"You're certain?"
"My neighbor confirmed it.
A man with a clipboard asking questions about me specifically."
She wrote something else on her notepad, longer this time.
"That changes the picture somewhat," she said quietly.
"How?"
She looked up.
"It means he's been building a case.
Which means he expected resistance." She set her pen down.
"Mrs.
Calloway, I want you to go home, say nothing to your grandson, and call me if anyone contacts you directly.
Can you do that?"
"Yes."
"Good." She stood and extended her hand.
"Because I suspect Mr.
Welles is about to discover that your daughter was considerably more prepared than he realized."
I shook her hand.
Walking back to my car, I passed a man in a dark jacket leaning against the building across the street.
He was looking at his phone.
He didn't look up.
I kept walking.
But I noted the jacket color.
The height.
The shoes.
