I called Mayburn on my cell. “I think someone’s following me. That Honda again. What should I do?”

“Nothing.”

“What do you mean, nothing? I’ve got a child in the car that’s not mine, and I’m about to take her to a playground.”

“So what? You’re not doing anything wrong. The feds don’t care if you babysit for your friend’s kid. Out of curiosity, see if it’s the same license plate.”

I slowed down. The gray car did the same. “Yeah, it’s the same.”

“Good. Seriously, the feds just want to know if you can lead them to Sam. If you can’t, they don’t care what you’re up to.”

“I want juice!” Kaitlyn screamed.

“Gotta go.” I hung up with Mayburn and tried to say anything to calm Kaitlyn.

But nothing would shut her up. The kicking on the back of the seat was so insistent the band in my head decided to play a second set.

The playground was just north of Armitage, a few blocks from Lucy DeSanto’s home. When I got off at the exit, the Honda did, too. And right behind it was a blue SUV.

My hands started to shake, whether from the caffeine or Kaitlyn’s screams or the fact that it seemed I was being followed at that very moment by two different people, I couldn’t tell. By the time I got to the playground, Kaitlyn had worked herself into an absolute tizzy, her face red from shouting, her voice bordering on hoarse. I found a parking spot right next to the large playground, jumped out of the car and tried to extract a wailing, kicking Kaitlyn. She was thrashing so much I couldn’t disentangle the Houdini-like straps that held her into the seat.

I glanced around as I wrestled with the car seat. No sign of either the SUV or the Honda now.

Finally, Kaitlyn seemed to sense my ineptitude and managed to unlatch all the straps herself. She fell out of the car, still wailing.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw people in the playground stopping their activities to stare at me. I blushed what must be a deep fuchsia. I glanced around at them, trying to give an I’ve-got-it-under-control kind of smile. One guy shook his head dismissively and turned away from me. Another woman glared.

I looked around again for the cars. Nothing. Were they on foot and watching me from somewhere? The thought was creepy as hell.

As I slammed the car door, I could see Lucy. She was sitting on a bench in jeans and a stylish, puffy down jacket, talking to another woman. They both held coffee. Three kids played angelically in front of them. How was I supposed to use the tyrant known as Kaitlyn to talk to Lucy? She probably didn’t want Kaitlyn within ten feet of her kids.

Kaitlyn kept yelling that she was thirsty, which gave me an idea.

“C’mon, Kaitlyn,” I said. “We’re going to find you something to drink.”

I tugged her through the metal gates of the playground and made a beeline for Lucy DeSanto. Mayburn had told me to listen first, then try to befriend her, but there was no way. We skirted a green jungle gym and a red, tubular slide.

Lucy and her friend both stopped talking and looked up as I approached. Kaitlyn continued to yell, but it was no longer making me crazy. She was going to help me.

“Hi,” I said when I reached them. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but we spilled our juice on the way here, and as you can see she gets a little upset when things like that happen.”

Lucy’s friend, a woman with black wavy hair, eyed Kaitlyn, who was now crouching next to their kids and trying to take a toy train from one of the boys.

Lucy laughed and gave me a smile. “I’ve got a few extra juice boxes.” She went digging in a leather bag on the bench next to her and withdrew a box of organic apple juice.

“Thanks so much.” I took it. “Kaitlyn, leave that little boy’s train alone.”

Lucy smiled again. “Don’t worry about it. Noah likes to share, don’t you, Noah?”

Noah, who looked about five, nodded and seemed fine to let Kaitlyn commandeer his toy.

“He loves having other kids around,” Lucy explained. “Sometimes his little sister, Eve, just isn’t enough stimulus.”

“They’ve all got their personalities,” Lucy’s friend said.

I got the straw in the top of the juice box and tried to hand it to Kaitlyn, who had completely lost interest now that she’d taken over the train. I placed the juice box next to her.

As I stood, I felt a shock go through me. Across the playground was a man-short with black wavy hair. He wore a tan jacket. I knew immediately he was the guy who’d followed me through Old Town that night, right before I discovered my apartment had been broken into. If Mayburn was right, he probably wasn’t one of the feds, but someone else altogether. My eyes scanned the playground around him. He was standing near two dads and some kids, but he wasn’t talking to anyone. As if he felt me looking at him, he turned and walked away and passed through an exit on the far side of the playground.

“I’m Lucy DeSanto,” I heard. “And this is Bethany Larsen.”

I tried to watch where the guy was going, but he disappeared into a row of brick three-flats on the other side of the playground. Was he looping back around? Was he going to watch me from someplace else? Who in the hell was he?

“I’m Lucy,” I heard again.

I turned, offering a hand. “Uh…sorry. I thought I saw someone I knew. I’m Isabel Bristol. Izzy.” I shook her friend’s hand as well. “Do you guys come to this playground a lot?” It was sort of the parenting version of Come here often?, but I couldn’t think of anything else. Meanwhile, I checked the edges of the playground, looking for signs of the guy.

When I turned back, I saw that Bethany appeared annoyed I was still hanging around, and I couldn’t blame her. Whenever Maggie and I were able to get together I was protective of our time. But Lucy seemed happy to chat.

“I live a few blocks away,” she said. “There are a couple of playgrounds closer, but this is the best one.”

“This is my first time. It’s amazing.” The place was huge, probably half a city block, with groupings of slides and swings and bubble-like climbing stations. No sign of the guy.

“Are you new to the area?”

I took a breath for bravery and launched into the cover story Mayburn and I had concocted.

“I was in L.A., too,” Bethany said when I had finished. “For eight years. Where did you live?”

Uh-oh. “ Manhattan Beach.” It was the first place I could think of. A college girlfriend had lived there.

“How funny. I was in Manhattan Beach for three years. Where was your place?”

I made an exaggerated shrug. “Oh, God, we lived all over. Truth is, I’m not a big L.A. fan. I’m so glad to be back in Chicago.”

“Isn’t Chicago the best?” Lucy said. “It’s so easy to live here.”

“Especially with kids,” I said. “You have to be in the car so much in L.A. ”

“But at least in Manhattan Beach, you can walk a lot,” Bethany said.

“Yeah, true. It’s just not the same vibe, you know.” I don’t think I’d ever uttered the word vibe before, but it seemed like something an ex-Los Angeleno would say.

“We used to be on Pine Avenue,” Bethany said. “Do you know where that is?”

Jiminy Christmas, would she give it a rest with the Manhattan Beach stuff? “Sure, sure. Pine is great.”

I got a flash of panic. What if Pine Avenue wasn’t great? I could get myself into trouble with this L.A. stuff. And really, what else did I need to do here? I’d met Lucy. I’d see her on Tuesday and introduce myself again. Mission accomplished.

“Okay, Kaitlyn,” I said. “Let’s leave these ladies alone and go to the swings.”

She looked up at me with abject horror. “No! No! I don’t want to go!”

“We’re not leaving, we’re just going to swing.”

She bashed a fist on the train and began to sob impressively, all the while yelling, “No, no!”

I shot Lucy and Bethany an apologetic glance. “Sorry.”

Bethany sighed.

Lucy just laughed. “Don’t worry about it. We’ve all been there.”