Page 45 of How To Not Need You

"Thank you."

Before I can come up with a reply, she's already heading back towards the counter.

Ben is halfway through suggesting disguises. "I reckon sunglasses are too obvious. We need subtle. Fake moustaches, maybe wigs"

I stop listening after fake moustaches. Luca watches me over the rim of his espresso, looking entirely too satisfied with himself. I don't need him to say a word. He's thinking he’s won. That he’s manipulated us exactly where he wants us.

And, irritatingly, he is right.

My car smells like stale coffee and two grown men making questionable life choices.

We've parked across the street from a row of Seabrook shopfronts. Pharmacy. Florist. Small grocery store. Direct line of sight to the café where Rebecca was last seen.

Ben picked the spot.

Ben also brought binoculars.

They're hanging around his neck like he's starring in a low-budget spy movie, while a spiral notebook rests on his knee.

Across the front, in thick black marker, he's written:

Detective Ben.

Underlined twice.

I decide not to ask.

My takeaway coffee gave up pretending to be hot half an hour ago, but I take another sip anyway.

Ben hasn't stopped talking since we parked.

"Woman with a corgi. Eleven o'clock."

I glance up.

"Moving at approximately walking pace." He scribbles something down. "Dark jacket. Blue lead. Dog appears slightly overweight."

I stare at him.

"Ben."

"What?"

"We're following Rebecca."

"I know."

"So why are you profiling the corgi?"

"You never know what's relevant."

I stare straight ahead at the pharmacy awning, where a seagull has been sitting motionless for the past twenty minutes, occasionally shifting its weight from one foot to the other like it’s having second thoughts about the entire concept of perching.

“Delivery truck, blocking our view of the florist. Driver is male, approximately forty, wearing a cap. He’s carrying what appears to be flowers. To the florist.”

I try hard not to roll my eyes, but fail miserably. “Groundbreaking intelligence, Ben.”

Ben ignores me. “Truck is moving. Our sightline is clearing. Stand by.”