Adeline's POV

I didn't go home.

Instead, I followed the photographer's trail. He'd disappeared into the crowd, but I knew his type. Professional surveillance. Military precision. He'd have a vehicle nearby. Probably parked with a clear view of the café.

I circled the block, scanning cars. Looking for the telltale signs. Tinted windows. Running engine. Someone sitting too still.

There.

Black sedan. Two cars down from the corner. Engine idling. Driver's seat occupied.

I approached from ...