Chapter 5

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Chapter 5 Connecticut - Section 53a-123

Larceny

I LAUGHED AS though Wayne made a joke. "What are you talking about, San Francisco?"

"He's in San Francisco."

"But you didn't even activate the web camera or...look through his browser history or anything."

"I didn't have to. He connected from an IP Address from San Francisco."

"Why would he be in San Francisco?" I asked as if Wayne might have seen something on Nick's computer he wasn't telling me.

"I don't know. Does he have any family there?"

"No. He was adopted. His adoptive parents are dead. He was in foster care for five years. He was an only child. Even his biological mother died a few years ago."

"Maybe he got a job out there?"

"He writes novels and twisted short stories about men killing their wives." I said. "You can do that-" I stopped before saying 'anywhere.' My eyes lost focus. The room felt like a high-speed elevator.

Wayne reached out to touch me and I jumped.

"Maybe he just wanted to write novels in San Francisco," Wayne said with a shrug. "What's wrong with you?"

"I have to get to San Francisco. How am I going to get to San Francisco?" I said, my voice reaching a fever pitch.

"You could fly," Wayne said.

"No. I can't fly." My voice failed on the word 'fly.'

"Why not?"

"Because I can't." I turned my back to him.

"I don't think the manhunt for 'Robyn Hughes' is to the point of shutting down the airports, you'll be fine."

"I can't fly, Wayne," I said. "First of all, I don't have any money."

"You already talked about stealing my credit card."

"Second of all I just..." I swallowed back tears. "Can't."

He laughed. "Wait, you're saying you are scared of flying?"

"It's not funny."

He laughed even harder. "Sure as hell seems funny to me." He stopped laughing. His eyes lit up, "Oh my God! It all makes so much sense now. You didn't go to that awards banquet in Los Angeles. You told me you had to go to Nick's book signing. I knew you wouldn't prioritize his accomplishment over your need for the limelight. I never knew why. Wow. You think you know someone."

I stood there, in his boxers, and contemplated punching him in the face, but I still needed him for his credit card. More importantly, I didn't want him to call the police. My nerves settled and I smiled. "I don't suppose this software gave you an address?"

"No. And I don't want to poke around on his computer. I'm not sure what he's capable of. Anyway, it's bad enough I've lied to the police, provided you money, and hacked into his computer. I don't want to do anything more."

"So you're drawing a line at three felonies?" I backed out of the room and started toward the dryer.

"Stay and eat," he said.

I stopped half way up the stairs. "I can't. I've got to get going. Are you sure he's in San Francisco?"

"That's where his computer connected from. He could be using a proxy, but I doubt it."

I ran up the rest of the steps. San Francisco. California. That was thousands of miles away. He knew I couldn't fly. That's why he chose San Francisco. Might as well be Alaska. At least he hadn't gone to Hawaii. I pulled on pants still warm from the dryer. Wayne's boxers stuck out of the top like the way some thugs wore their pants to show the tops-or more fashionably the whole ass-of their underwear.

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