I thought I heard Cal snicker behind me, but he had the good sense to put a poker face in place by the time I turned around.

Reluctantly, I led the gruesome twosome to the barbecue and ordered them both chicken on a stick and pineapple coolers. By the time they’d finished the last of their meals, the crowds were beginning to pick up—families in every shape and size wearing sneakers, cargo shorts, and pasty white legs that had yet to see the California sunshine walked past. Mixed in with packs of teenagers, honeymooning couples, and groups of overseas tourists that snapped photos of anything that stood still.

I didn’t like it.

The more people who jammed the walkways, the smaller my chances of spotting my stalker before he spotted me. The crowd made me feel antsy, exposed. And I was more anxious than ever to get this done and get out of here. Preferably back to somewhere Cal could carry his gun again.

I could tell Cal felt the same way. During the meal he barely spoke a word, his body rigid as if ready to jump at the slightest provocation, his eyes relentlessly scanning the crowd. Which should have made me feel better, but the tenser he got, the tenser I got. And the more I just wanted to get the hell out of there.

“There,” I said, pointing to a vendor’s booth, as the aunts wiped their fingers on a paper napkin. “Soda bottles. Let’s go.” I jumped in line and purchased a large, plastic souvenir Buzz Light-year soda bottle with a sparkly purple shoulder strap and handed it to Aunt Sue.

“Go put Mrs. C. in this,” I told her.

Aunt Sue gave the bottle a once over. “I’m not sure Hattie was a Toy Story fan.”

“Just do it!” I shouted, my nerves frazzled to their breaking point.

Luckily, Aunt Sue recognized a woman on the edge when she saw one and scuttled off to the ladies’ room to transfer our passenger. Ten minutes later she came out, the bottle slung over her shoulder and a grin of triumph on her face.

I glanced down at Buzz Lightyear. “She in there?”

Aunt Sue nodded and gave me a wink.

“Good. Let’s get this over with,” I said, leading the way toward the Small World castle.

“Oh, look!” Aunt Millie said as we exited Adventure Land, “The Enchanted Tiki Room. Can we—”

“Not on your life,” I yelled, cutting her off.

She snapped her mouth shut. “Killjoy.”