He stuffed his arms into his jacket and opened the door for her. The giggling teens had finished whatever it was they were doing, a homeless guy slouched in a chair in the corner and the stacks were empty.
Mike stepped outside behind Claire, and an insistent car alarm assaulted his ears, an unwelcome jolt after the peace and quiet of the library. He stuck his fingers in his ears. “That’s so annoying.”
“Mike.” Claire quickened her pace down the library steps, clamping her bag against her side.
“What? Is that your car?”
“I think it is.” She plunged her hand into her coat pocket and aimed the key fob in front of her, pointing it at her car at the curb.
The alarm went silent, but the alarm bells in his head replaced it. “That was your car.”
“I hope nobody bumped it. I haven’t even had it a year.”
While Claire inspected her front bumper, Mike trailed around the perimeter of the car. He ran his hand along the driver’s side door, skimming his fingers along the windows. “Claire?”
“Yeah?” Her boots clicked as she walked toward him. “Everything looks okay in the front.”
“Did you have these scratches on your window like this before?”
She bent forward rubbing her fingers over the grooves in the glass. “No.”
“Feel the edge of the door here. Rough, isn’t it?”
Her eyebrows collided over her nose as she bent forward and traced a finger along the seam where the window met the door. “It does feel rough. How would that happen?”
His eyes met hers, wide in her pale face. “Someone was trying to use a slim jim to break into your car.”
She gasped and shot up to her full height. “Do you think the alarm scared them off? Who would do that in broad daylight on the street?”
“Someone who thought he could make it look like he was just opening the door with a key.” His lips formed a thin line and a muscle jumped in his jaw.
“You don’t think...?” She flung out one arm. “How would anyone even know we were here? I don’t have any business in Brooktown.”
He headed toward the trunk, crouched down and poked his head beneath the chassis of her car.
“Mike, what are you doing?”
A few minutes later, his fingers greasy from his exploration, he straightened up and stalked to the front of the car. He dropped to his knees and trailed his fingers along the inside of the wheel well. They tripped over a hard, square object.
“Bingo.”
“Bingo? Bingo what?” The slightly hysterical edge to Claire’s voice told him she knew what was coming.
He yanked the tracking device from her car and held it up. “Someone’s been following you.”
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