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Then she felt it. There, under the 7 on her keypad, the smallest of bumps. She could barely feel it, would never have paid any attention if she hadn’t been looking for something, anything, out of the ordinary.
“You asshole,” she said beneath her breath as she walked into the Walmart. An employee standing by the shopping carts looked up sharply, and Lizzy smiled at him. “Not you.”
The man acknowledged her with a nod, but he remained wary. Good. He’d remember her. When X showed up maybe he’d waste some time searching the aisles for her, because he’d be so sure she was here. He’d be wrong.
But when the hell had he gotten his hands on the phone? The only possible answer was that he, or someone else, had broken into her house while she was asleep and planted the tracker. God, that was a creepy thought, but what else could it be?
That also brought up another question: if someone had been in her house, and this someone wanted her dead, why hadn’t she been killed in her sleep?
Because something had changed—and the only thing she knew of that had changed was herself. By taking the small steps she’d taken, she’d set off a situational alarm. The thought had occurred to her before, but the tracker on the cell phone was proof positive.
Finding the tracker was a relief. Now she knew how he’d been doing it, and she knew for certain what to do. She placed the purse in the cart seat and wheeled toward the grocery section, trying to move fast without looking as if she were in too much of a hurry. She grabbed a bag of orange-slice candy from an end of the aisle display and tossed it into the cart, just to make it look as if she were actually shopping. Paper plates went on top of the candy.
People who shopped at this hour of the morning apparently weren’t in a hurry. Why would they be here at this hour? They worked weird shifts, or wanted to avoid the crowds, or maybe they were just night owls. They meandered down the aisles, stopping with their carts turned to the side, blocking anyone else who wanted to go down the same aisle. And man, what a motley crew they were: druggies, men on their way home from a bar, people who looked as if they never left their houses at all by the light of day. That one looked as if he might live in his car. She shouldn’t judge; she might be next. But, damn—over there was a woman wearing pink camouflage tights two or three sizes too small, teamed with a lime-green tank top and no bra. Lizzy blinked and hurried past, lest she be blinded.
She passed a man with a black eye, a limp, and a cart filled with beef jerky and beer. Dang. With her hat and sunglasses, and her too-big drugstore tee shirt, Lizzy fit right in. She even qualified as one of the better-dressed shoppers.
Come to think of it, she’d love some beef jerky of her own, just to have something to eat that didn’t come out of a vending machine, but she couldn’t take the time to actually go through a checkout line. X would be behind her, and she didn’t know how close he was. He might not be the only one, this time.
Her heart jumped at the idea. Fear could stop her in her tracks if she allowed it, so she shook off the feeling of panic. She had to push forward, one step at a time.
There were a few people in the grocery section of the huge store, but she found an aisle that was momentarily deserted. She popped the battery into her cell phone and switched it on, then swiftly pushed her cart to the next aisle, where a short, plump Hispanic woman intentl
y studied the labels on two different cans of soup. Like Lizzy, the woman had placed her purse, a huge red tote-bag kind of thing, in the cart’s seat that was intended for a toddler’s butt or a loaf of bread—or an unguarded purse. And, hallelujah, that purse was wide open at the top. Lizzy didn’t even slow down as she walked by and dropped the phone into the bowels of the big red bag. Considering the depth and girth of that purse, it might be weeks before the phone was discovered—if it didn’t ring.
She moved on to the frozen foods, plucked Sean’s wallet from her purse, and reached into the cold case for a pizza, leaving the wallet behind as she removed a large pepperoni and tossed it into her cart. Another crumb. Figure that one out, Mister X.
On the next aisle over she parked her shopping cart, with the empty purse, candy and all still in it, and made a beeline toward the exit. As she went past the checkout lanes she whipped off her hat and her glasses, fluffed her hair, and hoped that the employee who’d noticed her walking in wouldn’t notice her walking out, in case X arrived while the woman who now had Lizzy’s purse was still shopping.
She thought of all the things she’d like to buy here: boots, a different hat, protein bars, water, a knife or two or three. But not here, and definitely not now. There would be another Walmart, farther down the road. Or better yet, a string of smaller stores that were less likely to have working security cameras. Maybe she could find a flea market, though for that she might have to wait for the weekend. She’d definitely need a new car before then. Hell, she’d need to dump Sean’s car by morning, because as soon as he woke up and could get to a phone the theft of his sister’s car would be reported.
As soon as she dumped that car, she was going to turn south. Every clue would lead west, and she’d be going toward Florida instead. Would that work? Was it enough of a head-fake to spring her free?
There were still plans to make, decisions that had to be made, but for the first time on this long day Lizzy could truly imagine herself making it down the road.
One step at a time.
While his guy grumbled about being called out in the middle of the night for transport and repair, Xavier leaned against the wall of the windowless garage and once again studied the map on his cell. The mechanic—Rick—was one of his people, a whiz with engines of all kinds as well as a more-than-decent sniper.
Changing spark plug wires wasn’t a difficult or time-consuming job. He could have done it himself if he’d had the parts, but it was a plus to have someone on his payroll who had a quiet place to do the work as well as the spare parts and the expertise.
Xavier had checked Lizzy’s progress often since calling Rick. He’d followed her progress away from the hotel, then west on I-66. Two blinking dots, representing her cell phone and her wallet, had stayed together—until now.
For the first time since he’d planted them, the two dots separated. Xavier pushed away from the wall, frowning as he watched and considered the possibilities. He ran his thumb over the screen and zoomed in for detail. Walmart. The cell was still in the store, but the wallet was walking out.
Quickly he ran through the options. Had she planted the wallet on someone leaving the store while she stayed to shop, or had she planted the cell on someone still in the store and then made her escape? His money was on the wallet being with her. That tracker would be more difficult to locate, and a cell phone, small as it was, would be easier to drop in a pocket or purse while passing by.
Though all she’d have to do was set the wallet on a shelf and walk away, and someone would pick it up.
Worst case, she’d found both trackers, or else was simply getting rid of everything she’d had on her when she’d run and was starting fresh. If she did that, then he’d lost her. Violently he rejected that thought. No matter what, he’d find her. He had a starting point, that Walmart in Leesburg. She’d be picked up on the parking lot cameras, and he’d find a way to get access to the recording. He’d at least have an idea of what she was driving.
All he could do was watch the trackers. If one—or both—moved to a site nearby and stayed there, it was most likely not in Lizzy’s possession. If one object stopped at a house or apartment nearby while the other kept going, he’d have her.
“How long?” he asked sharply.
“Almost there,” Rick growled. He was still grumpy about his interrupted sleep.
Xavier dialed, put the phone to his ear. “Anything?” he said when Maggie answered.
