was banned from using her anonymous phone number for sending digital content of any kind, so the camera was a necessity. Until life returned to normal, her digital life was stored on a bunch of SD cards and flash drives.
Aiming the camera at Ari, she snapped a couple of cute photos. If any of the shots were good, she’d have them printed at Walgreen’s. Her baby’s first picture album was filling up fast. At this rate, it might be smart to reserve a bookcase shelf just for Ari’s scrapbooks.
“Toot toot. Our ride will be pulling up soon,” Lynda announced.
Her landlady and friend monitored their Uber status from the doorway to Summer’s apartment. Though the walker and cast from Lynda’s injury were gone, she was still receiving physical therapy and preferred not to drive.
“Walt is going to go crazy for Ari’s outfit. He’s got a thing for costumes,” Lynda exclaimed. “Did I tell you he did still photography for the latest Impossible Mission film?”
Summer gave a half-smile. Part of Lynda’s charm came from her lack of pop culture awareness. Tom Cruise, Tom Sawyer, Tom Hanks, Tom and Jerry—all the same to her.
“All the ladies at the clinic loved her outfit when we went for her three-week checkup. She looked so sweet with the pink bow headband.”
Lynda released a soft chuckle. “I wish there’d been easy internet ordering when Brigit was a wee one.”
“You should get in on the game,” she said while hauling the baby carrier and a big diaper bag to the door. “After checking out Etsy, I think you could open a shop and sell the knitted baby caps.”
“Oh, pfft,” Lynda groused. She took control of the diaper bag and pulled the apartment door shut after Summer passed. “I get off on the personal aspect. Knowing the recipient makes the task joyful. Don’t you think filling orders would get stressful? I do,” she self-answered with a shrug.
They pushed through the gate and took their time making it to the sidewalk at the end of the long driveway.
“The pumpkins look nice.”
Lynda chortled. “They’re fake; can you believe it? Bud said he’d kill me if I used real ones this year. We just never know anymore with the weather, and if it gets hot, they break down and decompose really fast, so when I saw these at the craft store, how could I say no?”
Summer saw her logic and agreed with a nod. “Tony and Roy’s haunted Halloween display is a bit much, right?”
They stopped walking to gaze across the street, where a homemade interpretation of imagery from Beetlejuice transformed their yard into a showstopper.
“They’re such grandstanders. People drive by at night—after it’s lit—and take pictures,” her annoyed landlady grumbled.
“I can’t wait to see what they do for Thanksgiving.”
“Oh, crap,” Lynda muttered. Her tone was harsh and unfriendly, to say the least. “Here come the neighbors. Ugh.”
Summer noted their approach and stiffened.
Todd Dinkins and his mother occupied the house to the left of Lynda’s. Though the Gerry’s driveway mirrored the driveway of their neighbors to the right, when it came to the Dinkins’ home, their front and side yards touched Lynda’s, and based on her attitude, she wasn’t happy about it.
“Hola, neighbors,” Mrs. Dinkins called out in a too-contrived-to-be-believed manner. “Out for a walk?”
“Yeah, right,” Summer muttered. “I drag a baby carrier around by the handle. Either she’s stupid or … I don’t know what.”
Lynda smirked. In a whisper, she said, “Hola? Really? Jesus.”
What did she know about these people? Not a lot.
Mrs. Dinkins dressed in nurse’s scrubs and went to work every day while Todd “worked from home,” a euphemism she assumed meant he rode the couch with a computer nearby or a game controller in his hands. The thirty-something guy gave off unsettling signals. He was friendly but maybe too friendly. There was also an air of something not quite right.
Frankly? Todd’s entire demeanor and the way he looked at her felt freaky.
Her inner voice urged caution. She shifted the baby carrier to her other hand and used her body to shield Ari.
“Hello, Gloria,” Lynda offered in a minimally polite greeting. “Todd.”
Something told Summer to stay in the background and remain quiet. She held her breath and tried to wish the Uber to hurry up.
Don’t look, don’t look. Turning her head in the opposite direction, she feigned unawareness of Todd’s interest. His perusal was uncomfortable, and she wasn’t imagining the slight aroma of eau de menace wafting from his direction.
Lynda responded to Mrs. Dinkins in a flat, somewhat chilly