Monday after Thanksgiving, 2006

It's been nearly a year since the attack unfortunate accident, and the New York branch of Wolfram & Hart has moved back into its newly renovated office space. A handful of lawsuits in both directions have been quietly settled out of court (and, in one particularly thorny case, out of dimension; there are all kinds of places to refer angry relatives who just won't stop asking questions, if you have the resources).

In short, business is running smoothly. And, to ensure that business continues to run smoothly, security in the building is tighter than ever.

But security's not nearly so tight in the office building around the other side of the little park, and there's an unobstructed view from its roof to the front entrance of W&H. And Jordie knows this to be the case, as she spent a good part of Thanksgiving weekend finding out.

Today she sends a couple of text messages from her cellphone on the way up. The first one is very carefully timed:

cristofer - weathers bad here & my dads worried about the roads, wont be able 2 get back til tomorrow or maybe weds but didnt want u 2 worry - txt me if u need me. :)

The second one's quicker:

no sign so far, will be here till weds & keep u posted

There's a new text message waiting for her when she's finished sending the second, but it's not from her Watcher.

Jojo - we all missed you at Thanksgiving. Sorry you couldn't make it home after all. Maybe Christmas instead? Let me know. Love, Dad.

She studies it for a few seconds, then snaps her phone shut and pockets it.

Once on the roof, she settles in quickly. She's got a pair of gloves, a hat and scarf, a nonreflective sleeping bag for both warmth and camouflage, a digital camera with a zoom lens, a thermos of hot cocoa, five energy bars, and a foil-wrapped packet of turkey sandwiches.

And all day to see if a certain person goes in or comes out through those doors across the park.