“You must be a good person,” I suggested, gazing at her. Her dark eyes filled me with the same disquiet I’d felt when I first met her at the pub. What was it about her that unsettled me?
A shadow crossed her face. “I used to be different.” She glanced over her shoulder, her features pinched. “Remember yesterday when I said I felt like I was being watched? I still feel like that. Did you see anybody on your way here? Other than that group of moms waiting for the school bus?”
I scanned the street, paying particular attention to the clusters of trees and shady bushes. At the corner three women stood chatting. A black cat walked up the brick driveway across the street. “No.”
“I don’t know if I’m becoming paranoid or if my suspicions are rational. Either way, I can’t shake this creepy feeling.”
I was uncertain how to respond. I didn’t know her well enough to determine if her paranoia was unfounded. Instead of speaking, I took a bite of my cookie.
Tilly put her mug down and continued. “I keep seeing the same man wherever I go. I don’t know who he is, but I saw him at the book festival, too. He looks nice enough, I guess. He has short hair, glasses, and dresses neatly.” She shrugged. “It’s probably a coincidence. I see lots of the same people around here. Dunston isn’t that big.”
At that moment, a yellow school bus pulled up at the corner, and a group of children poured down the steps, dispersing with their mothers. A boy and a girl, both wearing backpacks, ran toward us. The boy was waving a sheet of paper as he bounded up the steps.
“Mom, look at my math test!” He handed her the page on which a big, red “100%” had been written. He bounced from one foot to the other.
“Wow, Peter, that’s awesome!” She gave it back to him. “Want to put it on the fridge?”
He nodded vigorously and ran inside, slamming the door behind him. The girl stepped close to her mother’s chair.
“Who’s this lady, Mom?” she asked. Wearing embroidered jeans and a pink flowered T-shirt, the girl’s brown chin-length hair was pulled away from her face with a pink barrette. The resemblance to her mother was uncanny. She had the same dark eyes that seemed inexplicably familiar to me.
“This is Miss Lila, Emma. She’s a friend of Miss Flora. You remember Miss Flora? She helps sell my books.”
Emma nodded and extended her arm toward me. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Lila.”
“And I’m happy to meet you, too,” I said, shaking her warm little hand.
She shrugged off her backpack, dropping it to the floor, and reached for a cookie. “Can I?” she asked, directing her gaze to her mother.
“Of course.” Tilly put her arm around Emma’s shoulders and hugged her.
I stood. “I should go. I know what after-school time is like. Thanks for the hot chocolate and cookies. They were delicious.”
“It was my pleasure.” Tilly walked me down the steps to the truck with Emma trailing behind her. “Thanks for bringing my notebook to me.”
The driver’s door creaked as I opened it. “This is my mother’s truck,” I said, feeling the need to explain why I was driving a bright turquoise vehicle bearing magnetic signs proclaiming the Amazing Althea. I climbed in, and Tilly and Emma headed back to the house.
Pulling the seat belt across my chest, I waved at them as they went inside. Tilly had an idyllic life. Not only were her books taking off, but she had a beautiful home, a successful marriage, and adorable children. Why was her contentment being marred by a sudden case of paranoia? Was someone watching her? Or did she have deeper psychological issues?
Unable to answer these questions, I backed the truck out of the driveway. Pushing the gear stick to drive, my peripheral vision caught a flash of black from behind a thick oak tree near where the school bus had stopped. I glanced over, but saw nothing. Slowly, I drove in the direction of the tree, keeping a sharp eye out for any sign of movement.
I pulled up at the curb in the spot where the school bus had dropped off the children and opened the driver’s door. “Who’s there?” I called. No one answered. I jumped out of the truck and approached the tree. The sky darkened as a cloud drifted over the sun, and the large oak loomed ominously overhead. I scrutinized the tall laurel hedge beside it.
A door slammed, making me jump, and I quickly turned in the direction of the sound. Two boys walked out of a nearby house carrying skateboards. A rustling in the shrubbery behind me caught my attention, and I whipped back around in time to catch a glimpse of a shadow disappearing around the corner of the street. My heart pumping wildly, I ran to the intersection.
Scanning the sidewalks, I saw only children playing, a woman walking a poodle, and a large tabby cat sauntering on the curb, its tail twitching. There was no sinister presence. Yet someone had been hiding in the bushes. I felt it in my bones. Tilly wasn’t just being paranoid. She was being watched.
Chapter 11