“Wow,” he said, running a hand over the faded material before he reached into the back pocket and pulled out a wallet that exactly matched the description he had provided just a minute earlier. “I’m going to have to find a different adjective than ‘amazing’ to describe you, Miranda. The powers you’ve developed over the past few days — I’ve never seen anything like it. And here” — he set the wallet down on the coffee table and fished around for something in one of the jeans’ front pockets — “here’s the fob for Cat’s Mercedes. I’ll text her and tell her to send the auto club to tow it back to the house. I doubt Simon will interfere with them if he’s as concerned about his public image as you seem to think he is.”
“Fingers crossed,” I said. “He might have already called someone to have it to
