CHAPTER EIGHT
I don’t take kindly to being followed. It never ends well.
With my grandson in the car and no piece in the glove box to protect us, I was feeling desperate.
If anything happened to this baby, I would never forgive myself. And Marlese would send me on a VIP, all-expenses-paid trip to the spirit world.
Malcolm must have sensed my mood change because he started fussing. First, his face reddened and he puckered his lips. Then he kicked his legs violently and let out a grunt that signified that it was formula time.
I ruffled through the backpack. I flung out diapers and binkies in search of formula. Malcolm’s formula was the powdered variety that you had to mix in a bottle with water. It required a careful steady hand in a moving car, exactly what I didn’t have right now.
Th
