“He who waits.” Lucy chats away in slangy clichés, and it’s obvious she’s doing it for the benefit of whoever she thinks is watching us.

Lately it seems all I hear about is spying, tailing, peeping, trolling, spoofing, stalking, hacking, sniping, snooping. And maybe Carrie really is out here in the dark somewhere having a grand time monitoring our every word, our every move.

The more I think about her, the more I seethe, and I say nothing else to Lucy. I’m silent as I enter my personal access code in the digital keypad on the trailer’s side door.

“BE CAREFUL.” MY NIECE’S cinnamon breath is in my ear, and I’m aware there are telescopic lenses that could capture the numbers and symbols I entered.

I know there are all kinds of skimmers that can grab data from a considerable distance. I couldn’t be more mindful that Carrie is adept in such things and so much more, and I’m worn out from the warnings. In addition to Lucy’s deadly projections I have to contend with Marino’s endless fear-biting hypotheticals about all the different ways I might be followed or stalked and for all sorts of far-flung reasons.

“I’m always careful.” I open the aluminum door. “Not infallible but certainly not cavalier,” I add as I step inside, and the cold air is biting.

Lucy follows me in, shutting the door after her. “I still think we should switch our vehicles to fingerprint locks.”

“I know you do, and maybe someday it won’t be so impractical.” The air-conditioning is a relief but I’m going to freeze.

“I just wish these suckers were armored. They should be.”

“That would be even more impractical. Are Janet and Desi okay?” I bring them up now that we’re inside the trailer’s metal stairwell, which isn’t bulletproof but at least no one can overhear our conversation.

“They’re at Logan driving around in circles because there’s no place to wait longer than a nanosecond.” She tugs on the door handle again, double-checking that it’s secure. “I told Janet not to head out so early but she did anyway, don’t ask me why. Mom isn’t close to landing yet.”

“Do we have an idea why?” I start climbing the steps.

Lucy is right behind me. “First there was a delay in Fort Lauderdale because of an unattended bag at the same gate Mom was using. So her flight took off more than an hour late because of that, and then she was sitting on the tarmac for a while.”

“And you know this how? I wouldn’t think a left bag at my sister’s gate would be trending on the Internet.”

“Mom’s been e-mailing updates to Janet,” Lucy says, reminding me that my sister can’t extend the same courtesy to me.