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fanfare.
    "Smart," Scott mumbled, gunning the engine as he closed the distance between them.
    The blue Audi lurched under the rising traffic gate with Scott right at its bumper. Almost as one unit, both cars turned right onto the downtown street. The driver ahead noticed the vehicle behind and reacted by changing lanes.
    "Recognize them?" Scott asked. He could make out the shadowed forms of both driver and passenger; probably men. The view didn't get any clearer as he tried to pull up alongside.
    Tessa shook her head. "No."
    The other car managed to stay ahead, making a left turn. Scott swerved, driving the Spider through the yellow light at the intersection.
    Traffic in the business district was heavy. Scott seemed to know how to drive, but Tessa's white-knuckle grip on the door and shallow breathing betrayed her nerves.
    The blue car zipped back into their lane and then made a right. Scott didn't bother to signal as he followed.
    "What are you doing?" Tessa asked.
    "Someone shot at me," Scott reminded her calmly. "I want to find out why."
    "They didn't shoot at you, they shot at this." Tessa picked up the postcard from where it had fallen to the floor and waggled it at him.
    "And you know this because?"
    "Just a guess," she said, turning her face from his scrutiny.
    Recklessly taking one hand from the wheel, Scott pointed at the postcard. "Well then, how come that doesn't have a broken window—and I do?"
    "Broken window," Tessa repeated. She clucked her tongue like a mother hen instructing a chick. "They're big on intimidation."
    "Another guess?" he said snidely. Missing glass aside, the classic sports car performed like a champ. The engine purred; revving as the car made another quick turn under Scott's experienced hands. "Do I look intimidated?"
    "You push this, and someone on the street might get shot," she warned.
    Scott's foot eased off the gas as he glanced at Tessa; the gap between the Spider and the Audi widened.
    "Logical," he said, "but I still want to know who they are…don't you?"
    Why did she feel like the question was a test? Tessa seemingly ignored Scott's curiosity directly and pointed out the obvious "We're heading towards the lake."
    Scott glanced down at the picture of the attractions at Navy Pier in her hand. "Maybe." He continued to speed but let the Audi expand its lead. Unexpectedly, Tessa placed a call on her cell and Scott listened; when prompted he provided the license number so she could share it with the unknown person on the other end of the line.
    The call was short and to the point. Putting the phone away, she said, "He'll call me back."
    "He who?" Scott asked.
    "I have a friend."
    Biting his tongue, Scott let the snide comment remain unvoiced. He fell back on cliché. "Guess it's not what you know, but who you know."
    "I'm not sure what things were like in New York, but people here are pretty tight-knit."
    "So people keep telling me," he muttered.
    She didn't seem to hear him, adding, "Marc is an old friend. He, Darla, and I all come from the same neighborhood. Since he works at the Department of Motor Vehicles, maybe he can shed some light."
    "Same neighborhood?" Scott asked, pressing his advantage that she'd dropped a personal hint about herself. "So when you say 'old' friend, you mean childhood friend?"
    "Well, sort of. Darla and Marcus were pretty much neighbors back then—only a couple of houses between their parent's homes. Darla and I didn't become close friends until we were a bit older, but of course all our parents knew each other."
    Scott listened to Tessa's light description of where she grew up. She mentioned Norwood Park, a middle-class neighborhood with neatly trimmed yards lining the street. Simple on the surface, but her blank facial expression and lack of elaboration let him know her heart really wasn't in the answer.
    His tone was grim. "We should call the police."
    "No. What would we say – it looks like we lost them anyway." The blue car was more memory than