Chapter 5
The Hudson train platform shimmered in the oppressive afternoon heat as Jake stepped off, his legs unsteady from more than just the journey. Warren Street stretched before him like a stage set—picturesque storefronts lined with antique shops and galleries catering to city weekenders seeking authentic rural charm. He walked with deliberate casualness, forcing his shoulders to relax, his pace to remain unhurried. Just another visitor exploring small-town America.
Nothing to hide.
The Red Dot's door felt heavier than it should as Jake pushed inside, escaping the brutal sun. The interior offered blessed dimness—exposed brick walls adorned with eclectic artwork, mismatched vintage furniture creating the kind of comfortable atmosphere that normally would have appealed to him. Now it felt like theater, a set where he needed to perform the role of innocent man.
Jake chose a seat at the bar strategically, positioning himself where he'd be easily seen and remembered. The bartender approached—a woman in her forties with intricate sleeve tattoos that probably had stories behind them. Stories Jake would never know because he was here for one purpose only.
"What can I get you?" she asked, sliding a worn menu across the scarred wood surface.
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