Chapter 88: Climbing the Brick

She looked up at him with a practiced smile. "A car like this looks like it’s missing something."

"What’s that?" Jude asked, his tone flat.

"Me in the passenger seat," she said, resting a hand near the window trim.

Before Jude could tell her to step back, two women carrying grocery bags turned the corner 30 feet away.

One of them stopped, adjusted her glasses, and grabbed the other woman’s arm.

"Eleanor, look by the gate," she said, her voice carrying across the sidewalk. "Isn’t that the young man Lola has been seeing? Who is that standing right up against him?"

Jude glanced over, recognizing the speaker as Mrs. Song, the neighbor who had run into him and Lola the previous week.

Beside her was a stern-faced woman looking straight at the car, her expression tightening by the second: Lola Grant’s mother.

Jude looked back at the woman beside him, letting out a dry breath.

Dinner had started early...

Jude caught the reflection of Mrs. Song and Eleanor Grant in the side mirror, smoothly stepped back, and put distance between himself and the woman in the sundress.

"I think there’s a misunderstanding," Jude said. "You asked for a photo by the car, and I agreed. Asking to get in is out of line."

The woman’s smile tightened as she looked at him.

"We don’t know each other," Jude continued evenly. "And I’m already in a relationship. Step back from the car, please."

The color left her face, then rushed back in embarrassment.

Several neighbors near the gate turned to look, including the guard in the booth and a man walking his dog.

The woman pulled her bag up, turned on her heel, and walked quickly down the street without looking back.

A quiet murmur went through the walkway.

"Good to see someone set a boundary," the man with the dog said, giving Jude a nod.

"No kidding," a resident nearby agreed. "Handled that cleanly."

30 feet away, the tension on Eleanor Grant’s face vanished. She turned to Mrs. Song with a sharp look.

"You hear that, Margaret?" Eleanor said, shifting her grocery bag. "You were ready to jump to conclusions, and the man was just dealing with someone on the street."

Mrs. Song’s smirk faded into an awkward nod. "Well, from where we were standing, it looked different."

Catching the shift in mood, Jude turned toward them as if seeing them for the first time, walking over with a polite smile.

"Mrs. Song, good to see you again," Jude greeted smoothly, then turned to Eleanor. "And you must be Lola’s mother. Good to meet you, Mrs. Grant. I’m Jude Lawson."

Eleanor looked him over, taking in his tailored suit and steady demeanor.

He was far more put together than Mrs. Song’s complaints had suggested.

"Please, call me Eleanor," she said warmly. "Where’s Lola? Didn’t she come with you?"

"She was wrapping up paperwork at the precinct," Jude said. "She told me to meet her here. She should be here shortly."

"Look at that, coordinated already," Mrs. Song chimed in, quickly changing her tone. "We heard how you handled that woman just now. Very direct. Eleanor, you found a good one."

Jude gave a brief nod, recognizing the rapid pivot.

Eleanor smiled, clearly pleased. "Don’t keep him standing by the curb, Margaret. Jude, we’re in Building 12, just past the garden. Pull the car around to the front. We’ll meet you by the lobby."

"Let me take those bags for you, Eleanor. I can put them in the trunk."

"No need, it’s just a few groceries and we’re right around the corner," Eleanor said, waving him on. "Go ahead and park."

Jude walked back to the Koenigsegg, got in, and guided the car through the gate.

"Honestly, Margaret," Eleanor said as they walked down the path, "for 3 years that girl avoided every introduction, and now she brings home someone solid."

"We’ll see," Mrs. Song replied dryly, keeping her eyes forward. "Though Mr. Cho from the freight line was still interested. Runs a solid shipping operation."

"A barge contractor isn’t what she was looking for," Eleanor said with a quiet laugh. "Come on, let’s get upstairs. I need to prep dinner before Lola gets home."

As they rounded the walkway toward Building 12, the noise ahead made them stop.

In the plaza outside Building 11, a crowd of about 40 residents had gathered, looking straight up at the facade while people shouted from the courtyard.

Eleanor and Mrs. Song hurried to the edge of the group and looked up.

10 floors up a small boy was crying from an open window.

He had climbed out onto the exterior sill, and his legs had slipped through a gap in the security bars. Only his arms and shoulders were keeping him from falling.

"Miller and two guys ran up to 10B," a tenant near the front called out. "The door is deadbolted from the outside! No one is answering!"

"Where are the parents?" a woman said, watching the boy shift against the metal.

"FDNY is on the way," a man said, checking his phone. "Gridlock on Queens Boulevard, though. The truck won’t make it in time, and you can’t catch someone from that height."

Eleanor held her bag tight, her face pale. "His hands are slipping. Someone has to get up there."

"The door is locked and the wall is flat," Mrs. Song said, shaking her head. "Nobody’s climbing that without equipment."

Cutting through the steel door upstairs would take several minutes, and the bracket outside the window was visibly loose.

Footsteps moved quickly along the edge of the pavers.

Jude, having parked in front of Building 12, crossed the plaza in seconds. He pulled off his jacket, dropped it onto a concrete planter, and looked up at the 10th-floor window.

At that angle, he could see the rust along the mounting bolts.

Between the elevator delay and 10 flights of stairs, getting through the front door would take at least 45 seconds. The bracket wasn’t going to hold that long.

"Clear the base of the wall," Jude said, his voice cutting through the noise.

He stepped past the crowd, walked straight to the brick base of Building 11, and jumped... grabbing the stone ledge above the ground-floor window and pulling himself upward with explosive momentum.

The courtyard went quiet.

Eleanor clamped a hand over her mouth. "Margaret... isn’t that Jude?"

Beside her, Mrs. Song stared up at the wall. "H-He’s climbing the building?!"