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Back A Penny for Your Thoughts Save as PDF
Chapters (62)
  1. Cover
  2. A PENNY
  3. Dedication
  4. Acknowledgments
  5. One
  6. Two
  7. Three
  8. Four
  9. Five
  10. Six
  11. Seven
  12. Eight
  13. Nine
  14. Ten
  15. Eleven
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Sixteen
  21. Seventeen
  22. Eighteen
  23. Nineteen
  24. Twenty
  25. Twenty-One
  26. Twenty-Two
  27. Twenty-Three
  28. Twenty-Four
  29. Twenty-Five
  30. Twenty-Six
  31. Twenty-Seven
  32. Twenty-Eight
  33. Twenty-Nine
  34. Thirty
  35. Thirty-One
  36. Thirty-Two
  37. Thirty-Three
  38. Thirty-Four
  39. Thirty-Five
  40. Thirty-Six
  41. Thirty-Seven
  42. Thirty-Eight
  43. Thirty-Nine
  44. Forty
  45. Forty-One
  46. Forty-Two
  47. Forty-Three
  48. Forty-Four
  49. Forty-Five
  50. Forty-Six
  51. Forty-Seven
  52. Forty-Eight
  53. Forty-Nine
  54. Fifty
  55. Fifty-One
  56. Fifty-Two
  57. Fifty-Three
  58. Fifty-Four
  59. A Sample Chapter of Don’t Take Any Wooden Nickels
  60. About the Author
  61. Other Books by Mindy Starns Clark
  62. About the Publisher

Sure enough, after a moment, my pursuer rounded the corner and then stopped. He was in his mid-20s with an angry face and short brown hair. He had a slight widow’s peak at the top of his forehead, and his inch-long bangs stuck straight up from there like a little flag. He was dressed in a gray sweatshirt and jeans, his physique showing the bulging arms and shoulders of a serious weight lifter. He certainly looked threatening. He stood there in front of the window for nearly a full minute, hands on his hips, scanning the street in front of him. When I saw that he was about to look inside the store, I crouched down beneath the glass case and counted to 20 before peeking to see that he was gone.

“May I help you?” I heard from the salesman behind me, and I jumped, startled at his close proximity.

“No, thank you,” I mumbled, and then I walked out of the door and trotted across the street to peek around the far corner.

There he was. I could see him standing a few yards away, talking into a cell phone. I couldn’t hear everything he said, but I did catch bits of “lost her” and “nothing I could do.” For a moment, I toyed with the idea of confronting him once he got off the phone. Surely, out in the open like this, he couldn’t harm me. In the end, however, I thought it might be wiser to turn the tables and follow him to see where he might go.

It didn’t take long to find out. His destination was the parking garage of the Smythe building. I watched from a safe distance as he took the stairs down to the first lower level. He headed straight for a red pickup truck, let himself in, and then just sat there.

He was waiting for me, I felt sure. My car was parked in view of his, across the row and down a ways. Though I had no intention of getting caught alone in here with him, I inched my way along the back wall toward his truck until I could just make out his license plate number. I memorized it, returning to the front of the parking garage.

I didn’t have time for this. There was still much to do today in a short amount of time. The last thing I needed was to try to wait this guy out. For all I knew, he was settled in for the night, complete with a Thermos full of coffee and Port-A-Potty jar.