Serial Bride. Ann Voss Peterson
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The woman gave her a nod and retreated, closing the door behind her.
Sylvie glanced up at Bryce, eager to get his impression of what had happened.
He was looking past her, in the direction of the street.
She followed his line of sight. The one-way street was quiet. Except for an older man walking a dog and a blue service van pulling into a side street, it looked as though the entire neighborhood was spending Saturday night snuggled in their living rooms. “What do you see?”
Cupping her elbow, he steered her down the walk and driveway, toward his BMW. “I’ll tell you in the car.”
As he circled the car, she jumped into the passenger seat. She had just enough time to secure her seat belt before Bryce pulled away from the curb. “Okay, out with it. What’s going on?”
Eyes flitting to the rearview mirror, he slowly wound through the quiet neighborhood and headed west on University Avenue. “Did you notice the van?”
“The blue one?”
He nodded.
“Are you thinking it’s strange for a service van to be driving around on a Saturday night?”
“Yes, but that’s not all.”
“I hate playing guessing games. Will you just tell me?”
“It belongs to a food service. The type of business that provides produce, meat and canned goods to institutional settings like nursing homes.”
That was about as straightforward as another riddle. “Okay, I’ll bite. You’re wondering what it was doing in that neighborhood?”
He nodded. “On a Saturday night.”
Okay, so that did seem odd. But there could be a perfectly innocent explanation. “Maybe the owner of the company lives there. Or an executive.”
“Did you see the driver?”
“No.”
“Remember the redheaded guy who was listening in on our conversation in the hallway of your sister’s building? Diana’s neighbor?”
She hadn’t paid much attention to him, not enough to pick him out in a crowd. “He’s driving the van?”
“It’s dark, but yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s him.”
“Why would he be in this neighborhood?”
“The real question is, why is he following us? Look out the back window.”
Sylvie twisted sideways in her seat as if she was talking to Bryce. Covertly she glanced out the back window. Sure enough. Several car lengths back, she saw the hulking shape of a panel van. “You’re right. Why on earth would Diana’s neighbor be following us?”
Bryce veered right on an exit lane that crossed under the street. “I don’t know. But I aim to find out.”
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