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ALRIGHT, SO MAYBEFINDING Spider-Man was a lot harder than she'd given it credit for. Sloane assumed that after the hours of research she did on him, finding his hiding spots would be a piece of cake, but she quickly learned that to be false. He'd gotten crafty over time, and again, he hadn't been seen out publicly for two years. He may as well have been an elderly man in a retirement home, but that seemed too easy. The guy had been swinging around New York City for years, since she was a teenager. There was no way he still didn't put his skills to good use, even if he wasn't saving anyone.
Sloane made an effort to ask the locals where they thought she could find him. She asked business owners, random people walking the street, even the homeless. They either pretended they didn't hear her – typical New Yorkers – or gave her a wild story about where they'd last spotted him, which was obviously a lie. Sloane was good at reading people. She could spot a lie from a mile away. The way these strangers would look at anything but her, the mockery in their tone ... she was getting tired of it all. Her search had gone like this for a few days and she was willing to give up.
However, she managed to finally get a good, trustworthy lead from, out of all people, the hot dog guy in front of the Sculpture Center. He parked his cart there every morning, from nine AM to eight PM, and he needed to cross the street from Black Star Bakery in order to get there. He swore he'd seen this so-called Spider-Man lounging on the roof of the building, out of direct eye view, and eating a donut. It had happened a few times, but Hot Dog Man hadn't said a word to anyone, besides his wife.
"I can't blame the guy for hanging out there," he said in his thick New York accent, placing a grilled dog in a bun for Sloane. "Black Star's got the best donuts around."
Sloane couldn't help but notice that the man's stand had been vandalized too. BEWARE THE JAWBREAKER was spray-painted on the side of the metal cart, so bright for all to see. He had noticed her staring at it and said, "Tried to get it off for days. Stupid punks." She'd laughed, but her insides still felt queasy. She couldn't stop thinking about Everett's glare when they had watched the news report on the vandalism. He almost looked ... guilty, and his track record of sneaking out late didn't help his case. She didn't want to think her new step-brother was capable of it, but she had her suspicions.
