone yet. Floor shifts involved keeping the gym floors in order and assisting members. Management fed you client leads in the meantime, and you were also expected to pick up some on your own. If you didn’t get some clients within a few months, you were fired. According to Emma, this policy was even stricter with The Adler Group at the helm.
“Hey, why don’t you take that table while I get us food?” Emma suggested and pointed at a table in the middle of the busy cafeteria. “You still want the chicken stir fry?”
“Yes, that would be great,” I said and handed her a twenty to pay for my food and drink. Then I took a seat at the table she had indicated. I kept my head down even though I should be able to relax now what with most of the old crew being gone. It was best to be careful still, however, stay away from the few people I had known. Having lost the teeth and glasses, I didn’t look quite as different as I would have liked. Maybe one of the club’s weirdos—general eccentrics and people much too loud and outspoken for my taste—would see me and, thinking I reminded them of Annika, yell it out for the world to hear. That might be all that was needed for others—people who knew Cardoza—to view me in a different light and begin to wonder about me.
As I discreetly took in everyone in the cafeteria, searched for potential suspects, I supported my face in my hands. Lively energy filled the air. The sounds of jaunty laughter and chattering voices cut through the space as well as clinking silverware and scraping chairs. A couple of kids were fighting about something at a table while the adult woman with them told them to be quiet. A whiff of salmon, lemon and balsamic vinaigrette reached me, and I soon discovered where it came from; someone right next to me was eating his fish with a generous side of leafy greens. As my eyes moved through all the commotion, they did a double take when they reached an unfamiliar, sandy blond man with a thin, scruffy beard. He was looking right at me, and he did not seem at all pleased with what he saw. But the second I noted his gaze on me, he lowered it toward the big newspaper spread over the table where he sat alone.
I took him in. He appeared to be in his early to mid-thirties. Despite being very handsome and with a well-built physique, I didn’t get the sense that he was another of the many new trainers at the club. Not only did he have an air of corporate professional to him, but he wore a brown, formal sweater and dress pants that further reinforced my assumption. Trainers rarely lunched in outfits other than some type of relaxed, athletic gear. I willed him to return my stare so I could figure out why he’d seemed so annoyed with me, but he insisted on keeping his gaze firmly on the newspaper now. As far as I could tell, he was still irked because he appeared to be scowling. What was his problem? Did he recognize me? In that case, did he recognize me as Annika, the Swedish trainer, or as Nick’s wife? If the latter, he must have something to do with Nick’s death. Just the thought of this caused fury tempered with anxiety to stream through my veins. The way he had glowered at me suggested he had some interest in me and not in a good way. I inhaled quietly through my nose to steady the sudden churning in my stomach.
“He’s so cute, isn’t he?” Emma commented and placed a bottle of water in front of me. “In a moody, gruff kind of way.”
I jerked so hard the table shook slightly at her sudden appearance. Turning toward her, I couldn’t help but chuckle at my overreaction. “Who’s that guy?” I asked, keeping my voice down even though the mystery man was too far away to hear us. And even if he had been seated right next to our table, the buzz in the big cafeteria was loud enough to drench out our conversation. The grim expression on his face made me uneasy, which was why I’d felt compelled to use the unnecessary caution.
Emma shrugged. “I have no idea. Never seen him before. Could be someone from ABC News having lunch here. They often come here what with their offices being across the street. Or from one of the other businesses around here. Lately, this cafeteria has been gaining in popularity among professionals in the area. I definitely don’t think he works here.”
“I see,” I said, eager to switch the subject. The more I looked at him now—we were both practically staring at the man, who kept ignoring us—the more unsettling I found his presence. I was suddenly convinced he had something to do with Nick’s death, and that he knew who I really was. Goosebumps formed on my arms as the unease kept expanding within me, which annoyed me since I should really be pleased to have gotten a lead so quickly. It had soon dawned on me that, while my gut told me the answer to Nick’s death would be found in New York City, I was still fumbling in the dark, having no idea what to look for. Besides, this guy would hardly do anything to me in broad daylight, in front of so many witnesses. I was armed myself, and a very good shot was he to try something. Yes, spotting this man is a good thing, Gabi, I told myself in my head. It means you can get your revenge sooner rather than later. That was what you came for in the first place, you silly thing! If you can just make sure he doesn’t get to you before you get to him, you’re set. But thinking these thoughts didn’t make me feel much calmer. What was going on? Had Nick’s murder made me lose all the confidence I’d gained while working in law enforcement for years?
Emma smiled at me, her round face lit with excitement. “You like him? He’s definitely hot. Looks like he could be Swedish. He reminds me of a trainer who used to work here. Of course, she was female. Still, he has that look.”
It took all I had to control the urge I had to stare at her. That just had to have been a totally random comment. Emma’s tone hadn’t been sarcastic at all, and her face remained innocent-looking. Yes, of course it was just random. I really shouldn’t be that surprised; everyone used to tell me that I, as Annika, looked so incredibly Swedish, which I had found hilarious since I was Latina, albeit a light-skinned one.
“He’s pretty hot,” I said, “but I don’t think he’s Swedish. He looks more Eastern European to me.”
“If we know his name, we should be able to determine where he’s from. We can always ask the front desk people”—she nodded at the front desk visible from where we sat—”if he’s a member or just a guest. He’d have to sign the list there to get in here for lunch as a guest. They might remember him if we do it now. You want me to go ask them?”
“No, no, that’s okay,” I replied quickly. I smiled at her. “I just thought he looked like someone I used to know is all. But the more I look at him, the more I see it’s not the same person.”
One of the kitchen workers behind the long lunch counter called out our names, letting us know our food was ready, saving me from having to discuss this further. If I was going to learn this guy’s name, I preferred doing so when Emma wasn’t around. After that comment about him reminding her about Annika, I’d better keep her at arm’s length. Random or not, it had been weird. But I appreciated that she’d confirmed for me a trainer could still find out about members and visitors to the club by talking to the front desk people. As soon as our lunch was over, I’d head over there and ask them about him.
I got to my feet. “Let me get the food.” I motioned for Emma to stay seated. Hurrying over to the cashier, I grabbed the tray with my stir fry and Emma’s turkey wrap. On my way back, I nearly bumped into one of the other trainers I used to be friendly with—Burt, a good-looking black male who always wore the most outlandishly colored contacts, causing him to appear alien. He wore the Nikkei trainer’s uniform, which consisted of a black shirt with the words “Nikkei Trainer” and plain black pants or tights. I hadn’t seen him in all the time I had been here, so I had assumed he was no longer working at the club. But here he was. Our eyes met and he smiled at me. Nothing in his expression suggested he recognized me, thankfully. It was too bad I had to act like I didn’t know him as I would have loved to catch up with him, see how life had treated him.
After I returned with our food, Emma and I continued to talk, mostly about how life in New Mexico was, which I had studied on the flight from L.A. Then Emma had to go because she had a client and I was alone. Great, now I can go up to the front desk and ask about the guy, I thought. The people working there could easily see him if they turned around. My eyes went to the blond man’s table, but, much to my disappointment, he was gone. All that was left of him was the big newspaper he’d been reading. The New York Times, it looked like from where I sat. I searched the spacious cafeteria area hoping to spot him somewhere, but he was nowhere to be seen. Damn. This was not good. I needed to find out who he was. I pondered whether to go up to the front desk and ask the receptionists about him, even though there was no one to point out for them. I chewed on my lower lip. What would I tell them? I didn’t know the people working there yet. Asking them to dig up the name of a thirty-something, tall dude whose only identifying traits were his sandy blond hair and thin beard would just sound odd. I sighed. I should forget about him for now. Maybe that look hadn’t meant as much as I had initially thought. Maybe the guy had just eaten something bad, which had made him look so grim right as he laid eyes on me. Or maybe I’d just reminded him of someone he didn’t like, and he hadn’t been able to hide this fact. I didn’t think we’d met before. He had a distinct look about him. Surely, I would have remembered him. Also, this guy hadn’t looked like a man involved in the criminal underworld, the kind Nick had been so deeply immersed in. Nothing about him had said Mexican cartel member.
A shiver of extreme discomfort went through me as an image of Nick’s slashed back suddenly materialized in my head. I closed my eyes for a moment. “Rats always get what they deserve.” There had been so much blood… I could only hope he was already dead before the sadists had carved that sentence directly into his body. Sadly, knowing how cruel Cardoza and his cohorts were, he’d probably been alive. It was more likely that they had taken their time marking his body and enjoyed every moment of it. The cloth stuffed into my husband’s mouth had surely been there to muffle the screams that had come out of him, as they had applied those other cuts and punctures to his body. To his face and eyes.
Ice cold and feeling like I was about to throw up the stir fry, I opened my eyes and forced the horrible images out of my mind. I rubbed my arms to feel better. I took my plate, silverware and emptied water bottle, and went to the cafeteria’s trash area. I threw the bottle and placed the plate and utensils in the designated spots. I decided to take a walk in Central Park, get some fresh air before it was time for me to do my afternoon floor shift. It was sunny and rather warm out for an afternoon in late March. I should enjoy it.
I didn’t run into anyone else I knew as I kept walking to the elevators that would take me down to the lobby and out to the street. When I pressed the button to get the elevator, I thought about how Brady believed I was in Hungary now. I was lucky to have become good friends with George, our IT guy at the station as well as a masterful hacker. He was the other reason I’d been able to pull off my stunt. Not only had George ensured it showed in American Airlines’ records that I’d boarded my connecting flight to Hungary in New York when I hadn’t, but he’d also taken care of my email situation. Each time I sent an email, my IP address showed that I was in Europe, not in the States still. Not that I thought Brady would ever check on me, but in case he did, he would have no reason to believe I wasn’t where I claimed to be.
Having deceived him to his face, I doubted Brady would have my back the way he had when he’d pushed for me to get the undercover job being a rookie cop, assuring everyone I had the goods. He was big on ethics, and I’d promised him I’d go straight to Hungary. He would be so disappointed to realize I’d lied to him. My career in law enforcement would be over.
I could live with not ever getting to be a cop again. What I couldn’t live with was not having at least tried to find Nick’s butchers.