On the Road

Hunting

The shadows thrown by the surrounding buildings lengthened as the sun rose higher. Still, there was an autumn chill in the air. It was time to follow the birds, and Mark Praeda, south.

            Connie turned to Nena and Lars, standing on the sidewalk before Café Noir, looking miserable.

            “You have my number. We’ll stay in touch.” Connie told Lars. He nodded.

            Nena threw furtive glances at Connie. “Yes, but not right away, because you’ll be busy in New York, right?” Connie laughed and pulled her into a hug. You should tell her to stop trying to help. She’ll get you caught if she keeps it up.

Then she looked at Nena and Lars and the possibility of maybe never seeing either one of them set in. Her hand moved absent-mindedly on to her stomach, as if she was feeling sick. In a way, she was. I hate good-byes.

Nena kissed her on the cheek. “I'll miss you.”

Connie fought the tears that threatened to come. She failed, her cheeks glistening with dampness. Lars stood a few feet away, his hands in his pockets, his head hanging down. His dark blonde hair, too, hung limply, a picture of sadness.

Connie released Nena and walked over to Lars. He retreated, but she followed him and hugged him. After a moment of hesitation, he returned the embrace. His unshaven face rubbed her neck. “Take care of her.”

Lars whispered. “I will. You take care of yourself, too.”

He cleared his throat and let her go, wiping his cheeks. Connie pretended not to see it. He's such a softy - Nena is in good hands with him.

***

Constantina climbed into her VW Beetle. She started the car and the diesel engine purred. This tank will get me 600 miles. All the way to St. Louis, which, according to the conversation she overheard less than two hours ago, was Mark’s first stop. She plugged in the burner phone she bought using Regina’s name. The one that tracked Mark’s phone.

“Well, Praeda phone, let’s see if pervy boy already left the building.”

And he had. Mark must have left minutes after their encounter. He was already out of the city and on his way south on I-94. He’s taking the longer route. Connie had mapped the drive and there were two ways to get to St. Louis; US Highway 63 or the Interstate.

You should check his text messages. Her muse nudged her. The tracking she installed came with the ability to clone all his content, but she hadn’t set that up. I just want to know where he’s going, not whom he talks to. The idea that she may see more of his perverted messages made her shiver.

Three days from now, she would wonder if checking his messages would have led to a different outcome.