CHAPTER 18
THE MAN’S FOOTSTEPS receded into the distance, and I resisted the urge to walk faster. Instead, I maintained the brisk-yet-casual pace expected of a woman out walking on her own at that late hour.
I must have been a couple of hundred yards down the road when a prickling of the hairs on the back of my neck told me something was wrong. The road curved to the right, and in the window of a clothes shop ahead of me, I saw the guy whose wallet I’d just liberated following me. Why had he turned around? He was close enough for me to see his eyes focused in my direction as his reflection floated eerily among the mannequins dressed up in evening wear.
My heart sped up as I considered my options.
Walking at my current pace, I could be mistaken for innocent. Maybe the guy changed direct
