CHAPTER FOUR
Liam
The first thing I noticed when I walked onto the floor on Tuesday was that Nora wasn’t there.
I wasn’t looking for her or anything. My eyes just moved through the room like they always did at the start of every shift.
I checked the exits, counted the staff, and looked for anything that was out of place before the bar filled with customers.
The bartenders were already stocking bottles behind the counter.
Servers carried trays between tables as they got ready for the evening rush.
The kitchen doors swung open every second as cooks shouted to each other over the noise of clattering pans. Everything looked like it should. By the time my eyes finished their usual circuit of the room, I confirmed Nora wasn’t there. I frowned a little without thinking much of it.
There were multiple deliveries to expect, two bookings in the back room, and a boxing match on the TVs later that evening. That meant we’d probably have trouble once people started drinking. By the time the security briefing ended, I’d pushed the thought of Nora out of my mind.
For the next hour I did exactly what I always did.
I greeted the regulars who nodded as they walked in.
I settled a disagreement over a reservation before it turned into an argument.
I quietly told one of the bartenders to cut off a customer who’d already had more than enough to drink.
It was work, the kind that becomes almost automatic after enough years.
I usually liked the routine because it left little room for surprises, but I caught myself glancing toward the staff room more than once.
Every time the door opened, I looked up without thinking, expecting Nora to step onto the floor carrying a tray or straightening her apron.
Every time, it was someone else. After catching myself doing it for the hundredth time, I felt a little irritated.
People missed shifts. They swapped hours, called in sick, or picked up work elsewhere.
There was nothing unusual about her absence.
Nora Walsh wasn’t a full-time employee. She worked mornings in a café.
So if she’d decided to stay home, that had absolutely nothing to do with me.
I reminded myself of that more than once, but the explanation never seemed to make much difference.
My eyes kept drifting toward the staff room. About halfway through the evening, Paddy wandered over, carrying a clipboard.
“Quiet tonight,” he said.
“So far,” I replied.
He nodded toward one of the waiters struggling to balance a tray full of cocktails and chuckled under his breath. “At least nobody spilled a drink on you tonight.”
The memory came back before I could stop it. It was ridiculous that I remembered such an incident so clearly when far more serious things had faded from my memory long ago. I shook the thought away before looking across the room.
“Where’s the new girl?” I asked.
Paddy glanced around before answering. “Nora? She called this afternoon. Said she wasn’t feeling well. I told her to get some rest. She’ll probably be back tomorrow.”
I nodded. My attention was already back on the crowd, as though the answer meant nothing. It should have settled the matter. There was nothing off about calling in sick. For reasons I couldn’t explain, I found myself hoping Paddy was right about Nora returning tomorrow.
The night had settled into its routine by the time I noticed him.
He wasn’t being loud or doing anything to draw attention to himself.
He just walked into the bar, stopped for a moment, and looked around.
To everyone else, he was just another customer looking for a place to sit.
To me he stood out, because people who came to the bar usually knew what they wanted before they arrived.
They headed to the bar to find their friends and grab a table. They watched the game on TV.
This guy didn’t do any of those things. He looked at peoples’ faces with patience, like he was really taking his time. He talked to the staff members for a little while before moving on. He wasn’t looking at the room like customers usually did.
I didn’t want him to know that I’d noticed him. When people think nobody is watching, they show themselves. Every now and then I caught a glimpse of him through the crowd. He walked slowly between the tables, didn’t sit down, and didn’t order anything from the bar.
He didn’t talk to the other customers. He looked at every waitress for a few seconds, like he was comparing her face to one he already knew. By the time he’d walked around half of the room, I knew he was looking for a specific person. He was being very deliberate about it.
That wasn’t enough to worry me, though. People came to the bar looking for friends, family, coworkers, and dates all the time. Those people usually looked unsure, checking their phones and looking around.
This guy wasn’t like that. He moved with a confidence that seemed a bit fake, like he was trying to convince himself he belonged here. It felt like he wasn’t searching; he was hunting. That was enough to keep me watching him.
He changed direction and walked toward the counter, where Paddy and I were helping one of the bartenders with some papers. The man told Paddy he was looking for someone. Paddy looked up from what he was doing and asked who.
“Nora Walsh.”
The name sent a jolt through me. A dozen thoughts rushed through my head at once, but instinct moved faster than any of them. Before Paddy could answer, I spoke.
“Never heard of her.”
The stranger turned his attention to me. His face remained calm, but his eyes lingered on my face, studying me as though he was trying to decide whether I was telling the truth.
“You sure?”
I nodded. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then he gave a slight nod.
“My mistake.” He turned and walked away as quietly as he’d arrived.
I watched him leave before looking back at Paddy.
Confusion was written across his face. He was clearly trying to understand why I’d answered a question that hadn’t been directed at me.
He started to speak, but I already knew what he was going to say.
“I know. Just watch the floor for a minute.”
Paddy held my gaze for a second before giving a small nod. He didn’t ask any more questions. By the time I stepped outside, the man was already making his way down the street, walking with the steady purpose of someone who had somewhere to be. A knot formed in my stomach.
If I let him disappear without finding out why he was asking for Nora, I knew I’d regret it. Without another thought, I followed him.
When I stepped out of the bar, the stranger had nearly reached the middle of the block. I left that distance between us and stepped into the steady stream of people wandering along the sidewalk, fighting against my instinct to close that space simply because I could.
At the next intersection, he crossed the street while I stood waiting for the traffic lights to change.
Although this cost me a few seconds, it also kept enough space between us that I became just part of the evening crowd.
He never looked back. He walked with the confidence of somebody who already knew where he was going, turning only when the path required it, never pausing long enough to look at a street sign.
This clearly wasn’t the first time he’d been in this part of Boston.
As I walked by an abandoned bookstore, I saw him in the reflection on the window, but I turned away so he wouldn’t see me looking at him.
After years of working security, I’d learned that people looked at your eyes before anything else.
He’d stared into my face long enough at the bar that I knew he’d recognize me, and I wasn’t interested in being a memorable part of his night.
Nora Walsh. He’d said her name like he knew her, which reminded me of the background check I’d ordered weeks before.
Back then, I told myself it was just curiosity. I’d been drawn to a nervous-looking waitress with watchful eyes, and I wanted to know why. When I received the report, it was thinner than I’d expected and oddly vacant in ways it shouldn’t have been.
There was nothing on her life before she came to Boston, like somebody had ripped out the first half of a novel and left only the final chapters. I recalled sitting at my desk for longer than I wanted to admit, flipping the pages as though something new would emerge if I stared long enough.
But for the first time, it struck me that maybe I wasn’t the only one with questions about Nora Walsh.
The stranger finally slowed down when he reached the end of the street, and I also slowed without stopping.
It was too late to close the distance now.
Whatever had drawn him here, he was getting near his goal, and if I didn’t want to be spotted I couldn’t move carelessly.
I crossed to the other sidewalk, putting some parked cars between us, and he walked another thirty yards.
He stopped at an apartment building. He didn’t go up to the entrance or buzz the button next to the front door. He didn’t check his phone to confirm where he was. Instead, he remained still, with his hands tucked in his jacket pockets as he stared at the apartment building.
My eyes wandered to the number bolted above the entrance. For one second, it meant nothing. Then I recalled, with such shocking clarity that, for a moment, I was back at my desk, looking at the background check: this was her address. This was the building Nora lived in.
I watched the stranger, who hadn’t moved an inch. He wasn’t counting windows or figuring out which apartment was hers. He wasn’t looking toward the entrance, either.
His voice back at the bar had been smooth, matter-of-fact, almost indifferent…because he’d already known where Nora lived when he walked into the bar and asked for her by name.
I had to stay right where I was, which required immense self-control because every instinct screamed at me to close the distance. The street had become quieter since we got there, only the occasional car driving between us and a small number of residents walking back home.
An older couple disappeared into the building with grocery bags, and a minute later a young man came out with headphones on, never giving his surroundings a second glance.
The stranger ignored them all. What had drawn him there was none of the traffic that came and went.
His eyes never strayed far from the building itself.
Many long minutes went by before he looked at his watch.
He seemed to be unaffected as he turned from the apartments and walked back the way he’d arrived, not a hint of disappointment or urgency in his long stride.
As soon as I saw him go around the corner, I waited one more minute.
I’d rather lose him than let him find out I was following him.
I waited until I was sure he wouldn’t return before crossing the street and standing outside the entrance.
I didn’t plan to head inside. I still didn’t know exactly what was at stake, so despite the questions knocking against my skull, I wasn’t ready to scare Nora about something I couldn’t explain.
Instead, I stood there for a moment, staring at the building and thinking through how the night had gone until all the pieces started to come together.
A woman with a hidden past.
A background report with nothing but holes.
A strange man asking for her by name.
That same stranger standing outside her apartment after leaving Murphy’s.
None of those things completely proved that Nora was in danger, and I refused to invent threats just because my imagination filled in the blanks.
I knew from experience that assumptions got people burned, but I also knew from experience that patterns should be respected, especially unexplained ones.
I put my hands in my pockets and walked away from the building, already knowing where I’d go next. The background check I’d ordered weeks earlier wasn’t wrong, but it hadn’t dug far enough. I had a reason to push harder now. This wasn’t just simple curiosity anymore.
I would tell the boys that I needed more on that initial report. I wanted every record that existed, all the old addresses, every job she’d ever held, any aliases associated with her.
I walked back toward the bar as another thought quietly settled into place. For the past few weeks, I’d been investigating Nora Walsh because she was intriguing. Now I was doing it because someone else had decided she was worth watching, and I couldn’t walk away until I knew exactly why.