silence. Obviously, her sudden appearance had startled someone. While I didn’t think anyone was out to spirit away our newspaper, the “funny” part raised my parental antennae.
“Did he say anything?”
“He asked my name.”
A coldness surged through me. “Did you tell him?”
“Sure.”
My whole body turned to ice. “And?”
“He said my name was pretty and asked if I knew whatever floor Ms. Colton lived on.”
Mental alarms blared. No one by the name of Colton lived in our building.
“When did this happen?”
“Right before I knocked.”
I ran to the window. The building’s single elevator was notoriously slow, and our view not only gave us a grand sweep of the Golden Gate Bridge but also overlooked the street from four floors up. Jenny joined me, and not five seconds later an athletic Asian male wearing baggy pants, an oversize T-shirt, and a baseball cap with the bill riding the back of his neck hit the sidewalk and headed north. Narrow airfoil sunglasses obscured his eyes.
“Is that him?”
“Uh-huh.”
My jaw clenched. “Stay here and lock the door. I’ll be right back.”
Jenny’s eyes pooled with worry. “Where are you going?”
“To have a chat with the China guy.”
“Can I come?”
“No.” I headed for the door.
Jenny grabbed my arm. “Don’t leave me, Daddy.”
She meant, Don’t go out there , with a subtext of Don’t leave me alone.
“I can’t let this pass, Jen. That man shouldn’t have been in our building talking to you.”
“That’s Mr. Kimbel’s job, not yours.”
“Once the China guy asked your name, it became my job, not the super’s. Do you want to wait at Lisa’s?”
“No, I’ll wait here. But come back soon, okay?”
“Don’t worry. I’m only going to talk to him.”
I hugged my daughter, then hustled out the door, feeling guilty for leaving her but knowing I’d feel a hell of a lot worse if Homeboy reappeared later because I neglected to scare him off now.
I hoped the confrontation would end with a verbal warning, but if it turned physical I was ready. My martial arts training stood me in good stead. After seventeen years in crime-free Japan, my life on the edge of South Central had been anything but restful. While my mother worked as a freelance art curator, supplementing her spotty income with cashier jobs at Rite Aid and the like, I sparred at a pair of local dojos to keep up my karate and judo.
When the riffraff started sniffing around, I flattened a few noses with the heel of my foot and they scurried away. But I knew I’d need more to handle the big hitters, should they ever appear. Help came in the form of our next-door neighbor, a former special-ops soldier with the South Korean army. He took me under his wing to train with his teenage son, and I added tae kwon do to my skill set. Under his tutelage my awareness redoubled and my instincts grew sharper.
I trotted down the street, considering the angles, all of them bad. Double doors and quality deadbolts secured our building and kept lowlifes out. However, if you were adept, the place wasn’t impregnable. Homeboy dressed like lazy street but moved like a man on a mission. When he exited our building, he’d kept his head down. His was the experienced stealth of a burglar, or maybe a pedophile.
I caught up with Homeboy two blocks later. A set of car keys dangling from his index finger told me he’d parked nearby. I grabbed his shoulder. The instant I touched him, powerful muscles shifted under my grasp and my prey slipped loose with fluid ease, whirling to face me.
“Can I help you?”
Not exactly the lingo of his look. He spread his weight in a balancedstance, his hands relaxed but ready at his side. The keys had disappeared into a side pocket.
I said, “What were you doing outside my door?”
“Wasn’t at no one’s door. Just passing by.”
Homeboy had walnut-brown skin and shoulder-length hair. A large gold chain with a miniature Arabian dagger hung around his
“Did he say anything?”
“He asked my name.”
A coldness surged through me. “Did you tell him?”
“Sure.”
My whole body turned to ice. “And?”
“He said my name was pretty and asked if I knew whatever floor Ms. Colton lived on.”
Mental alarms blared. No one by the name of Colton lived in our building.
“When did this happen?”
“Right before I knocked.”
I ran to the window. The building’s single elevator was notoriously slow, and our view not only gave us a grand sweep of the Golden Gate Bridge but also overlooked the street from four floors up. Jenny joined me, and not five seconds later an athletic Asian male wearing baggy pants, an oversize T-shirt, and a baseball cap with the bill riding the back of his neck hit the sidewalk and headed north. Narrow airfoil sunglasses obscured his eyes.
“Is that him?”
“Uh-huh.”
My jaw clenched. “Stay here and lock the door. I’ll be right back.”
Jenny’s eyes pooled with worry. “Where are you going?”
“To have a chat with the China guy.”
“Can I come?”
“No.” I headed for the door.
Jenny grabbed my arm. “Don’t leave me, Daddy.”
She meant, Don’t go out there , with a subtext of Don’t leave me alone.
“I can’t let this pass, Jen. That man shouldn’t have been in our building talking to you.”
“That’s Mr. Kimbel’s job, not yours.”
“Once the China guy asked your name, it became my job, not the super’s. Do you want to wait at Lisa’s?”
“No, I’ll wait here. But come back soon, okay?”
“Don’t worry. I’m only going to talk to him.”
I hugged my daughter, then hustled out the door, feeling guilty for leaving her but knowing I’d feel a hell of a lot worse if Homeboy reappeared later because I neglected to scare him off now.
I hoped the confrontation would end with a verbal warning, but if it turned physical I was ready. My martial arts training stood me in good stead. After seventeen years in crime-free Japan, my life on the edge of South Central had been anything but restful. While my mother worked as a freelance art curator, supplementing her spotty income with cashier jobs at Rite Aid and the like, I sparred at a pair of local dojos to keep up my karate and judo.
When the riffraff started sniffing around, I flattened a few noses with the heel of my foot and they scurried away. But I knew I’d need more to handle the big hitters, should they ever appear. Help came in the form of our next-door neighbor, a former special-ops soldier with the South Korean army. He took me under his wing to train with his teenage son, and I added tae kwon do to my skill set. Under his tutelage my awareness redoubled and my instincts grew sharper.
I trotted down the street, considering the angles, all of them bad. Double doors and quality deadbolts secured our building and kept lowlifes out. However, if you were adept, the place wasn’t impregnable. Homeboy dressed like lazy street but moved like a man on a mission. When he exited our building, he’d kept his head down. His was the experienced stealth of a burglar, or maybe a pedophile.
I caught up with Homeboy two blocks later. A set of car keys dangling from his index finger told me he’d parked nearby. I grabbed his shoulder. The instant I touched him, powerful muscles shifted under my grasp and my prey slipped loose with fluid ease, whirling to face me.
“Can I help you?”
Not exactly the lingo of his look. He spread his weight in a balancedstance, his hands relaxed but ready at his side. The keys had disappeared into a side pocket.
I said, “What were you doing outside my door?”
“Wasn’t at no one’s door. Just passing by.”
Homeboy had walnut-brown skin and shoulder-length hair. A large gold chain with a miniature Arabian dagger hung around his
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