Carol Ericson - Secret Agent Santa

“Yeah?” Her boots clicked as she walked toward him. “Everything looks okay in the front.”

“Did you have these scratches on your window like this before?”

She bent forward rubbing her fingers over the grooves in the glass. “No.”

“Feel the edge of the door here. Rough, isn’t it?”

Her eyebrows collided over her nose as she bent forward and traced a finger along the seam where the window met the door. “It does feel rough. How would that happen?”

His eyes met hers, wide in her pale face. “Someone was trying to use a slim jim to break into your car.”

She gasped and shot up to her full height. “Do you think the alarm scared them off? Who would do that in broad daylight on the street?”

“Someone who thought he could make it look like he was just opening the door with a key.” His lips formed a thin line and a muscle jumped in his jaw.

“You don’t think...?” She flung out one arm. “How would anyone even know we were here? I don’t have any business in Brooktown.”

He headed toward the trunk, crouched down and poked his head beneath the chassis of her car.

“Mike, what are you doing?”

A few minutes later, his fingers greasy from his exploration, he straightened up and stalked to the front of the car. He dropped to his knees and trailed his fingers along the inside of the wheel well. They tripped over a hard, square object.

“Bingo.”

“Bingo? Bingo what?” The slightly hysterical edge to Claire’s voice told him she knew what was coming.

He yanked the tracking device from her car and held it up. “Someone’s been following you.”

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