He'll bring her things to her. For a price.

"Hello. Carrie," the voice on the other end of the line greeted Carrie as she called her own phone using her husband's phone.

"I don't want any trouble. I'm on my husband's phone. Just send my stuff back," she whispers into it, not wanting her husband to hear.

"You want it? Come to my house. Alone," he told her, already dreaming of fucking her on his bed just like he did in the back of his car.

"Are you crazy? How do I know you won't try to **** me again?" she started to say, balking.

"I wouldn't describe what we did as me **** you the way your body reacted to it. And if you don't come over, I have your phone. Maybe I call your slutty country music friends and have a go at them," he tells her as Carrie audibly cries into the phone.

"I'll be there in an hour. But I'm not going in. Leave my stuff on your porch," she tells him, still hoping for some control of this situation.