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“Wait a minute,” I breathe. “He’s not there anymore. Where is he going?”
Jolene pulls to the side of the road, her windshield wipers smoothly swaying back and forth. She peers at the phone too and says, “He’s probably going to the apartment we have. Or he could be on his way to Charlotte.”
“No.” I remove the phone from the stand, shoving it into her hand. “Call him right now. Tell him you know what he’s done and that you’re on the way to his previous location.”
“But—”
“Look, if you really want to help me, you’ll do this! Like you said, he doesn’t know that I’m with you. I can use that! But he needs to be around. He can’t get away!”
“Why?” she asks, bottom lip trembling.
I push the phone further into her hand and point the gun at her head again. I could tell her the truth of why I need him around—that I want to face him, shoot him a time or two and make him bleed and suffer—but there’s a chance she’ll never press a foot to the gas.
I watch her press Dominic’s name and call him.
“Put it on speakerphone,” I order.
She does and holds the phone up so I can see the screen.
“Jo, what is it?” Dominic’s voice floods the car and I try hard not to cringe at the sound of it.
“Dominic,” Jolene gasps. Her eyes swing to mine, glistening behind the blue light of the dashboard. I shift the gun forward in warning. If she says anything to ruin this, I will shoot her. “Dominic, listen. I—I know about the Nokia at the apartment. I saw the letters. The pictures. Who is Brynn, Dominic? You have to tell me!”
“God damn it, Jolene! I told you I had it handled!” he shouts.
“I don’t care! I’m worried about you! I’m your wife! Just tell me where you are so I can help!”
Dominic huffs into the phone. “I’m heading to Charlotte. I can’t miss the rally.”
“Well . . .” She swallows. “I won’t be at the rally.”
“What?” he snaps.
“I saw your location at Briggs Lane. I’m going there. Whatever you’re hiding, I need to figure it out. I can’t help you otherwise.”
“No, Jo! You can’t—”
She hangs up the phone and I want to slow-clap for her and sing bravo. Her eyes find mine and I lower the gun an inch. Seconds later, her phone buzzes with a text.
“What does it say?” I ask.
“He’s going back to Briggs Lane too.”
I sit up straighter as she places the phone back on the stand, then turns the steering wheel to get back on the road.
“You know what Briggs Lane is, right?” I ask and she shakes her head with an empty look in her eyes. “It’s his mom’s cabin. The place he grew up.”
Her eyes dart to mine quickly and she nearly veers off the road.
“He never told you about it?”
“No,” she murmurs.
“Well, now you know.”
FIFTY-FOUR
JOLENE
