Page 70 of Not the Bodyguard's Widow
Elle and Kimberly crossed to another vendor, and Alex walked down the aisle toward the men, who turned their backs to him. Amateurs. Alex entered the barn. Neither man followed him. Alex dialed his uncle only to get voicemail. He left a generic message, rounded the barn, and exited the other side.
Elle texted.Both still following. Looking for a restroom.
Alex found his way back to the furniture stall. The cradle was ready, and he couldn’t see either of the men. The furniture maker carried the frame to the truck so Alex didn’t have to make two trips. When it was loaded, he texted Elle.Cradle in Truck. Leave or stay?
—K wants to go home.
Come to truck. So much for a birthday dinner. Alex shifted to his backup plan. On the way home, they could stop at the Amish bakery and pick up Kimberly’s favorite peanut-butter cookies, and brownies for Elle.
—Stopped at fudge stall.
Alex laughed. Maybe the bakery was out. A king-sized quilt hanging in the stall nearest him caught his eye, and he went to look at it while he waited for the women. The traditional design was in bold blues and greens, like one of the quilts Kimberly had admired in another stall. Alex checked the price. If they were not fake married, he wouldn’t hesitate buying it as a birthday gift. But would she need a quilt that large? A small quilt folded on the corner of the table made of yellows and greens and edged with calico ducklings might be more appropriate, although it was more a gift for the baby. Alex rubbed the corner between his fingers. Soft, warm. Everything a baby could want, supposing he’d been right earlier. He handed the vendor some cash, and her daughter wrapped the quilt in brown paper.
—We are at the truck. Where are you?
Coming.Alex left the stall and jogged to the truck, passing the two men getting into a dark sedan.
As he approached his truck, he unlocked it with his key fob.
Elle climbed into the back seat next to the cradle. Alex handed her his package, then helped Kimberly up into the front seat.
“Why would the FBI be following me at a flea market?”
“I don’t know. They were not at the museum or post office.” Elle studied her phone.
“I tried to call Uncle Donovan, but he didn’t answer. I am surprised the FBI is following you at all now that they released your funds.” Alex turned onto the main road.
Elle leaned over the seat back. “They are so obvious. It’s as if they got their training by mail order. And they were late to the party. No one followed us on our drive up here.”
“We’d been in Shipshewana about two hours before they found us, right?” asked Alex.
“Closer to two and a half. They would have had time to drive from Chicago.”
“Elle, when we get back, I want you to sweep everything. I want to figure out how they knew where to look for us today. I’m sure they haven’t been watching the house.”
“This was our first outing since California. Could that have triggered them? First we get a delivery, then we leave, and it is my birthday.”
True, but that would mean they’d been watching and he hadn’t noticed. Alex used the car system to call Alan. “Hey, we picked up two agents today. I’m worried they may have been monitoring us for a while and I missed it. Can you run a scan?”
“Sure, but I haven’t seen anything irregular. Are they still following you?”
Alex checked his rearview mirror. “Like glue. I’d try to lose them, but they have to know we will end up back at Art House.”
“Not necessarily. You may have done something to trip an alarm. Someplace you went where they expected you to go.”
The mailbox. They wouldn’t be able to get at the contents without a warrant, but they could watch it through the post office’s security. “I think I know what tipped them off, which means they might not know about Art House.”
“Then don’t go there. Come back to the office, and we can play some parking-lot shell games.”
“Will do. See you in about three hours.”
Alex turned into the Walmart parking lot. “Let’s make it look like we intended to go here. Kimberly, get a set of clothes and whatever else you need for two days and dump them in Elle’s cart on the way to get some snacks. Elle—toothpaste, toothbrush, hairbrush for Kimberly. If these guys do what they did at the market, they won’t pay attention to what Elle is buying.”
“Walmart rarely carries maternity clothes. I don’t know if they will have something I can wear.”
“I’ll buy whatever version of a tourist T-shirt I can find in the men’s department. Considering the number of old shirts you’ve acquired from me, I should just loan you another one of mine.”
Kimberly smiled. “Do you have any left?”
