OCEANS.
We waited for the door to be answered. It took a while, almost like Mr. Gerald was taking his time to decide whether to answer the door or not.
The door pulled open a second before I lost my patience, and the man I'd see in the footage showed up looking a bit older. But he was dressed smartly. Just like in the footage. Button-down shirt. Pressed trousers. Good shoes. He was a man who had a knack for looking good when he was younger, I could tell.
I had taken Reeves' advice about the clothes. No suit. Dark fitted trousers, a simple black shirt, nothing that announced anything or gave up my real identity. Not because I was ashamed of who I was looking for or why, but because the fewer people who could connect Ocean Stark to a six-year-old shooting investigation, the cleaner everyt
