I Found A Tracker Hidden Under My Car After My Son-In-Law Worked On It. I Didn’t Confront Him. I Let It Ride North — And Waited For The Call.

what you mean.”

“A GPS tracker,” I said. “The one you had attached to my car when you took it for maintenance last week. The one I found in the parking garage in Portland. The one that’s currently traveling through the Canadian wilderness attached to a semi-truck bound for Vancouver.”

Emma appeared in the doorway with a dish towel, looking confused. continue reading …