My cell phone rang.
“She’s on the move,” Mechanic said. “Black Audi A8. Sports package. She’s heading to the Eisenhower.”
“Is she alone?” I asked.
“Just her and one of those tiny yelpy dogs sitting on her lap. Damn hot for a doctor.”
“Times have changed since we were growing up.”
“Getting a little sick might not be so bad if she’s the one taking care of you.”
“Actually, it would be,” I said. “She’s a head doctor, not a urologist. Keep close, but be careful. She’s a firecracker. I’m over here in Wicker Park. The husband is inside a building next to a wireless store and guitar shop. No signage and bars across the windows. Let’s see what surprises our dynamic duo has in store for us.”
“Copy that.”
I pulled up the browser on my phone and googled the address. It brought up a street map that had a photo of the front of the building as well as the rest of the block. I moved the arrow on the screen, which moved the images and my point of view several blocks west of the building as if I were actually driving down the street. I reversed course and held down the opposite arrow. This brought me back east all the way to the expressway. There was no name or any other identifier to the building other than the address painted on the corner.
I dialed Carolina’s number. She answered on the second ring.
“You’re awake,” I said.
“Barely,” she replied. “Why are you up so early on a Saturday?”
“Quivering a radiation.”
“Which would be?”
“Pursuing a persnickety physician.”
“Alliteration so early in the morning?”
“I’m constantly in search of new ways to impress you.”
“Dinner last night wasn’t a bad start.”
“Wait till you get all seven courses.”
She laughed, and I wondered how nice it would be waking up next to her every morning. But it was only a fleeting thought. I was in no mental state to handle a commitment right now.
“I need you to check out an address for me,” I said.
“Saturdays I get time and a half,” she said. “And home-baked desserts. I’ll text you when I have my computer up and running and a cup of coffee in hand.”
Just as I disconnected the call, Mechanic was on the line.
“We’re still on the road,” he said.
“Where in the hell are you going? Canada?”
“Feels like it. She just took the Edens Expressway heading north. She’s been on the phone the entire time. She’s a really fast driver to be a doctor.”
“They’re the worst,” I said. “Everything they tell their patients to do, they do just the opposite. Every time my father gets behind the wheel, he thinks he’s at the Indy 500. There’s something about all that medical knowledge that makes them feel invincible.”
“I feel that way with no medical knowledge.”
“Which is why I always pick you on my team.”
I decided to try a different surveillance position. I moved the car toward the corner of Division, then turned it facing south on Wood. I could see the front of the building as well as the entrance to the parking lot in the rear. There were two cameras posted along the roofline and one posted on the corner near the walkway that led down the side of the building. What kind of building sitting in the middle of a small row of storefronts needed this kind of security? A steady stream of foot traffic passed, most of it going into the wireless store, but no one going into the middle building. Then an Uber pulled up and stopped in front. A young girl got out carrying a canvas duffel bag. She hesitated once she closed the car door, looking left, then right before walking quickly down the pathway.
Fifteen minutes later, a taxi pulled up. The back door opened, and a well-dressed Latina woman somewhere in her forties got out, followed by a girl with a backpack who looked exactly like her, except she was a couple of inches taller and thirty pounds on the lighter side. They made a beeline to the side entrance.
My phone rang.
“We just got off the expressway,” Mechanic said. “Some exit called Willow Road. Not only is she a fast driver, but obviously no one ever taught her how to use turn signals.”
“She still on the phone?”
“Hasn’t gotten off since she got in the car,” Mechanic said. “Damn, these houses are gigantic up here.”
I had a good idea where the good doctor might be going, but it didn’t make complete sense.
“Stay on her, but be easy up there,” I said. “They have a lot of security patrols that don’t take too kindly to us city folk driving through their leafy neighborhoods. Let me know when she reaches her destination.”
I kept watching the front of the building. No one else had gone in, and no one had left. However, a constant flow of people continued to enter the wireless store. I sent the photographs I had taken to Carolina’s cell phone, then turned on Drake’s “God’s Plan” in my playlist. He started rapping about being calm and not wanting trouble and how much of a struggle it was for him to remain peaceful.
Several minutes later, Carolina texted me back. She was logged in to her database and asked me for the address. I sent it to her. She promised to get back to me as
