“What? Mississippi? Why the hell would she go there?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Me: Why are you there? What the hell is going on?
I want to shoot whoever thought that these flashing dots were a good idea. Maybe even drawn and quartered. It feels like an eternity as I wait for her answer to come through.
Providence: It’s a lot to type. Is it safe to call?
Me: Mike is with me. Can I put you on speaker? Or does this need to be between us?
Thankfully, she answers more quickly this time.
Providence: Between us. Please.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck!
Before I answer, I send a quick text to Evan.
Me: Book me a flight from Norfolk to Mississippi. I need to be there yesterday.
Evan: Copy that. A return flight?
Me: Leave it open.
Evan: On it.
I take a deep breath and see Mike watching me out of the corner of his eye.
“She’s going to call, but only wants me to hear what’s going on. I just told Evan to get me on the soonest flight to Mississippi.”
“Got it,” he says and averts his eyes, giving me as much privacy as possible with us both sitting in the front seat of the Escalade.
As I click on the call button, a million scenarios run through my head, none of them good.
Providence answers on the second ring.
“Hi, honey.”
I can’t manage pleasantries at this point. I’m gripping the phone to my ear and running my fingers through my hair. I need answers.
“Good morning, sweetheart. So, you want to tell me why you’re in Mississippi and didn’t tell me before you left?”
Her sigh is audible. At least she doesn’t sound like she’s in danger.
“Yeah, about that. It’s kind of a weird story.”
“I’m listening, baby.” I want to tell her to just spit it out, but it’s apparent from her tone that she’s struggling. Noting our location, I realize we’re about forty-five minutes from Norfolk. That should be enough time for me to get the entire story and figure out what I need to bring with me on this trip. Leaning my head back, I watch the passing traffic.
“I had a surprise visitor yesterday after you left. I heading to work, but before I could leave Amelia Brown—Mellie—knocked on our door. She knows me from when we were children, but I didn’t remember her. She had an interesting story to tell me.”
“Interesting, how?” I try to keep my voice calm and even, but I know some impatience leaks out.
“Look, I’ll get to the point, but please don’t blow a gasket.”
