"Goodbye, Dad."
"...Go home early."
After Gwen arrived, George and Beckett had learned enough. At most, they had just confirmed the timeline. As they headed for the door, George ran right into Gwen as she stepped out of the elevator.
Then...
George opened his mouth, thought for a moment, and in order to maintain his fatherly authority, put on a stern face as he looked at Gwen. "Young lady, you know exactly what time curfew is at our house."
Gwen squeezed out a smile.
The elevator doors closed.
Gwen let out a sigh of relief in her heart, then turned to look at Locke standing by the door, sounding curious. "Why did my dad come over? Did he get demoted? Vehicle theft shouldn't be under his jurisdiction, right?"
Locke smiled. "Maybe Mr. Stacy saw it was my car that was stolen, so he came to check on it."
Gwen nodded. "Makes sense."
If it were a common car theft, who knows how many cars were stolen in New York City every day. The recovery rate was... well, it was pretty small.
But if a Captain looked into it personally, the chances of recovery increased.
Not to mention Locke's car wasn't actually "stolen"; it had simply become a getaway vehicle used by suspects. The NYPD had already found the car—or rather, the charred skeleton left after the explosion—and towed it back to the precinct impound lot.
Under these circumstances, George coming over was actually quite reasonable.
After all...
If a regular officer had come instead, Locke might have been flagged as an accomplice to the suspects.
Thinking this, Gwen felt quite grateful to her father.
Locke invited Gwen inside and walked toward the fridge. "I only have sodas and juice here. Want one?"
Gwen waved her hand. "I just came by to check on you. But what about your car? Is the insurance company still going to pay?"
Locke shook his head. "I don't know. I called the agent last night, but it seems he didn't really want to talk to me."
This was the truth.
The agent who had sold him the policy when he bought the car was probably crying himself to sleep in a bathroom stall right about now.
Less than ten hours after Locke bought the car, a body fell from the sky and smashed it to pieces. Because it involved an NYPD Captain, the insurance company had processed the payout quickly.
But while they were fast, Locke was faster.
The very day he got the replacement, it was stolen, and in the blink of an eye, it appeared in a live broadcast of a high-speed chase that rocked New York. Once again, it vividly demonstrated the entire process of a car going from brand new to scrap metal.
What now?
Would they pay again?
Whether the insurance company would pay was unknown for the moment, but Locke was certain the agent who pushed the policy on him was on the verge of a breakdown.
Normally, car insurance is a profitable business.
But with Locke, he'd paid three thousand in premiums and not only broken even but managed to net a "profit" of two Audi R8s.
Hearing Locke's words and imagining the agent hunched over weeping, Gwen couldn't help but let out a giggle. She looked up at Locke watching her and quickly said, "Sorry."
Locke replied, "It's fine. I couldn't help it either."
Gwen had a strange expression, then burst into laughter.
The agent handling Locke's insurance was truly pathetic!
However...
It seemed they had both guessed wrong.
That very afternoon, Locke's insurance company called.
After Locke and Gwen finished their weekend homework together, they went downstairs and saw a brand-new silver Audi R8 parked at the curb.
Good grief.
The agent handed Locke the new keys, took a photo, and then, with a wide smile, promised that next year's premiums wouldn't go up before happily driving away.
"What's going on?"
"Uh..."
Locke frowned, exchanging a look with Gwen. "I think I know what's happening."
Gwen had also realized something. "So that's it. You got a bad deal."
Locke: "..."
Clearly.
Individual logic is one thing; corporate logic is another. From an individual's perspective, the insurance company losing two Audi R8s in a row was a massive bloodbath.
But don't forget.
Yesterday's high-speed chase was known to everyone in New York.
The manufacturer of the Audi R8 didn't matter to the insurance company; what mattered was which company insured that specific Audi R8.
This was a golden opportunity for advertising.
New York is full of thieves, and car thieves are even more common.
By paying out at lightning speed and riding the wave of this major news story, the insurance company could achieve a million-dollar advertising effect for the price of an eighty-thousand-dollar car.
That was why Gwen said Locke got a bad deal.
Locke shook his head. "It's not a loss. I also told them I don't like being famous. If they put my name or my face on anything, I can just sue them for another massive payout."
Gwen nodded. "True."
Locke opened the passenger door and looked at Gwen. "Should I give you a ride home?"
Gwen didn't refuse.
She was ready to head back anyway. Besides checking on Locke's stolen car and finishing their written assignments, she also needed to pick up the thermal container she had used to bring Locke pastries earlier.
...
The Stacy Residence
Locke sat at the dining table, locked in a silent, somewhat confused staring contest with George.
Was he eating at Gwen's house too often?
He'd only visited twice, and both times happened to be right at dinner time.
Locke could clearly feel the shift in the way George was looking at him from across the table.
Had he discovered something?
The next second.
"Where's the car parked?"
"???"
George took a sip of his first "welcome home" whiskey. "Where's the car parked?"
The car?
Gwen smiled from the side. "Dad, I had Locke park the car in the indoor lot at the corner."
Yeah.
If it happened again, the insurance company definitely wouldn't cry, but Gwen felt that Locke certainly would.
He'd "owned" a car for several days now, but it seemed he couldn't keep one in his possession for more than twenty-four hours.
It was a tragic story.
George nodded with a serious face. "The surveillance over there is working, right?"
Locke gave a sheepish smile.
Gwen's mother, Helen, walked out of the kitchen, bringing the food to the table. She spoke to George, who was clearly making conversation just for the sake of it. "Alright, just eat. After you're done, go to bed."
That line...
She was certainly blunt.
Locke kept his head down.
Gwen was speechless. "Mom..."
While her mom and dad's relationship had always been great—otherwise she wouldn't have gotten another baby brother last year—still...
Locke was right here. Watch your influence, hey!
Helen looked at Gwen and smiled. "Is something wrong? Your father has been busy since last night and hasn't had a chance to rest. Besides, Locke isn't an outsider, is he?"
Gwen blushed. "Mom..."
***
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