We drove straight to the heart of the nightlife district, using the toll timestamps to track their timeline. By 2:00 AM, we spotted my husband's car parked outside Neon Velvet, the most notorious VIP gentlemen's club in the city.
We didn't hesitate. We walked past the line, paid the cover, and stepped into the dark, pounding bass of the venue. It took less than two minutes to find them.
They were in a secluded VIP booth near the main stage, surrounded by flashing lights. Kevin was slumped back on a leather couch, laughing hysterically while a girl gave him a lap dance.