WE FOLLOWED HER.
“Get back in,” I told Molly and closed the door before she could take the snowball out of her mouth to ask a question. I went around to the driver’s side and climbed into the cab. Without thinking. Without quite knowing why.
“Why aren’t we getting out?” Molly asked. The snowball was melting, dripping in her hands.
“Here, open the window. Throw that out. It stopped bleeding, I think.” I started the engine.
“Where are we going?”
“I’m not sure—I want to see where that lady’s going.”
She cranked down her window and threw out the mushy snow. “Why? Who is she?”
“Someone from work. I want to know what she was doing at Mr. Woods’s house.”
“But I want to go home—”
“We will. Soon.”
That seemed to satisfy her.
“And can we make pancakes?”
“We’ll see.” When Beverly was a few houses up the block, certain that she hadn’t seen me, I started driving, staying half a block behind.
What would I do if she saw us? Confront her? Demand to know the truth about her relationship with Woods? With Nick? If she didn’t see us, how long would I follow her? Would I lurk with Molly indefinitely outside her condo? Or in front of a store if she went shopping? And what if she was meeting Nick?
I didn’t know. I didn’t care. I was ready to take both Nick and Beverly on and make a fool of myself, even in front of Molly. I kept going. At Sixth Street, she walked north. Damn. Sixth was one-way south. I couldn’t follow. I pulled over and watched her. And saw her get into the driver’s seat of Nick’s old Volvo, parked halfway up the block.