Page 47 of The Woman with the Handcuffs

“Why do we need to drag your car? Wouldn’t that Ira guy let you park it there while we’re gone with your dad’s tractor? Seems like a waste of time to go all the way out there to get someone to attach the lift just to drag a car we won’t really need.”

“I can ask. But I like being prepared.”

“If you’re as close with this guy as you say, I doubt he’d turn down the request. He’s got a whole yard full of tractors and trailers just parked there. What’s one more vehicle?”

“Yeah. We’ll see. Want me to take over for a while?”

“No.”

“Is this another ‘I’m the man’ thing?”

“No, it’s more of a ‘I don’t get anxious driving’ thing.”

“Fair,” she agreed. “But I’m usually okay on these kinds of roads if your eyes need a break. It’s hard to drive at night.”

I wouldn’t admit this shit out loud, but I was enjoying myself. For a self-proclaimed city person, I was having a good time being out of it for a while. Though I suspected the majority of that had to do with the company.

Why? I had no idea. It made no sense that being with her was any different than being with my family. But it was.

Maybe that was because Caitlin was, well, a bit of a fucking mess. It was unexpectedly charming. But it also seemed to simultaneously remove the need for me to perform—because she was too busy worrying about her own shit to think about mine—while also making me want to step up and be the calmer, steadier, better version of myself.

I always felt like my family was expecting something from me. And that I was always falling short.

There was none of that here.

For fuck’s sake, we’d passed roadkill a little while back and she’d turned fully in her seat to face me while whimpering, “Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God,” and turning an impressive shade of green. Then she’d gone all teary-eyed as she wondered aloud for a solid ten minutes if the animal had a family somewhere that was going to miss him or her.

She was too in her head to be wondering if I was being grumpy or unusually quiet. Hell, there was no quiet. Because if she wasn’t talking, she was singing along with her music.

This was the most relaxed I’d been in someone else’s company in years.

And I think I finally understood the concept others meant when they talked about being ‘alone together.’ Maybe they were onto something. I mean, not about love or relationships or shit like that. Just about, you know, people. Friends.

“I’m good,” I told her. “But if I need a break, I’ll let you know.”

I spent the next few hours driving on empty roads while listening to her crinkle snack wrappers and occasionally sing along with the radio.

“Gavino?”

“Gav.”

“What?”

“Gav. No one calls me Gavino.”

“Oh. Okay. Gav. What do you think about, you know, stopping?”

“Starting to realize chugging a giant coffee and two cold drinks maybe wasn’t the best idea?” I asked, shooting her a look.

“Shut up. Yes, I need to pee. But also, what do you think about stopping somewhere for the rest of the night? Because we still have, what, four hours of driving. And then we have an hour with Ira. By the time we actually get my dad’s tractor, we’re going to be exhausted. And sleeping during the day is probably not the best idea if we’re doing a, you know, investigation.”

“You have a point,” I agreed. “You wanna look for a hotel nearby?”

“Done,” she said, holding out her phone.

I glanced over, taking in the two-story motel with a sketchy pool and a half-broken sign.

“Absolutely not.”