It had taken three weeks to find McCall - the bitch always managed to keep her distance and her hands clean.
Her strict no-contact policy kept her underlings in line and out of her hair. The men on the streets spoke with middlemen, and the middlemen talked to one of three upper management guys. Those three were in contact with one of two senior managers, whose connection with their boss, McCall, was only ever virtual.
It cost more this way, but it also meant McCall was free to live her life as usual. She could take her kids to school and go on dates with her husband, or boyfriend, without fear or the need for a security team.
Grace had been given a little advantage, of course. She skipped over the guys on the street and the middlemen and started following Kane, one of the upper management men, from the get-go. Her client even gave her boss the name and location he was known to work from. The place his daughter had met Kane, and the place she went on to overdose at. It was a club in Miami called El Sudor.
Grace spent a week in the Florida heat watching Kane and his men. His days were mostly the same, which made following him easy. He was up by 7am every day, running along the beach to his gym with two men in tow. The three men worked out for an hour before running home and chugging protein shakes. All three were showered and ready for the day by 9am.