Page 131 of Double Trouble for the Mafia Prince
Once he's gone, I finish getting the girls ready and take them in my car.
The girls are in the back, arguing gently about who forgot the library book.
I smile when appropriate, but it does not reach my heart.
Halfway through the route, I notice a car.
Black.
Modest.
The kind that blends in until it is seen too many times.
It follows us for four turns.
Drops back.
Picks up again.
I glance once at the mirror, but choose not to alarm the girls or change the route.
I keep my voice calm when I tell them to double-check their bags and kiss the top of each head.
I smile when Arietta asks if she can buy chocolate milk with her lunch.
And I let them go.
Because fear is already eating too much of me, and I will not let it take them, too.
I want them to know what normal feels like. I want them to believe they belong in a world that does not move with shadows at their heels.
I wait outside until the school doors close behind them.
Only then do I exhale, the way one might after leaving a room filled with smoke.
The black car does not pull away.
It remains parked across the street, engine running, windows dark.
The driver inside does not move.
Neither do I.
I do not go home after I drop the girls off.
The black car stays parked across the street for nearly twenty minutes, engine humming quietly under the low thrum of morning traffic.
I remain where I am, halfway between the school’s front gate and the outer edge of the pickup zone, pretending to study something on my phone.
I watch the car through the reflection in the glass.
The driver never steps out.
I wait until the first bell rings.
Only then do I shift the car into gear and pull away, my hands steady on the wheel, though the skin between my shoulders refuses to loosen.
I circle the neighborhood twice.
