Page 93 of Tracking Safety

She knew that walk. She knew that ease.

Dale hadn’t come here today to win.

He’d come because he’d already won, and he’d wanted them to know it. He had a plan. He had money. He had people in his pockets.

He thought this was a slam dunk.

“Jenna,” Luke murmured.

She turned and realized she was gripping his sleeve. Quickly, she let go. “Sorry.”

He didn’t seem to hear her as he asked, “You okay?”

She wasn’t. But she nodded, because the alternative was falling apart in a courthouse hallway, and she’d promised herself a long time ago she’d never do that again.

But hearing her real name in Dale’s mouth made it real in a way the morning hadn’t.

Jenna and Luke left the courthouse the same way they’d come in—fast and close together, no lingering on the steps. The rest of the family was with them. They’d agreed to talk about things once they got back to the house.

Luke held the truck door for her, and Jenna climbed in and kept her eyes moving the way she always did now.

Old habits.

They’d kept her alive, and she didn’t know how to switch them off even when she wanted to.

Wes’s truck pulled out behind them as they left the square.

She was glad he was there. He knew how to watch a road, and after everything he’d traced this morning, she trusted him to catch the things she might miss.

Jenna sat in the passenger seat and tried to believe everything was okay.

Three blocks out, Luke’s phone buzzed in the console.

“It’s Wes.” He answered on the hands-free.

“Don’t speed up.” Wes’s voice came through flat and careful. “Don’t change anything. Just listen.”

Luke’s hands tightened on the wheel. Beside him, Jenna’s own instincts came online—every nerve going quiet and sharp at once.

“There’s a gray sedan two cars back,” Wes said. “Picked us up at the square. He’s matched every turn since.”

Jenna’s pulse climbed at the news. Someone was following them?

Had the Barones found her again? And, if so, just what were they planning?

Luke checked the mirror. The gray sedan was still there, two cars back, exactly where Wes had said it would be.

“Take the next right,” Wes said. “Onto Sycamore. It’s the wrong way home. If he follows, we’ll know.”

Luke signaled and turned.

The truck rolled down a quiet residential street.

For a moment Luke let himself believe Wes was being careful for nothing.

Then Jenna murmured, “He turned with us.”

Luke’s gaze went to the mirror. Sure enough, the gray sedan had made the turn behind them and had settled back into the same distance—close enough to keep them in sight, far enough to look like nothing.