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There were no meters.
“Emma?” Ted asked again, gently. “What’s going on?”
“There are no meters here,” she said, looking wildly from him to the smooth siding on the house.
“No,” he said slowly. “There aren’t.”
“There was a guy here,” she said. “He had a clipboard and a meter thingy, and he was driving a blue truck with a grasshopper on the side.” She couldn’t get the words out fast enough. “He rang the doorbell and then disappeared.”
What had he been doing? Had he taken pictures of her? Did he know about Missy?
She needed to call Fran right now. She flung down the receipt and yanked her phone out of her pocket.
Then she had to face reality—her phone was shattered.
A sob started in her stomach and wrenched its way up, catching in her throat for only a moment before it came soaring out of her mouth.
