“I can’t be sure, but I thought I saw movement in one of the cars on the road.”
“That could be anything. Young lovers. A dog. Someone getting ready to start their car or lock it.”
“All true. But usually by this hour, the area’s shut down for the night.”
“So what’s your game plan?”
“You stop, throw your arms around me, and kiss me, with you facing the ocean. That will give me a chance to scope out the street.”
“Is this some tricky maneuver to get your way with me?”
“I think you’ve seen most of my moves by now.”
“That’s what you always say and then you produce a new
one.”
“Kiss me, you gorgeous creature. Now, before I’m another minute older.”
Remi stopped, turned, and, stretching up on her tiptoes, she threw her arms around Sam’s neck.
Sam scanned the few cars parked along the sidewalk and spotted the sedan. Moonlight caught the camera lens, which glinted as it moved, confirming his suspicions.
Remi broke from her kiss when Sam squeezed her waist, and they began walking again, now a short way from their house.
“I saw something, possibly a lens, reflecting light, in one of the cars. The good news is that it isn’t fixed to a rifle.”
“How do you know?” Remi asked, suddenly serious.
“Because we’re both still alive. The not-so-good news is that someone’s definitely watching us.”
“That’s alarming. I wonder why? Could it be autograph hunters or something?”
“Very funny. Let’s get inside and check to make sure the security systems are on. Then I’ll go for a little walk and see if I can straighten out whoever it is.”
“Why don’t we just call the police?”
“And say what? That I saw something shiny in one of the cars? How seriously do you think that’ll be taken?”
“I guess you’ve got a point,” Remi conceded.
“Even a broken clock’s right twice a day.”
Selma had already retired when they entered the house, and after double-checking all the sensors and the alarm from the central control panel Sam deactivated the door on the side of the garage and slipped out into the night. The street was quiet, the only sound the crashing of waves on the rocks at the tip of Goldfish Point and the distant hum of traffic from Torrey Pines Road. Sam crept on rubber soles around the first parked vehicle and made his way to where the watcher was parked, keeping below the level of the windows just in case.
When he was almost to the sedan, his heart sank. There, in front of him, was an empty parking space, seven cigarette butts on the asphalt the only indication anyone had been waiting there.
Sam stood up straight, hands on his hips, and stared down the street.
The car was gone.
Tuesday morning arrived in the blink of an eye, and when Selma dropped Sam and Remi off at the airport for their trip to Baffin Island, they both embraced her for a long time, Zoltán by her side, standing attentively, flinching as jets took off overhead. Remi knelt and gave the German shepherd a kiss and scratched his chin.
“I hate to leave you alone again, big boy,” she crooned in his ear. A tail wag assured her that he understood, and when Remi stood, his gaze followed her with boundless affection.
“Let us know how the surgery turns out,” Sam asked Selma, who nodded in response, clearly embarrassed to be the center of attention.
“I’m just a little nervous, but the doctor said that they do dozens of this kind of procedure every day. It’s really nothing,” she assured them.