Free The 7th Tarot Card by Valerie Clay

time, until they were about halfway down the block, then Julie cranked the ignition, adjusted her sunglasses, and we pulled out. Laini stood alone in the window, a worried look clouding her pretty face, as we slowly passed her house. I gave her a thumbs-up and we picked up speed.
    We covertly tailed Bob and Mark down the side streets with no trouble, then got back onto I-405 heading south. Fortunately, there was enough traffic that we were able to blend in and follow undetected, but we hung back behind several cars just in case.
    “ Do you think we should get a little closer to them?” I asked. “I’m afraid we might lose him.”
    “ No, don’t worry. We don’t want to spook the subject,” Julie replied. “I know exactly where he’s going. The next exit is for I-90. They’ll take that and head east to North Bend.”
    I decided she was right and I was probably overthinking this. Might as well relax into the situation. Make it a Zen thing. Just a simple car ride to a simple camp ground following a subject. Nothing more. I took a deep cleansing breath, picked up my purse and rummaged through it, looking for my lip gloss. This was where things kind of started to fall apart.
    “ Holy crap!” Julie yelled.
    “ What? What is it?” I dropped my makeup bag.
    “ They didn’t take the exit! They aren’t going to North Bend.”
    “ Maybe they’re going a different way.”
    “ No, I-90 is the only logical way to go. They’re going somewhere else. That bastard! I don’t know what he’s up to, but he lied to Laini.”
    Julie gunned it and we caught up to the truck. Now we were two cars behind them and still heading south on 1-405. We drove on for another twenty minutes and passed Renton, Tukwila, and the South Center Mall.
    “ Where in the heck are they going?” Julie asked in exasperation.
    “ I don’t know, but I hope you have enough gas in this Jeep. We could be following him to Portland for all we know.”
    She checked the fuel gauge but said nothing. I was about to ask how bad the gas situation was, when the truck’s right turn signal came on and they took a last-minute turn onto the exit for SeaTac Airport. We looked at each other, mystified. “The airport?” I said. “This is getting weirder and weirder.”
    Since w e were moving at a pretty fast clip, Julie had to hit the brakes hard in order the make the exit. Our tires squealed and the Jeep rocked precariously back and forth, but we made the turn. As he passed, the driver behind us in a vintage, black El Camino laid on his horn and flipped us off. I white-knuckled the door safety bar, held my breath, and glanced sideways at Julie. Leaning forward, she had a firm grip on the steering wheel with both hands and a determined set to her jaw. Probably not the best time for some constructive feedback on her driving skills.
    In a few short moments we caught up to the truck and trailed them until they pulled into an open slot in front of the Alaska Airlines departure area. Stopping a few cars back, we watched in stunned silence as Mark got out of the vehicle, grabbed his duffle bag from the back, said a few parting words to Bob, then waved goodbye. The old blue truck slowly pulled away from the curb and drove off as Mark entered the terminal. We looked at each other in utter confusion. “Now what do we do?” I asked.
    Out of nowhere , a sharp knock on Julie’s side window made us both jump. She rolled down her window to a beefy, blonde policewoman with a bad perm, who leaned in, gave us each a hasty appraisal and frowned. “This is not a parking area. Please move your vehicle immediately.” Her tone was not friendly.
    “ Sorry, officer, we were just chatting for a moment,” Julie explained.
    “ Well chat somewhere else, sergeant, and move your vehicle now.”
    “ Actually,” Julie said, “it’s Colonel.”
    The policewoman narrowed her eyes. “I don’t care if you’re the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Move your vehicle now .”
    “