If nothing else, I could run across the grassy yard and the surrounding fields as far as I could. I waited for long, breathless seconds for the van to either pin me in the driveway or zoom past me down the road.
I had only one shot at this. Picking up my phone, I switched on the camera.
The van sped past me without slowing down. I snapped a quick picture of the rear of the van, but did not have time to look at the photo. In less than a minute, the van driver would arrive at the waterfront and figure out I was not there. I pulled out of the driveway and drove illegally across the grassy median. Back on Ocean Highway, I headed toward Bridgeford.
“Are you still with me?” I asked the sheriff, who had been on speakerphone.
There was no reply. At some point, I must have broken off the connection, maybe when I switched on the camera. I checked my recent calls and pressed her number.
Sheriff Tompkins said, “I was about to call you back. We got cut off.”
“I think I lost him, at least for now.”
“You need to get here to the station. I’ve sent a patrol car out there.”
“I’m heading back to Bridgeford now,” I said, trying to catch my breath. “I think I got a photograph of the license plate, but couldn’t recognize where it was from. Light blue with a red stripe at the top. I’ll text it to you.”
“Just a reminder, Mr. Seagraves, the use of a mobile device while driving is illegal.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said. “I’ll send the photo when I pull over, but I need to put some miles between me and that van.”
“Keep an eye out for our patrol car.”
“Got it, but there’s something I have to do first.”
Before the sheriff could reply, I broke off the connection and called Hailey at my office.
“Hey, Hailey, can you get Marisa Dupree on a conference call, right away?”
“Yeah, sure,” Hailey said. “You sound like you just ran a mile.”
“I’m fine. Just put me on hold and connect me with Marisa.”
“No prob,” she replied.
I checked my side mirrors and the rearview mirror, but the dark van was nowhere in sight. No police cruiser passed me in the other direction, so I continued on toward Bridgeford.
Hailey came back on the line. “Bryce, you there?”
“Yeah.”
“Ms. Dupree?” Hailey asked.
“I’m here,” she replied.
“Hey, Marisa,” I said. “Are you all right? I’m calling to check on you.”
“Well, I’m fine,” Marisa said. “What’s up?”
“I just left Benton Dynamics to meet with their trial attorneys regarding your case. Afterwards, a van followed me halfway around Chester County. Anything weird happen to you today?”
“No,” Marisa answered. “It’s been quiet. I took your advice and stayed in a hotel instead of my house. Who followed you?”
I said, “No idea, but I called the police. They’re on their way. Look, we need to meet right now. How about in a public place, like the town docks near Gertrude’s Crab House?”
“Okay, if you think that’s best. I can walk there in about ten or fifteen minutes.”
“Sounds like a plan. Stay on the main streets to the docks. No alleys or shortcuts. See you there.”
“All right, bye,” Marisa said as she dropped off the line with a click.
“You still there, Hailey?” I asked.
“Yeah, I had to stay on to connect the conference call. Bryce, what’s going on?”
“Not sure yet, but lock the doors to the law firm and don’t let anyone in you don’t recognize, okay?”
“Okay,” Hailey said in a worried tone. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“No idea, but I’ve got to see Marisa. She could be in trouble.”
“Call me back when you’re done, all right?”
“Will do,” I said. “But it might be a while. Bye for now.”
I arrived at the docks and parked my car in the public lot. Before exiting the car, I checked the photo of the dark van on my phone. The numbers and letters on the license plate were readable. The word “Diplomat” ran across the red stripe at the top. I texted the photograph of the back of the van to Sheriff Tompkins. She texted back that she got it, but nothing more.
Exits at both ends of the lot provided different ways of escape, if necessary. The lot was mostly empty. The dark van was nowhere to be seen. In a surreal moment, I stopped to feed the parking meter, although I doubted that I would need much time. Marisa had beaten me to our meeting and waited at the end of a weather-worn wooden dock. I waved her over, not wanting to be caught at the end of a long pier, where the only option to get away would be a marathon swim across the Chesapeake Bay.
She wore a business suit and coat, despite her recent unemployment. Waves splashed against the hulls of powerboats tied to the docks. The air smelled briny and stagnant in the eastward breeze.
“Well, what happened?” she asked.
“Um,” I replied. “This isn’t the best place to talk, but all I can tell you is that somebody followed me. I didn’t want to go to my office right away. They’ll probably look for me there.”
“Who?” Marisa asked.
“Not sure.”
“Does it have anything to do with me?”
I shrugged. I really could not say.
“It all happened right after my meeting with the lawyers. Where are you staying?” I asked.
“The Cormorant Hotel here in town.”
Marisa must not have
