Chapter 31: Ben
Watching Lilah drive away while doing nothing to stop her is one of the most gut-wrenching things I've ever experienced. I told her I love her, and she walked away. Well, huffed away. Fuck me and my big mouth. That wasn't the time or place to blurt that out. God knows if I'll ever be able to fix the damage I just did. I resist the urge to slam the door. I resist a lot of urges, like smashing everything in my house and calling her frantic, begging her to come back.
I know she needs time to cool off and process, but I hate this. I hate letting her leave, but I have to give Lilah some credit. She's strong, and she's forgiving. She's kind and intelligent. She'll come around if I give her some time to work through her anger. In the meantime, I can be productive.
Hacking phone companies is unbelievably easy. Within minutes of sitting down at my computer, I'm in the system and looking through Lilah's phone records. It's one more breach of trust I'll have to apologize for, but this is necessary. I am going to track down that stalking bastard and ruin his life so thoroughly he'll be lucky to have a gutter to sleep in when I'm done.
There's a number hidden behind the blocked caller ID that traces to a prepaid phone. I swear to god, the number of people who think a prepaid phone can't be traced is staggering. The SIM card identification tracks to a purchase at a local electronics store. I shake my head as I pull up the credit card information and check the clock. Thirty-seven minutes. That's all the time it takes to track down the identity of Lilah's dumb ass stalker. The purchase records show a credit card purchase dated almost three months ago and the name Nelson, T.
Hacking a major credit card website is marginally more difficult than a big box retailer and it takes me a couple minutes to access the account of one Terrance Nelson of Guerneville, California. The name rattles around in my head. I can't place it, but I know I've heard it before. I scroll through the purchase records. Most of it is benign shit. Drive through tacos, drugstore and grocery charges, a little online shopping... but one purchase stands out: $178 to ISpySupplyLLC a little over two months ago.
A quick search for the company pulls up one of the slimiest websites I've ever had the displeasure of viewing. Trackers, mini listening bugs, nanny cams and other devices specifically marketed for sleaze-balls to spy on and record women without their knowledge. They don't even have the decency to advertise it for catching a cheating spouse. No. They're using phrases like "She'll never know!" "See what she REALLY does in private!" and "What she doesn't know won't hurt her!"
I'm in a hurry to figure out what this douchebag ordered, otherwise I would out every single one of this website's clients to their mothers and bosses before burning this shit to the ground. As it stands, I'll have to come back to it later.
The invoice for T. Nelson only has one item, but as I read it my lip pulls back in a twitching snarl. A magnetic GPS tracker for a car. I feel like hot tar is pumping through my veins. I hope the police get to this packet of dick sauce before I do, otherwise I might just kill him.
I run a quick search for him on social media and pull up a page for Terrance Nelson in Sonoma County. A greasy weasel of a man looks back at me from the cover photo. Something fires up in my memories. I know I've seen him before but can't quite place it. Scrolling through the "About" section, it finally clicks.
"Works at: Manager at Blue Ruin Speakeasy."
"Son of a bitch," I mutter as it falls into place. Weasel Face is the manager that was giving Lilah a hard time the first night we met. She's told me a little about him. He was the reason she left the bar. He kept pursuing her after she told him no. Over and over.
Piece of shit.
I need to get into his computer, but it's going to have to wait. I need to find Lilah and make sure she's safe first. And I need to warn her.
I screen shot everything I found as I tap my phone screen to call Lilah. My breath sticks in my chest as I wait to hear her voice on the other end. "This is Lilah! Leave a message."
"Fuck!" I yell as I remember her phone, power off, sitting in my fridge.
If Terry is tracking her car, he knows exactly where she is and I'm sitting here like a fucking idiot with no way to reach her. I rub my temples and stare at the wall. Where would she go? Her Gran's house is an obvious choice, but I think of her sister's bakery. As close as she is with Olive, I'd put my money on the bakery.
I run for the front door as I search for the bakery phone number, grabbing my keys and dashing out the front door. I'm in the driveway when I remember the slashed tires on my car. It's sitting like a pathetic heap on the pavement.
"Double-fucking-fuckity-fuck-fuck!"