Read Online A Blind Eye by Julie Daines - Free Book Online Page B

another rack and jammed it on my head. I probably didn’t need that. I had basically nondescript brown hair. I checked around to see if I’d been noticed, but the store was thankfully understaffed. Then I tiptoed over and wheeled away the stroller.
    â€œGet in,” I told her.
    Scarlett took a step back and bumped into a rack of men’s jackets. The hangers clanged, and a few pieces of clothing fell to the floor. “In what?”
    I hefted her into the stroller.
    â€œA pram?”
    â€œYeah, whatever.” Even with her diminutive size, she was way too big. “Pull your legs up.” If she could curl up behind the backseat of my car for twenty minutes undetected, she could hide in a stroller. A baby blanket lay wadded up in the storage basket underneath. I draped it over her then pulled the hood thing forward to conceal her as much as possible.
    It wasn’t exactly stealing, just borrowing. I guess the shirt and hat maybe, but the mom would get her stroller back eventually—when security found it abandoned in the parking garage. I could come back and pay for the clothes later if I lost sleep about it.
    I pushed the stroller quickly, but hopefully calmly, out of the store. No sign of the Dynamic Duo. I pulled out my phone and pretended to talk while I pushed my large toddler down the passageways of the Lloyd Center Mall.
    Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Connor and Deepthroat exit a store near the one we’d just left. Connor had a wad of napkins on his nose from the bookstore coffee shop. I grinned.
    â€œI think they’re behind us,” I whispered to Scarlett. “But I’m not turning around to check.” My palms were sweaty, and my heart raced.
    â€œCome on, slowcoach,” she said. “Get a wriggle on.”
    If two guys hadn’t been hunting us through the mall, I would’ve asked what that could possibly mean. But we didn’t have time right then for a language lesson. We’d reached the exit to the parking garage, and I wheeled her out through the glass double doors and into the garage elevator. I’d parked the car down on the lower level. When the doors closed and we were alone, I pulled back the stroller cover.
    â€œWe made it. I can’t believe it worked,” I said as my pulse began to stabilize.
    â€œYou know, I’ve never been in a pram before. It’s kind of nice. I’ll have to get me one.” She laughed. “A little scary though. I might need my nappy changed.” She chuckled at her little joke.
    I wheeled her to the car and helped her out of the stroller. “Wait here while I go back for your clothes.”
    â€œNo.” She grasped at my arms. “You are not going back. And you are not leaving me here alone.”
    A group of gangly tweens walked past. “Hey,” I called. “You guys want to make some money?”
    They clustered together, casting me sidelong looks. But if there’s one thing I’d learned growing up with a dead mother, it’s that sympathy can be your friend. And so can money.
    â€œLook, my girlfriend isn’t feeling too great, and I can’t leave her here alone because she’s blind.”
    Scarlett made a point of staring off vacantly into space.
    â€œI’ll give you each five bucks if you get her stuff from our locker by the ice rink.”
    They huddled up and conferred for a few seconds, then one said, “Ten.”
    â€œDeal.” I handed him the locker key. “There’s two bags. And if you make it back in five minutes or less, I’ll double it.”
    They took off running. I hated to think what their moms would say when they showed up with twenty bucks they got from a guy in the parking garage. Wasn’t someone supposed to be teaching them not to talk to strangers?
    Scarlett climbed into the passenger seat. I pushed the getaway stroller off to the side near a thick cement pillar then leaned back against my car and