The Stakeout

The roof felt more sterile and work-like than she hoped. Each second she stayed there felt like an hour. Letty’s expectations about the stakeout on top of the building felt more exciting than reality. When she had found herself on a roof before, she had been in the throes of passion and a mind-altering chemical.  

Now, she just felt bored. 

She positioned herself like a sniper, lying down with her camera facing the hotel’s door across the street. But her ribcage ached from laying down for so long on the hard roof. She ran a strand of her crimson hair between her fingers. Hoping that fidgeting with something would help alleviate her boredom. 

She rolled from side to side, attempting to alleviate the pain. It felt good to move, but the pain remained. As she rolled up onto her left side, she felt the baggie in her pocket. The contents of the baggie called to her. She ignored the call—for now. Plus, if she used the remaining contents of the baggie, she’d have none left. It would take her focus from the task at hand, getting proof of a husband cheating. 

Her business had dwindled recently. People always needed proof of infidelity or faked injury, but not as many came to her door lately. She had found herself in a tight spot monetarily. Her lights wouldn’t stay on if she couldn’t pay for them soon.

But the call was strong. One quick hit would make her forget the discomfort. It could free her from boredom. 

But she had this case close to finished. If she stayed focused, she could lock up the case, get the check, and keep the lights on. 

She spent the last week looking for this scumbag. It took her much longer than she had expected. She should have quoted the woman more money. 

 Eight days ago, the client barged into her office, crying. The woman, Mary, felt that her deadbeat husband cheated on her. Two days before that, he left in the middle of the night. He never returned. 

Not only did she need the money for the case, but she also felt for the couple’s daughter. Single mothers and their abandoned kids reached her heart in a way other cases didn’t.  

Her mind raced to her son, Scotty. She remembered how much he had cried when she dropped him off at her sister’s. Letty thought he would be used to staying with his aunt by now, but he cried every time she dropped him off. He grew up with his aunt more than his own mother, but she couldn’t bring him on her cases. 

The guilt felt worse than the pain in her ribs. 

Which brought her back to the issue at hand. She kept the camera focused on the hotel across the street. Once you passed through the office, the rest of the hotel offered two floors with rooms on either side of the square building. All doors faced the outside with simple numbers and small windows that didn’t let much light in or out. A large pink and green neon sign bathed the roof she was on with a pink tint, read The Breeze Motel.

She pivoted up to a sitting position, took a deep breath, and tried to keep herself from worrying. She had thought the missing husband would have arrived by now. Three hours in, he hadn’t appeared. She feared all the wasted time she spent here if she were wrong. 

For the past week, she built the pieces of her theory. His phone appeared to be off so they couldn’t trace that. According to his wife, no one from his usual spots had seen him, and he hadn’t shown up for work. It had taken a couple of days for the giant Tech company on the other side of the river to confirm that he hadn’t been to work for a few weeks now. Letty flagged that he had stopped going to work weeks before his wife even contacted him. That didn’t usually happen unless the husband went on a bender at the same time as the affair.  

So Letty started with her contacts, that knew all the comings and goings on the street. When that didn’t pan out, she checked all the hotels on her side of the river. People went to the Southside to get away from everything, while those that came into money headed North. 

No one having an affair would go to the north side of town. The hotels on the Southside rented by the hour instead of the night. The woman working the desk of the first hotel on her list had seen him, but she also confirmed that he checked out the next day. The next hotel on her list said the same thing. He checked in for one night and left the next day. 

Luckily, it only took her visiting one more hotel to hypothesize where he’d be next.  It turns out that the man just went down the list of hotels in a basic internet search—one night at each hotel. Something so simple but often times overlooked in her profession. 

Sitting at the next hotel on the list, waiting for him to show up, felt excruciating. She felt numb. 

That left one option. 

She craned her neck. Cracks sounded as she moved side to side. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the baggie. She weighed the bag in her hand. It called to her. 

She reached in with her pinky fingernail and scooped some out. Just enough to take the edge off. It was just enough to end her boredom but not enough to make it impossible to do her job. She sniffed before she could weigh the choices. 

The chemical invaded her bloodstream like a parasite. Her eyes tried to roll into the back of her head, but she wouldn’t let it. She wouldn’t let the drugs take control of her right now. She only wanted to take the edge off. 

As Letty looked out at the street again, the neon pink from The Breeze’s sign highlighted a couple walking towards the hotel. She shook her head, hoping to clear the tint from the sign, to prove that there was truth in what she saw. 

She grasped the camera in her hands. She swiveled the lens to get a better look at the couple.

Bingo.

She could recognize his light brown skin from anywhere. He stood towering over the woman he had his arms wrapped around. He kept his hair and beard trimmed just enough to have some stubble. His skinny jeans had rips in all the right places, while his shirt looked like a perfectly pressed button-up. His arm appeared covered in a sleeve of tattoos. If he didn’t work for a tech company on the other side of the river, 

Letty didn’t recognize the girl, but she looked like the polar opposite of her client. This girl he wrapped his arm around stood at least a foot smaller than the recently estranged wife. Her jet black hair, tinted pink momentarily by the neon sign, contrasted Mary’s natural blonde. She looked more petite but still had curves in places, although Letty figured carefully crafted clothing and pain held it together. 

If you’re going to leave your family, might as well go completely opposite from before.

“Got you, you son of a bitch,” Letty said. She flicked the shutter button quickly. 

The man and the woman strode into the lobby. After a couple of minutes and handing over some cash, the couple moved back outside and towards a room on the second floor. Letty’s camera documented the entire walk. 

She leaned back as they entered the room. The client only wanted the man found, not the pictures. Those she took for another purpose. She found him. She simply needed to call the wife, and the case would be closed. She could pay the bills.

Or she could try to make more money from him. Show him one of the pictures and offer him a deal.

She packed up her camera and looked for a way off the god-forsaken roof. 

See what happens in Chapter 2: The Counter Offer or order your copy of Letty Rose in the Mistaken Identity (Kindle | Apple Books).