It was a plan with some merit. It might put a little fear into him, even though Trevor didn’t act like a kid who was easily intimidated. But to be caught on his little stakeout, by the father of the girl he was stalking, well, wouldn’t that mess up his shorts a bit? If the roles were reversed, I knew it would scare the living shit out of me.

It must have taken me close to twenty minutes to decide this was the way to go, and I had my hand on the door handle and was just about to pull it when Angie and this guy-who, even without knowing a great deal about him I could tell was not right for her-come back out of the coffee shop.

They chatted for a while on the sidewalk. Angie rested her hand on his elbow, and her head was nodding up and down enthusiastically, and then he reached up and brushed some of Angie’s hair back over her shoulder, and I could see her head lean, ever so slightly into his hand, beckoning it.

I felt sort of, I don’t know… what’s the word I’m looking for here? Slimy? Yes, that will do. And a bit queasy, too.

“Just say goodbye, come on, let’s get this show on the road,” I said.

They kissed again, not quite as long this time, thank God, and stood back from each other, and Angie slung the strap of her purse up over her shoulder, made a small waving gesture, and so did the guy, and then he turned and started walking up the street in my direction, and Angie headed back the other way, toward the Camry.

Ahead, I could make out the edge of the Chevy’s taillights, and could see that Trevor had his foot on the brake as he turned the ignition and put the car into gear. I did the same, engaging the Virtue’s oh-so-quiet motor, slipped the car into drive, and held my foot on the brake, waiting for this convoy to get under way.

Even further ahead, I saw Angie get into her car, and about a minute later, she had her blinker on (good girl!) to indicate that she was pulling back into traffic. Then Trevor pulled out, and I brought up the rear. So far, I was the only one who had any idea how ridiculous this all looked.

Angie was heading crosstown along one of the main thoroughfares. Four lanes, lots of traffic lights. I wasn’t always able to keep the Camry in sight, although the burned-out brake light helped. But when I couldn’t spot Angie, I looked for Trevor, since he was closer and every bit as eager to keep Angie in his sights as I was.

I had a hunch where we were going. If we stayed on this route, we’d be at the Midtown Center, the site of Lawrence’s and my shootout with the black Annihilator. The mall sign came into view, and Angie, and then Trevor, moved over into the right-turn lane as they approached the entrance.

Angie swung into the mall parking lot without signaling, trolled up and down the aisles looking for a spot. It didn’t look much like it had the night before, when Lawrence’s Buick and the SUV did doughnuts chasing each other, not another car to be seen anyplace.

Angie found an opening, pulled into it, and Trevor’s Chevy rumbled past behind her. I needed to find something fast, before I lost her going into the mall. About twenty spaces further away from the mall entrance I found a spot flanked by a massive Ford Expedition and a small sports car. I slipped in, hopped out, locked the car, and started running in the direction of the mall. Under the lights of the entrance, I could see Angie heading inside. About sixty feet behind her, I could see the back of a young white male in a long black coat I was pretty sure was Trevor.

I could guess what he was up to. Another “accidental” meeting. He’d bump into her near the food court, be amazed that they’d run into each other, suggest they grab a coffee or something to eat. I could already imagine Angie’s discomfort.

Following someone in a car was one thing, but trailing someone-two people, actually-on foot was going to be something different altogether. What now, Marlowe? I hadn’t trained long enough with Lawrence to know how to handle this one.

By the time I reached the mall doors, I saw Angie rounding the corner of a jewelry store to enter into the main part of the mall. Not too far ahead of me, a boot-clad Trevor walked by briskly.

My breathing became shallow and rapid. I hadn’t counted on doing anything like this at all. I thought all I needed for this kind of work was a car and a Snapple bottle. Now, I needed a disguise. A fake face, like everyone wears in Mission: Impossible, would be good. Or, a hat. Something I could pull down over my eyes.

Angie wandered into a Banana Republic. There was no need to follow her inside. There was only one way in or out, which Trevor must have figured out, too, since he was hanging back, positioning himself on the opposite side of the mallway, in front of an electronics store that sold CDs and DVDs. He pretended to check out the new releases set just inside the door. I parked myself behind a two-sided mall directory sign that offered sufficient cover while I kept watch on both the Banana Republic and the electronics store.

I figured I’d be in this spot for a while. Angie, like her mother, never went into a fashion store and walked right back out again. Whenever I happened to accompany either of the women in my household to the mall, even on a supposedly short errand to go into a drugstore to buy a lipstick, I always allowed an hour.

I usually killed time in a bookstore or grabbed a coffee. Sometimes I left the mall altogether, ran some other errand, maybe trekked over to some hobby shop that carried sci-fi models, and came back in sixty minutes. But this time, I was staying put. The only comforting thing was, this would be as much torture for Trevor as it was for me. Maybe trailing after Angie in a mall would be enough to cure him of stalking.

I was still standing behind the directory sign, one eye peeking around the side, when I realized a small girl in a puffy-sleeved dress, no more than five years old, was standing a few feet away and had been watching me for several minutes.

“What are you doing, mister?” she asked.

Terrific. Shirley Temple had blown my cover.

“Go away,” I said. I was about to say something else when I spotted Angie coming out of Banana Republic, store bag in hand. She headed in the direction of the Sears, the anchor store at the far end. Trevor picked up the trail, keeping to the opposite side of the mall walkway. She ducked into a Gap right next to the food court, so I walked over to a coffee stand that still afforded me a view of the front of that store.

I bought a large coffee, shifted over to where they had the cream and sugar and stir sticks, found a lid that fit, and when I looked up, there was Angie, standing right in front of me.

“Dad? What are you doing here?” she said, her head cocked quizzically to one side. Her question didn’t sound accusatory. The truth was, she seemed very happy to see me.

I was so rattled I was having a hard time speaking, let alone coming up with an answer.

“You? At the mall? Without Mom? This is totally unbelievable.”

Think. Think. Think. Was it almost our anniversary? No, no, that was months away. If I said that, she’d never believe it. Her mother’s birthday? I’d had a habit of keeping track of that one, but no, I was pretty sure we’d celebrated that only four or five months ago. Valentine’s Day had long since past, Christmas was still a couple of months off, and-

“I’m looking for clothes,” I blurted.

“Clothes?” Angie said. “You’re looking for clothes?” Then she looked upward, as if there was no roof there and she was looking into the heavens.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Looking for flying pigs,” Angie said.

I attempted to look indignant. “I can’t shop for clothes?”

“Doesn’t Mom buy all your clothes?”

“Not all of them. I do know how to buy clothes on my own.”

She smiled. “Since when? You’re totally hopeless. You’re telling me you’ve come out here, on your own, to buy a new wardrobe.”