she was being ridiculous, right? No need to be rude, as well.
She passed another man who didn’t have a basket or a cart and because he was dressed in business attire, she didn’t question his motives for being in the store.
Isabel grabbed the seafood bundle from the counter in the fish department, tossed it into her basket and went to a register. She loaded her stuff on the conveyor belt, itching to get out of the store. As she bent over to place the empty basket on the floor, she stilled.
At the bottom of the basket was a playing card. She picked it up and turned it over.
Queen of spades.
But it hadn’t been in there earlier when she’d first taken a basket. She was certain.
She dropped the card in the basket and shoved it under the conveyor belt.
Isabel paid, opting for paper bags, and hurried to her car. Hitting the new key fob, the lights flashed on her Maserati, and the doors unlocked. She opened the trunk and set her bags inside. Before closing it, she unzipped her purse and grasped the handle of her fully charged Pacifier.
Better safe than sorry.
Trying to slow her breaths that started coming too quickly, she scanned her surroundings.
No sign of the man.
She slipped inside her car, locked the doors and started the engine. Putting on her seat belt, she noticed something on her windshield, trapped under her wipers.
The queen of spades.
Her whole body went cold, but every nerve pulsed with energy. Isabel looked around outside, twisting in her seat. There was no one near her car, but was anyone watching her? Waiting for a reaction to seeing the card? How did the same queen of spades get on her windshield without her noticing anyone?
She flipped on the wipers. The wind snatched the card, carrying it on a breeze across the parking lot.
A shadow moved up alongside her window. She almost jumped out of her skin, her heart throbbing in her throat.
An older woman got inside a sedan parked beside hers and pulled off.
Isabel took a deep breath, calming herself down. She threw her car in gear and drove to the doggie day care center, going well over the speed limit, not running red lights, but gunning it when any turned yellow.
Once McQueen was in the car she felt better, knowing she had immediate backup in case she needed it. He wouldn’t let anyone get near her if he sensed danger. Too bad she couldn’t take him with her everywhere.
On the way home, she checked her mirrors constantly, making sure she wasn’t being followed. Not that she had any training in picking up a tail, but she’d notice if the same car stayed glued behind her.
Nothing unusual stuck out and by the time she pulled into her garage, her nerves had settled somewhat.
Entering her building, she waved hello to the concierge, who worked from eight to six at the front desk. “Good evening, Bill,” she said with a shopping bag in either hand.
“Evening, Isabel. You got a package. I ran it upstairs for you, put it in front of your door.”
“You’re a saint,” she said, wondering what it could be since she hadn’t ordered anything. “Thank you.”
“Need help with those groceries?”
“No, I’ve got it.” She hit the button for the elevator. Normally she took the stairs, but tonight, she wanted to get inside her condo as soon as possible.
The chime dinged and the doors opened. She got in the lift with McQueen. The ride up was quick.
At her front door, McQueen ran up to the package and sniffed it. She put her key in the door and unlocked it. Inside, she shut off her alarm and set her groceries down, relieved to be home.
She put everything away, took out her phone and called Dutch. “Hi.”
“Hey, beautiful.” His deep, smoky voice brought another layer of comfort.
“Brenda is closing up tonight,” she said, retrieving the package, with the phone sandwiched between her ear and shoulder. “I already swung by the grocery, where something weird happened.”
“Weird how?”
She shrugged to herself. “I’m not really sure, but I’ll tell you about it later.” She locked the door and put the box on the counter. “I’ve had the busiest day, running around like crazy because my uncle wants me to organize an art auction for him down in San Diego.”
“Really? When’s the auction?”
“Sunday. Fifty guests. I can’t believe it’s such short notice. Talk about pressure.” She sighed, hoping to pull everything together, not wanting to disappoint her uncle. “I’m set to