Then something unusual began.
I noticed the same woman around the neighborhood near the motel. At first, I chalked it up to coincidence—one day across the street, the next near the grocery store.
She never approached me.
But she was always watching.
At first, I ignored it.
By the fourth sighting, fear crept in.
Was someone following me? Had Greg sent her? Was I in danger?
One afternoon, spotting her outside a small café, I had enough.
I turned sharply and walked straight toward her.
“Why are you following me?” I demanded.
The woman froze.
For a moment, she looked just as frightened as I felt.
Then she stepped forward and grabbed my arm.
“You must know that you’re not alone!”
Her voice was loud, almost desperate.
My heart pounded.
I thought I was in danger.
But before I could pull away, her face crumpled.
She burst into tears.
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I stared, completely confused.
“My name is Carol,” she said, wiping her eyes. “I… I knew your husband. Thomas.”
The name hit me like a shock.
