The fluorescent lights of the bodega buzzed overhead. Victoria pushed a cart with generic cereal and milk, her eyes scanning the aisle. She had become “The Shield”, hyper-aware of every shadow.
She turned the corner into the pasta aisle and stopped.
A massive man in a beige trench coat was standing there, blocking the exit. It was Alistair’s Head of Security.
“Mrs. Croft,” he nodded politely. “Or is it Mrs. Vance again?”
“Get away from me,” Victoria hissed, gripping the cart handle.
He took a step closer, invading her personal space. He reached into the cart and picked up a box of animal crackers–Leo’s favorite.
“Cute,” the man murmured, examining the box. “It would be a tragedy if the boy had an accident at the park. Swings can be so dangerous. Or traffic. Kids run into the street so fast these days.”
He crushed the box in his hand, the cardboard buckling with a sharp *crack*.
“Tell your husband to stop digging,” he whispered, tossing the crushed box back into her cart. “For the boy’s sake.”
Victoria stood frozen as he walked away, the threat against her son hanging in the air like poison gas.