Sixteen
FOR ONCE, I GET TO drive. After all, I know the way home.
Helen is quiet in the passenger seat next to me, contemplating the phone in her hands. She turns it over and over.
“What’s wrong?” I say.
“I’m trying to figure out what we’re going to do with this,” she answers, holding up the phone.
“I’d think it’d be pretty simple,” I say, swerving slightly to give a family of possums plenty of room. “We charge the phone, turn it on, and see what we can find out.”
“Tom,” she sighs. “When are you going to realize things are rarely that simple?”
I smile ruefully and shoot her a quick glance. “I’ve learned a lot about that on this trip.”
Helen gives a bitter laugh. “Okay, point taken. But I’m talking about police work. We’ve got two problems. First, we’ll have her contacts and text m
