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He drove and drove and drove until I felt like maybe I needed to start looking for some place to stop off for gas.
But eventually he pulled into a driveway.
To a state penitentiary.
Eyes widening, I pulled off to the side of the road and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
I gave up after twenty minutes and called Folsom.
“Hey,” I said when she answered. “Can you hack into a state penitentiary for me?”
There was a long pause before Kobe, Folsom’s husband, said, “I’m sure that she can. But maybe you shouldn’t bring her into your escapades in the middle of the night.”
I waited.
Eventually he sighed and gave up, putting Folsom on the line.
“I’m jacked into your car’s GPS location. Give me five minutes, and I’ll just shoot it to your car’s system,” she said.
I waited a whole ninety-seven seconds. I counted using the one-one-thousand method.
“What is this?” I asked.
“This is the feed from the main entrance to the rooms where I’m guessing the inmates meet with their visitors. I’m guessing you’re looking for Winston. I haven’t found him…ah ha!” She paused. “There.”
She shot a live video to the screen, and I froze.
Because on that video, even in prisoner orange, was a very gorgeous woman.
As in, drop dead gorgeous.
“That’s his ex-wife,” Folsom said. “I sent you the only article I was able to find, remember?”
I continued to watch the screen. “I guess, maybe, I didn’t understand they still had contact.”
“All logs in and out of the prison that I’ve been able to pull show that he’s only ever been to visit twice. Once after she arrived, and this one,” Folsom said.
I bit my lip.
Then I watched as Winston, leaning back in the chair listening as the woman talked, got more and more upset looking.
Then he roared something in her face, got up so fast that his chair flew back eight feet, and left.
I watched her as he left, and she looked…broken.
Upset beyond belief.
I wished I knew more.
But if Folsom couldn’t find it, Winston didn’t want it to be found.
I didn’t expect him to come right out, but he’d also disappeared from all monitors in the prison, so I’d expected him to pop up sooner rather than later.
But that didn’t happen.
For a whole two hours, I waited.
Then the gates started to open, and his car came into view.
I slunk down in my seat, not wanting him to see me.
I stayed down there for what felt like plenty of time for him to drive right on by, but when I finally poked my head up to check, it was to see a very defined bulge behind a perfectly fitting pair of black slacks right outside my window.
“Ruh-roh,” I said as he wrenched my door open.
“Hey!” I whined. “Those were supposed to be locked.”
They were locked. I wasn’t dumb. I knew better than to sit here in the dark with my doors unlocked.
“You made my phone your digital key, remember?” he asked.
Oh, yeah. I had.
Last night in between sex number one and sex number two, I’d told him about this really cool feature I had with my car. Then I’d used his phone to set it up since it was closer than mine was across the bedroom.
Only, I’d found out after making his phone the digital key that you could only have one digital key, and to change it, I’d have to call customer service in the morning.
Why had I done that, you ask?
Because it’d seemed like a solid plan at the time.
But that was before he was looking at me with murder in his eyes.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, feigning innocence.
It was a near one hundred percent certainty that he didn’t believe me. In fact, it was quite the opposite.
“There’s a reason I want my privacy,” he said to me, looking…broken.
Well, growled was more like it.
The man had a great growl.
But right then…he looked off.
Like what he was about to say was going to be hard for him to admit to. Or possibly even voice aloud.
Instead of saying what he felt, he grumbled darkly at me. “Move over.”
I scrambled over to the other seat.
“What about your car?” I asked, looking at it as we zoomed past it.
“Fuck the car,” he grumbled.
I didn’t say anything, but I did send a text to Folsom, asking her to contact Winston’s computer guy, to see if they could get out here to pick his car up.
Because the more I stared at him, the more I realized it was good that I’d come. I’d given him a reason to be somewhat distracted, but the further he had to stew, the sicker he looked.
We stayed silent for the hours it took us to get back to his apartment.
I’d just gotten out of the car in his parking garage when he rounded my car, bent down, and all but tossed me over his shoulder.
