9:12 a.m. I am set up along a dead end street in front of some rundown brick duplexes that were built back in the '50s. This is a 7 on the "scary neighborhood" scale. Along the opposite side of the street is a bike/running path. And beyond the path are a series of old buildings. They look like deserted warehouses.
When I arrive neither of the vehicles registered to my Subject are here. All of the shades are drawn on the house and there are no exterior lights on. This doesn't look so good. I run the license plates of all the cars parked in front of the residence. No luck.
I am about to grab the Gideons Bible that I stole from my last hotel stay and knock on the door under pretext that I'm a missionary. But I can't. The client in this case has make it clear that no physical or phone contact is permitted. I pout. My past two cases have been so BORING. I need a little excitement. I sigh. Well, I guess I can read Harry Potter or play with my online friends.
Maybe I'll go take a walk around the building and see what I can see. That's not physical contact, right?