NADIA POVI did not sleep that night.I sat on the floor of my hotel room with my back against the wall. My knees were pulled to my chest. My phone was in my hand. The detective's words were still in my head.Marcus Reed. Eleanor's eyes and ears. The watcher. The man who had been following me. The man who had been taking photographs of me. The man who had been reporting back to Eleanor.He had been watching me for months. Maybe longer. He had been documenting everything. Every move. Every step. Every breath.And I had not seen him.Not once.I had felt him. I had felt his eyes on me. I had felt his presence. I had felt him waiting. Watching. Planning.But I had not seen him.He was good. He was very good.But he was not good enough.I pressed my hand against my stomach. The baby. The tiny life inside me. The only thing that mattered."We are going to catch him," I whispered. "We are going to catch him and we are going to make him talk. And then we are going to find Eleanor."I did not
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