I was dying to know who she was talking to. As she talked, she started pacing. Eventually she turned around and faced the building behind her.
Here goes nothing.I got up and ran across the street.
With her back to me, she didn’t notice at first. I made it almost all the way to her before she finally turned around—butnot before I heard her say, “I don’t know if Dr. Quinlan believed my story. I’m freaking out.”
She must have heard my footsteps; she whirled around, gasped, and dropped her phone on the pavement.
When I saw her face, I gasped too.
Her straight brown hair was tucked into the hood of her sweatshirt. Even with her sunglasses on, I recognized her.
My stalker was the receptionist from Dr. Quinlan’s office.
She froze, staring at me with wide, fearful eyes. She didn’t even make a move to pick up her phone.
“You work for Dr. Quinlan,” I accused.
“Wha—excuse me?”
“Why have you been following me?” I demanded.
Her mouth fell open, but no sound came out. In a split second, I sprang into action and picked up her phone off the ground. “Have you been taking photos of me? Sending me anonymous texts?” I swiped the screen, but her phone was locked.
The woman made a feeble attempt to snatch her phone back from me, but I held it up high over my head. “You’ll get this back when you start answering questions, lady. Start talking.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about! I’m just waiting for my ride. I don’t know you.”
“Yeah, right. You just followed me for six blocks, all the way from my office. And we both know this isn’t the first time. Why have you been following me? Did Madison put you up to this?”
As soon as her name escaped my lips, I saw the woman’s eyes widen further, in a look of pure panic.
“Please—give me back my phone. I’m just waiting for a ride. I have to go pick up my son.”
“Like I said—answer my questions, and you’ll get it back. Is Madison Clark behind this?”
She was breathing hard, clearly panicking, both hands clutching the back of her head. Then she blurted out, “Fine—keep it!” and bolted away, down the street.
I stared after her in shock. I hadn’t expected her to just run away, without her phone.
I looked at it in my hand, with its olive-green protective case, and a fresh crack slicing across the screen. The screensaver photo showed her smiling brightly and hugging a beaming little boy, maybe three or four years old.
For a moment I felt a little guilty, until it hit me:I have my spy’s phone.
If I could just find a way into the phone, I’d finally have my hands on what I suspected was a treasure trove of evidence hidden inside.
Ellie called that night as I was making myself a grilled cheese on the stovetop for dinner.
“Robert is driving down Saturday morning. My mom thought we could all go out to dinner that night, and you can join us, to give you and Robert a chance to talk.”
“That sounds perfect. Please thank your mom for me. I really appreciate this.”
“Also … I thought I should tell you … that lady from DCS called today, asking more questions about you.”
My stomach did a tiny flip. I hadn’t heard anything from Melanie Daniels or DCS in weeks.
“I went over all the same stuff about the bachelorette party I already said in my written statement.”
“Did she ask you anything new?”
