Chapter 2 - The Tracker and the Confrontation at Dusk
My pearl-white SUV was not parked at Lucas’s cramped apartment complex on the north side of town. According to the tracking app, it was currently weaving through evening traffic near the commercial strip off Route 9—a chaotic corridor of neon signs, fast-food drive-thrus, and discount retail stores waking up in the purple dusk.
Instead of jumping into my own car—which I no longer had—I made one swift, decisive phone call. Within twenty minutes, an official law enforcement vehicle pulled up to my curb. I brought out a meticulously organized folder from my dining table: the original purchase agreement, bank statements proving every loan payment came exclusively from my personal account, the active insurance policy, and the state-issued title bearing my name and my name alone.
I explained the situation to the responding officer, detailing how my father had abused a spare key given under emergency pretenses to misappropriate my vehicle without my consent or knowledge.
The officer studied the title under the dashboard light, his brow furrowing. "Your brother has no valid driver’s license?"
"Correct, Officer. It was suspended by the state court eight months ago."
"And he knows that?"
"He was sitting three feet from the judge when the suspension order was handed down."
The officer’s expression hardened from professional neutrality to sharp, focused determination. "Get in."
Minutes later, I sat quietly in the passenger seat of the cruiser as we tracked the blue dot down Route 9. We turned into a crowded, brightly lit strip-mall parking lot near a popular diner without activating sirens or lights, gliding quietly past rows of parked sedans and pickups.
I spotted the pearl-white paint immediately. It was parked at an obnoxious angle, crookedly straddling two prime parking spots right near the restaurant entrance. The driver’s door was wide open. Lucas was leaning casually against the leather-wrapped steering wheel, showing off the interior features to one of his buddies as though he had just walked out of a dealership holding the bill of sale.
"Dad finally made her share," Lucas said loudly, his voice carrying across the asphalt. "She’ll complain for a day, throw a tantrum, and then get over it. It’s what she always does."
His friend noticed the police cruiser rolling up beside them first, his eyes going wide.
The officer stepped out of the vehicle, his hand resting calmly on his utility belt. "Step away from the vehicle, please."
Lucas turned around, flashing an easy, arrogant smile that he usually reserved for talking his way out of traffic tickets. "Hey, officer, relax. It’s a family matter. My dad gave me the keys. Everything’s handled."
Then, I stepped out from the passenger side of the cruiser.
Lucas’s breezy smile vanished instantly, replaced by a flash of genuine shock. "Elina? What the hell? You actually called the cops on your own family?"
"You stole my SUV, Lucas," I said, my voice steady and cold.
"Dad gave it to me! It’s our family property!"
"Dad does not own it. Look at the registration."
Lucas glanced nervously toward the cruiser’s flashing amber lights reflecting across the pristine hood of my car. Several pedestrians leaving the diner stopped in their tracks to watch the drama unfold. His fragile confidence began to crack right down the middle.
"Jessica needs it," he stammered, his voice rising in panicked desperation. "You know the baby is due in three weeks! How is she supposed to get to the hospital?"
"And that gave you legal permission to drive my vehicle without a valid license?"
Lucas’s friend took two rapid steps backward, distancing himself from the impending disaster. Lucas lowered his voice, his eyes darting around the parking lot. "Don't embarrass me in public, Elina. Have some decency."
That remark nearly made me laugh out loud. He had stolen my property, announced to the world that I would simply roll over and take it, and now he was lecturing me about embarrassment?
Suddenly, my phone buzzed violently in my jacket pocket.
Caller ID: Dad.
May you like
Without hesitation, I swiped the screen, answered the call, and hit the speaker button, holding the phone out so everyone in the immediate vicinity could hear.
Dad did not ask if I was safe. He did not ask where Lucas was or why police lights were flashing in the background. Instead, he immediately launched into a furious tirade, barking through the speaker: "Elina, put that officer on the phone right now and tell him to leave my son alone! That SUV legally belongs to him now!"
