She sighed heavily and slicked her hands down her face. It was almost eighty degrees outside, but a hot bath with some essential oils was just what she needed. Her muscles were tense; clearly, she was on edge. She pulled out of the parking space and turned back toward East Palm. The house was ten minutes away, on the western edge of Homestead. The first thing she would do is get the hot water running in the bathtub and pour herself a glass of sweet tea.
Returning to US-1, she passed J.D. Redd Park and the Homestead library before finding the Mustang in her mirror again. A lump formed in her throat. It was trailing back a fair distance but maintaining equal speed.
Zoe reached for her phone, pulled her list of contacts, and tapped a number. No answer. She tried the number again. After it rang another six times, she had half a mind to just turn around and go back to The Reef. She felt a wave of relief when she heard a deep, familiar voice answer.
“Zoe! How are you holding up?”
“Brad, are you busy right now?”
“Nothing I can’t put to the side. Why? What’s up?”
“I know this is going to sound paranoid, but I think someone is following me.”
“Following you?”
“I don’t feel safe.”
Several weeks ago, Ryan had begun to teach Zoe basic self defense moves. He came over to Kathleen’s on Saturday mornings and worked with her for over an hour, insisting that a young lady should know how to defend herself confidently. A mini canister of pepper spray on a keychain, while helpful, didn’t count. He wanted her to know how to break free from someone’s grasp, how to defensively attack the soft and vulnerable parts of someone’s body, and even how to still think and function through the sudden shock of being hit in the face or struck on the head.
He had also taught her what to do when she felt unsafe. The best thing, he said, was to call someone or approach a law enforcement officer and to be as direct as possible. Being vague often led to more questions, wasting precious time until the individual had enough information to understand that you might be in legitimate danger.
“Where are you?” Brad said.
“A couple of miles from the house.”
“Don’t go home. Why don’t you feel safe?”
“Some guy has been following me since I was at The Reef. He was eating there the same time I was. He left right after me.” She went on to tell him about stopping at the Shell station, the man appearing to watch her from a distance, and then following her back out of the outlet mall. “There’s another car between us right now, but he’s still there.”
“I want you to stay on the road. Double back if you have to, but don’t end up where the traffic or the population thins out.”
“Okay. Should I try to get to a police station?”
“No. I don’t want him to scare off. I want to know who this guy is. You should be fine as long as you stay in a busy area. Just don’t stop, and don’t get out of the car for any reason. Try not to let him know you’re on to him.”
“Okay.”
“I’m at the field office in Miami today,” Brad said. Zoe heard a vehicle door slam shut on Brad’s end of the line. “I can be out your way in fifteen minutes. Where is Charlotte?”
Charlotte, Ryan’s girlfriend, lived in Miami but had been staying with Zoe while Kathleen was on vacation. “She’s had meetings at MacDill all day. She won’t be home until tonight.”
“Okay.” Zoe heard Brad’s Jeep Gladiator growl to life. “Don’t call her,” he said. “I don’t want her getting worried. Hang tight, and I’ll call you when I get closer. Call me back if anything changes. Anything at all.”
She nodded to herself. “I will.”
Chapter Thirteen
Zoe continued on US-1, pushing up through Homestead and into Redland before casually hooking a U-turn and pulling into a Wendy’s drive-thru. She ordered a small order of French fries and pulled forward. Brad had said that he didn’t want the guy to spook off, so she decided to play it cool, even though she felt anything but.
The man hung back in an adjoining Cracker Barrel parking lot, pulling around the restaurant and out of sight. He was clearly trying to stay unnoticed. And he might have too, had he not showed himself so obviously when leaving The Reef and sitting idle at the Shell station.
Zoe knew a fair number of the locals in Key Largo. At least those who frequented The Reef and the two most popular marinas. But this guy certainly wasn’t one of them. She figured it was possible he was a pervert recently out of prison or was actively looking to find his way into one. Either way, it gave her the creeps.
She received her fries from the associate and glanced at the time, pulling away from the building and tossing the bag of unwanted fries on the passenger seat. She pulled back onto the road and drove more slowly as she headed south again. The Mustang finally reappeared, several cars back and one lane over. Zoe’s fingers started picking anxiously at her thumbs.
Come on, Brad.
As if on cue, her phone rang. “Hey,” Brad said, “I’m just entering Homestead. Where are you?” She relayed the name of the nearest cross
