You could take the expressway to get from one part of the city to another, of course. It was a great way to bypass dozens of lights. But it became clear after a few miles, no doubt to Trevor as well as to me, that she was headed outside of the city limits. If I didn’t know better, I’d think we were headed out to Oakwood.

Why would Angie be headed to Oakwood? Of course, she still had a few friends out there, but not that many. And of course, maybe she wasn’t going to Oakwood. There were plenty of other suburban enclaves between the city and our old neighborhood.

I was only a few car lengths behind Trevor. It was night, and there was enough traffic that riding directly behind him wasn’t going to raise his suspicions any. Every once in a while another head would pop into view, then disappear. The dog, Morpheus. For a while, he rested his front paws on the top of the rear seat and looked out the rear window. The world’s biggest bobbing-head dog.

While he was looking back toward me, it appeared that Trevor was occupied with something. He kept glancing down between the seats, like he was searching for something in the console. His head kept turning, looking down, then back up again to watch the highway. If he kept this up, he was going to have an accident.

Once we were about five minutes out from the city, Trevor’s right blinker came on and he was gone at the next exit. I guess he’d had enough, grown tired of the chase. For all he knew, Angie was headed for the coast, and even stalkers had to pack it in at some point.

I was faced with a choice. Follow Trevor. Follow Angie. Follow no one, and go home.

Now that Trevor had given up following Angie, at least for this evening, there wasn’t anything else for me to do. It made sense for me to get off at the next exit, turn around, and head back home as well.

Except I couldn’t help but wonder where Angie was going.

A few minutes later, Angie turned off at Oakwood.

I took the same exit, hanging far enough back that I wouldn’t end up pulling alongside her at the light at the end of the ramp. She made a left, in the direction of our old neighborhood, and I turned left as well so that I could catch the ramp that would put me back onto the highway and into the city.

I’d like to tell you that I don’t know what made me drive past the ramp and stay on Angie’s tail. But I do.