The call suddenly ended.
I stood there holding the phone.
For the first time, I looked at the Mercedes differently.
The wealthy widow’s accusation suddenly seemed like a carefully planned test.
I grabbed the note
and walked toward the driver’s door.
Then I noticed something I hadn’t seen before.
There was a tiny red light blinking beneath the dashboard.
A tracking device.
Someone had been monitoring the car.
And whoever installed it had made one enormous mistake.
They had no idea I’d just found it.
I pulled it loose.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number appeared on the screen.
“Don’t go to Daniel’s address.”
A second message arrived immediately.
“They already know you’re going.”
I stared at the screen.
Then a third message appeared.
“If you want to know why Mrs. Whitmore chose you, look inside the trunk.”
My heart stopped.
