Chapter 9 The Truth Burns #2
Instead, he typed the truth.
No. But I think I finally understand why.
The reply came quickly.
Come over.
Gideon looked across the street.
Reyes Ink was visible beyond the traffic.
For once, he didn't hesitate.
He crossed toward it.
The warehouse had taken six years from him.
He wasn't going to let the truth take the rest.
Someone Is Watching
Nico noticed the car because it had been there before.
At first, he didn't think anything of it.
The dark sedan was parked across the street from Reyes Ink, close enough to the curb that its presence was easy to miss among the other vehicles. Nico had seen it that morning when he unlocked the studio, but he hadn't given it a second thought.
By noon, it was still there.
By three, it remained in the same spot.
That was when he started paying attention.
He stood behind the front counter and watched through the glass without making it obvious.
The driver's face was difficult to see through the windshield. The windows were slightly tinted, and the afternoon sun reflected off the glass.
Nico turned away.
Coincidence.
That was all.
The neighborhood had plenty of reasons for a car to remain parked for hours. Someone could be waiting for a client. Someone could be working nearby. Someone could simply prefer sitting in their car.
Nico returned to his work.
Twenty minutes later, he looked outside again.
The sedan was still there.
He told himself it meant nothing.
Then Gideon crossed the street.
Nico saw him coming before Gideon reached the door.
Even from a distance, there was something unmistakable about him. The broad shoulders. The steady stride. The way he automatically scanned the street before entering a building.
Nico smiled despite himself.
Gideon opened the door.
“You're staring.”
“I was looking at the street.”
“Sure.”
Gideon glanced through the front window.
His expression changed almost immediately.
“What?”
Nico looked toward the sedan.
Gideon studied it.
“How long has that been there?”
Nico's stomach tightened.
“Most of the day.”
“Same car?”
“Yes.”
“Has anyone gotten out?”
“Not that I've seen.”
Gideon walked closer to the window.
His entire posture changed.
Nico had seen this before.
The relaxed man who had kissed him disappeared.
The firefighter returned.
Alert.
Controlled.
Ready.
“Don't stare at it,” Gideon said.
“I wasn't.”
“You were.”
Nico looked at him.
“Is that a problem?”
“No.”
Gideon kept watching the reflection in the glass instead of looking directly at the car.
“Just don't let whoever's inside know you've noticed them.”
Nico folded his arms.
“You think they're watching me?”
“I don't know.”
“But you think it's possible.”
Gideon nodded.
“It's possible.”
Nico glanced toward the car again.
The sedan was still there.
“What do we do?”
Gideon looked at him.
“We don't panic.”
Nico smiled faintly.
“I wasn't planning to.”
“I know.”
Gideon reached for his phone.
“I'll get the plate.”
Before he could move, the sedan started.
The vehicle pulled away from the curb and disappeared around the corner.
Gideon watched it go.
Nico remained beside him.
“That was convenient.”
“Yes.”
“You think they knew you were here?”
“I think they may have noticed us noticing them.”
Nico looked at him.
“That's not reassuring.”
“It wasn't meant to be.”
Gideon put his phone away.
“Call me if it comes back.”
“I can handle a parked car.”
“I know.”
Gideon looked at him.
“Call me anyway.”
Nico nodded.
Gideon touched his hand briefly.
The gesture was small.
Chosen.
Then he left.
For the next few hours, nothing happened.
Nico tried to return to normal.
He worked on a floral cover-up for a client.
He answered messages.
He cleaned his equipment.
He talked with Mateo about an upcoming appointment.
But every time the front door opened, Nico looked outside.
The sedan didn't return.
By closing time, he almost felt foolish.
He locked the front door and turned off the main lights.
Then he noticed a different vehicle.
A silver SUV was parked farther down the street.
Nico stopped.
It hadn't been there earlier.
He stood still for several seconds.
The SUV didn't move.
The driver's face was hidden.
Nico walked toward the back of the studio.
He didn't want to stand in the window and stare.
He picked up his phone.
He considered calling Gideon.
Then the SUV drove away.
Nico lowered the phone.
Maybe it was nothing.
Maybe he was becoming paranoid.
The photograph had changed the way he looked at the world.
Before, he saw tattoos.
People.
Work.
Now he saw patterns.
Missing names.
Contradictions.
Questions.
He reminded himself that fear could create connections where none existed.
So he went home.
The next morning, the dark sedan was back.
Nico saw it before he unlocked the studio.
He stood on the sidewalk with his keys in his hand.
The car was parked half a block away.
Same color.
Same shape.
Same tinted windows.
Nico's stomach tightened.
He entered the studio without looking toward it again.
Inside, he locked the door behind him.
He called Gideon.
“Morning.”
“You're up early.”
“So are you.”
“I work at a firehouse.”
“You're impossible.”
“I've been told.”
Nico smiled.
Then his expression became serious.
“The car is back.”
There was silence on the other end.
“Same one?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Nico gave him the location.
“Don't go outside.”
“I wasn't planning to.”
“I'm coming.”
“You don't have to.”
“I know.”
Gideon's voice was calm.
“That doesn't mean I'm not coming.”
The call ended.
Nico looked through the blinds.
The sedan remained parked.
He waited.
Twenty minutes later, Gideon appeared from across the street.
He didn't walk directly toward Nico's studio.
Instead, he stopped outside the firehouse and watched the street.
The sedan pulled away.
Gideon's phone came out.
A minute later, Nico's phone vibrated.
It's gone. Don't leave alone.
Nico typed back.
Bossy.
The response came immediately.
Yes.
Nico smiled.
Then the smile faded.
Someone was watching.
There was no denying it anymore.
The pattern had become too consistent.
The photograph had been taken before the warehouse fire.
The tattooed man had disappeared from the records.
Nico had helped identify details that might lead investigators toward him.
And now someone was repeatedly watching the studio.
The connection was difficult to ignore.
That afternoon, Nico received the message.
It arrived from an unknown number.
There was no greeting.
No explanation.
Only one sentence.
Stop looking into the South Harbor fire.
Nico stared at the screen.
His first thought was that it was a prank.
His second was Gideon.
He immediately called him.
Gideon answered on the first ring.
“What happened?”
“I got a message.”
“From who?”
“Unknown number.”
“What does it say?”
Nico read it aloud.
Silence followed.
“Send me a screenshot.”
Nico did.
Gideon called again almost immediately.
“Don't respond.”
“I wasn't going to.”
“Don't delete it.”
“I won't.”
“Are you alone?”
“Yes.”
“Lock the door.”
“It is locked.”
“Check the back.”
Nico walked toward the rear entrance.
He checked the lock.
“Locked.”
“Windows?”
“Locked.”
“Good.”
Nico leaned against the wall.
“Gideon.”
“I'm here.”
“They know.”
“Yes.”
The answer was quiet.
“They know about the photograph.”
“Probably.”
“How?”
“I don't know.”
Nico looked around the studio.
Everything appeared normal.
The tattoo machines were in place.
The drawings were pinned to the walls.
The chairs were empty.
Nothing looked disturbed.
Yet the room suddenly felt different.
“What if they know everything?”
“They don't.”
“You don't know that.”
“No.”
Gideon's voice remained steady.
“But if they knew everything, they wouldn't need to warn you.”
Nico thought about that.
“Then why warn me?”
“To scare you.”
“It worked.”
There was a pause.
“Are you afraid?”
Nico looked toward the front window.
“Yes.”
He expected Gideon to tell him not to be.
Instead, Gideon said, “Good.”
Nico frowned.
“Good?”
“Fear keeps you alert.”
“That sounds like something you would say.”
“Because it's true.”
Nico smiled faintly.
Then his expression became serious.
“What happens now?”
“I come over.”
“You're working.”
“I'll find someone to cover me.”
“Gideon.”
“No.”
The firmness in his voice made Nico smile despite himself.
“You don't get to tell me what to do,” Nico said.
“I know.”
“Then?”
“Then I'm asking you to let me be there.”
Nico went quiet.
That was different.
Gideon wasn't ordering him to stay safe.
He wasn't deciding for him.
He was asking.
Nico looked at the message again.
Stop looking into the South Harbor fire.
The words no longer felt like an anonymous warning.
They felt like confirmation.
Someone knew.
Someone had noticed the photograph.
Someone understood that Nico had seen something the original investigation had missed.
And whoever that person was, they wanted the past to remain buried.
Nico looked at the tattoo photograph sitting inside a locked drawer.
He had spent his life working with ink.
He knew that tattoos were permanent marks.
They could be altered.
Covered.
Expanded.
But traces remained.
The same was true of evidence.
People could change records.
They could remove names.
They could rewrite timelines.
But sometimes something survived.
A photograph.
A tattoo.
A memory.
A scar.
Nico picked up his phone.
“Come over.”
“I will.”
“And Gideon?”
“Yeah?”
“I'm not stopping.”
There was a pause.
Then Gideon's voice softened.
“I know.”
Nico ended the call.
He stood in the middle of the studio and looked around.
The place had always been where people came to put permanent marks on their bodies.
Now someone was trying to leave a different kind of mark on him.
Fear.
Silence.
A warning.
Nico refused to let it work.
He locked the photograph away.
Then he looked toward the street.
The sedan was gone.
But he knew now that didn't mean he was alone.
Someone had been watching.
Someone knew what he had discovered.
And for the first time, Nico understood that the warehouse fire wasn't simply an old tragedy waiting to be understood.
It was a secret someone was still willing to protect.
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