"Yeah?" I turned around at Barbie's question.

She'd stopped in front of her door with her hand on the handle. "How is it going on Bert's case?"

I paused, my brain firing on all cylinders. Bert's case? The one he asked me about yesterday? That case?

"It's coming along," I lied. My eyeballs bulged from being so wide in astonishment, and I had to force my lids lower. I hadn't given his case two seconds of thought. I planned to. It was on my list for today. I only needed to find a sheet of paper and make the list. Then it was going right at the top. "NB and I were going to check out the courts now."

Her brow furrowed. "You mean the course?"

Is that what they called them?

"Yeah, the course. I like to stake out an area first. Really get a feel for the place." I also planned to Google it and watch something on ESPN. Did they show golf on television?

Her face lit up, and she pulled her hand from the door handle. "Oh good. Bert's golfing with Harold now. We can spy on them."

"We?" I asked as she moved toward me. NB gave Biscuit a sniff of satisfaction.

Biscuit's short white tail pumped back and forth in excitement. "You need a sidekick."

I hesitated. NB was my sidekick. His tail thumped against my leg in time with Biscuit. How could I say no to his friend tagging along?

"I can get us a golfcart," Barbie said with one eyebrow raised.

That sealed the deal. "Okay, let's go. If anyone asks, we're out for a joint walk."

We'd done them before, and I always saw groups walking dogs together around the island. It definitely wouldn't lead to suspicion even if we ran smack dab into Dalton. And it's not like walking NB with a friend was against his five rules.

Still, for some reason, anxiety bloomed in my chest with a warning.

Barbie talked about the history of Nick and Reba's relationship as we walked toward the golf course clubhouse. Apparently, that's where everyone hung out when you weren't actively swinging a club. It's also where we'd find the unused golf carts.

"They keep the carts over here," Barbie said, pointing to her left when we reached the white-sided club house. The black doors and trim made it super modern in appearance. They had to have redone the exterior in the last few years. "Wait here and I'll bring one around."

Barbie handed me Biscuit's leash, and I moved us off to the side, letting the dogs sniff the grass along the sidewalk.

Less than five minutes later-after we'd done two loops of our little area-Barbie came around the corner of the building and waved me forward. "Hurry. We have to run."

I struggled to hear her whisper-yell but led the dogs that way as they acted like the grass smelled different when we left the sidewalk area. "Were you able to get us a cart?"

"Yeah, let's go. We have to hurry." Barbie speed walked, her all-yellow outfit a bright canvas as she cruised over a small green hill to the side of the clubhouse.

On the other side, the course had flashy white golf carts parked neatly in two long rows. "Oh, which one is ours?"

"Thirty-five," she yelled back at me, not bothering to slow. "But pick up the pace. We need to go."

"Are Bert and Harold almost finished?" I asked, not sure why we were in such a rush.

Barbie passed the first row of golf carts and began counting until she hit the middle of the second row. A golf cart with the number thirty-five on the back license plate was squeezed between two matching carts. Number thirty-four and thirty-six.

That weird feeling in my gut returned. Nothing was out of place, so why did everything feel weird?

"Is everything okay?" I asked her as she practically threw herself in the driver's seat and held out her hands for Biscuit? I passed him off and made my way to the other side, placing NB on the seat between us before taking the passenger side.

"Oh yes. Quite right. We just need to hurry," she said.

NB and Biscuit battled for ground in the middle of the cart and eventually ended up parked between us, both of them looking out the front. Barbie jammed the key in the ignition and slammed her foot on the gas.

We jerked forward and then set off over the edge of the hill, headed toward an open space of green. The reason for my sudden anxiety crashed into me.

"What's wrong, Barbie? Why are you driving this thing like you stole it?"

I closed my eyes and crossed the fingers of my hand not clutching the seat of the golf cart for safety. Please don't let her say she stole it. Please, please, please.

She cackled and swerved to the left until our wheels touched the paved walkway. "Because I did, and we don't want to be caught making our breakaway. They keep the keys hung up together."

Oh shit.

"You didn't rent the cart?" Hopefully, they were free for residents.

Barbie threw her head back and laughed. I grabbed for the wheel, so we didn't die, but she recovered quickly. "Hell no. We can't let Harold know we're onto him."

She was crazier than me. I was cavorting with a crazy woman.

We sailed over a bump like a loaded down cart full of bricks. My ass hovered over the seat, my head grazing the cover of the golf cart and then smashing down again when our wheels hit the other side.

We were going to die.

NB leaned over me, trying to get closer to the side. His tongue stretched out, flapping in the breeze. A marker for the second hole zoomed by, and way too quickly, we hit the third.

"Do you see them anywhere?" she asked.

I grabbed the side of the cart tighter and twisted toward her, putting NB back in his spot. "Who?"

"My husband or Harold the cheater."

"Oh, right." The constant fear of death had scattered my thoughts for a moment. I'd been more focused on surviving than the original reason we'd committed larceny.

But technically, Dalton didn't include stealing on his five rules, so was I even doing anything wrong?

Probably.

"Maybe I should drive?" I yelled as we whizzed by another group of trees.

"No way." Barbie took a curve on the sidewalk at a hundred miles an hour. "She who steals it drives it."

I tipped my head back and forth. She had sound logic. Hopefully, Broadrick agreed if he ever got wind of this. Thank God they didn't have every inch of the island under surveillance like they did in Pelican Bay.

The rush of air blowing past us made it hard to breathe, and I tucked my head lower to suck in a breath.

"What are you doing?" Barbie asked me, taking her eyes off the sidewalk. "I haven't had this much fun since eighty-two, when Bert and I crashed his yacht in the Bahamas."

Oh, fun. She had a history of motorized equipment accidents.

We hit a sign for the sixth hole, and Barbie slammed on the brakes. Tires smoking, we halted less than a foot later. My body jerked forward and then slammed against the seat. NB fell off the cushion and landed on the floor, giving me a snuff like it was somehow my fault. "Shit, I think I see them."

"Where?" I held my stomach, unclenched my fingers from the handle, and peered out around the golf cart.

She pointed a little to our right, and I held my hand over my forehead to shield my eyes. "There."

Two little blobs of people stood next to another white golf cart over a mini hill in front of us.

"How can you be sure?" I asked and grabbed my phone from my pocket after getting NB back on the seat.

Barbie shook her head. "He wore that horrible bright yellow shirt out of the house this morning. It's a horrible shade, and makes him look like a banana."

I squinted. Yeah, one blob had on yellow. "Let's watch from here."

With her sharp gaze on me, I adjusted the zoom on my camera with a small attachable lens I kept in my pocket. I'd almost left it behind but kept it close for the occasional whale or dolphin spotting photo.

"What in the world is that thing?" Barbie asked as I clipped it on my phone and lined up the two men in my shot.

I held my phone out further, letting her see the screen. "My lens."

The two men came into focus, Bert in his bright yellow shirt and Harold wearing a baby blue polo.