The next morning, Riley was up early unpacking, while keeping an eye out the window for the mystery man. About 8:30, he spotted his quarry coming out of the condo right across the street. How convenient! The face was turned away from him, but it was the guy. Same slender build, same rich black hair that glinted almost blue in the sun, only now he was dressed in a conservative suit and tie and carried a briefcase. So, the man must have a job in an office of some kind. And he either worked within walking distance or used public transportation. Riley had a momentary twinge of guilt about the mental dossier he was compiling. After all, the man was a potential friend or lover, not a target of an exposé. He shrugged—had to start somewhere, didn’t he?
After a dull day of tidying the condo, organ
