I was waiting for him.
For Arthur to appear in the rearview mirror.
For an entourage of black SUVs.
For one of his men to wave us down.
For some sign that the road behind us had already filled with his reach.
But I saw none.
We drove for a long time.
At first, every mile felt like a victory I didn’t deserve to celebrate. Then the fear began to mutate into something else, something noisier and more frustrating. My brain kept trying to do the math Frank had given us, but it kept failing.
If Arthur were in Florida, then the timeline didn’t make sense.
That wasn’t a day behind. Not if we were only a state over.
I kept watching the road.
Watching the trees.
Watching every gas station, every exit sign, every pair of headlights in the distance.
Frank had called us a day ahead.
But h
