“What house? Which street? When?” She shut the trunk. This quick stop for a milkshake to reward Jeremy for sitting in the car half of Sunday afternoon while she delivered Tupperware was taking too long. They had to get rolling.

“You know. That day you picked me up from school at lunchtime and you stopped to deliver an order. ’Member?”

“Yes.” That had been two weeks ago Friday. The first week of school, when dismissal had been at noon. Hard to forget that day, since the neighborhood where she’d made the delivery had been on the news that evening, thanks to a fake bomb someone had planted on the doorstep of a radio celebrity.

A fake bomb that had been inside a FedEx package.

Sara froze.

Was it possible . . . could her son have seen the guy who’d left it? Last she’d heard, the police didn’t have any suspects.

She squinted after the man, who was approaching a Grand Cherokee. He appeared to be a normal guy. Nothing about him sent up any red flags.

“Mom.” Jeremy tugged on her arm. “Don’t all those guys drive a truck with FedEx on the side? And aren’t they ’sposed to wear a uniform?”

“Uh . . . yeah. I think so.” She peered at the license plate. Fumbled for a pen and scrap of paper in her purse. Jotted down the numbers and letters while the guy backed out.

As he drove past, he gave them a quick glance.

She bent her head and pretended to search her purse for her keys.

Jeremy slurped up his shake through the straw, gawking at the car.

“Jeremy—don’t watch him.”

“Why not?”

“Just don’t, okay? Get in the car.”

For once he complied without further questions or argument.

She slid behind the wheel, locked the doors, and slipped on her sunglasses, following the progress of the guy in the SUV as he swung onto the main drag with a screech of tires and a heavy foot on the gas.

Now what?

She stuck the key into the ignition, watching until the Cherokee disappeared into the traffic.

“How come we’re not moving?” Jeremy continued to suck on his drink.

“Honey . . .” She angled toward him and looked over her shoulder. “Are you sure that’s the same man you saw the day I was delivering Tupperware?”

“Uh-huh.”

“How do you know? Did you see his face?”

“Uh-huh. He was wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses, but I think a bee was buzzing around him, ’cause he took them off for a minute and swatted the cap through the air. I saw him when he turned toward me. What I noticed most though was how he walked.”

“What do you mean?”

“He kind of steps lighter on one foot. Like Dad did last year after he broke his toe. Didn’t you notice that?”

“No.” She’d hardly noticed her husband’s limp, let alone a stranger’s.