The Little House of Paints

Chapter 19

"Where are you girls going again?" My dad asks the next day.

After realizing that we would have to make a four hour round trip to see Richards, I decided to just tell my dad that we were going out with the possibility of getting home late.

When it comes to Carrington Adams it is always better to ask permission first then do later. He would likely get the whole national guard to look for me if he didn't know where I was for more than an hour or two. Since this is a whole day trip, telling him is the safest bet.

"Apparently a family friend of Teagan's is in the area and her parents are insisting that she go visit them. Something about it being rude not to. She didn't want to go alone, so I offered to go with her." We are going to visit someone. That someone just so happens to be an abusive jerk that might somehow be related to the disappearance of his ex-wife. But, details.

"So when do you think that you girls will be back?" He continues making himself breakfast. He tried to make us something, but I'm trying to get out of here as quickly as possible, so I quickly stopped him. The prison's visiting hours are nine to five. With the drive, we should get there around one-ish if we leave now.

"No later than eight hopefully, but that will all depend on traffic, you know?" I plan on making this trip quickly. There is no reason for us to stay in the area, so it is basically going to be to drive to the prison, talk to Richards, drive home. We only might stop for some food along the way, which is another reason for factoring in so much time.

"Okay, kiddo, just be careful." He comes around the counter and kisses the top of my head. "See you later." Letting me go, he turns back to making the coffee.

"Aren't I always." Teagan is already waiting for me in the car. She said something about warming it up, but I know that she was just anxious to leave. 'The sooner we leave, the sooner we get back' type of mentality. She absolutely hates prisons. I asked her about it once and got told that there is a reason why there is a whole separate building built for criminals. That reason of course being to keep them away from the average everyday citizen. She thinks purposely going into one is asking for trouble.

"You ready?" I question while shifting the car into reverse. I've been asking her this all day, giving her a way out. I'm fine with making the trip on my own. Having company is always nice, but I'll be able to manage by myself.

"Oh, just shut up and drive." She crosses her arms, which looks a little ridiculous with the giant puffy jacket she is wearing. Today is one of the coldest days of the year so far and according to her, "Your car is practically on its last leg, so I have to be prepared for if we get stranded on the side of the road."

She often brings up the age of my car. While some people, Levi, love it, Teagan hates it. Well not hate, but she doesn't trust it. No matter how many times it has safely gotten us anywhere, she still is skeptical. She admits it is a cool car, but mechanical she isn't a fan. Plus, she also drives a manual, so my automatic is weird by default.

In France, they also drive on the other side of the road, so it is baby steps for my best friend. We could have taken her car, but she hates driving long distances and I have no idea how to drive stick. So our only options are my 'deathtrap', aka her affectionate nickname for my car, or me struggling to shift gears along the parkway, increasing our trip by God only knows how many hours. Eventually one day she might start to love the Bronco. Just not today and that's okay.

Doing as she says, we begin the long trip.

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Before planning this trip, we called the prison to make sure that Mr. Richards was even able to see visitors. I've never actually ever visited a prisoner, nonetheless one still in prison, so I don't know the etiquette. All I know is that the guards might not take too kindly to having two women show up out of the blue, asking for a visit with one of their inmates. Maybe they need time to prepare for these sorts of things.