Page 35 of Letting Go

"Well she screwed it up and she couldn't get out. When I finally got to her, she was shaking like a leaf and practically had one leg out the window like she was going to leap out or something. Casebook PTSD response. I had a hard time getting her to focus on me. Then you tell me how she acts like she's trying to hide and then today, she tells me someone followed her yesterday all over Rockland."

"Yesterday?" Finn looks concerned.

"Yeah. And when I ask her about it more, it turns out that story about her working here is up on the net and it has her freaked out. Has she said anything to Claire about any of this?"

"No. But," he stops and looks at me. Hard. "I was just telling Nic, on two house calls yesterday, Claire swears she was followed." Both his fists clench. "Followed. If this has something to do with Chloe, we need to dig it out now."

"And you don’t think they’ve spoken."

"No, not a peep, and I know she didn't tell Claire. Claire would have told me, especially after what she's been through."

Claire was drugged, hauled out to a boat, and nearly drowned. I will never, ever forget the scene of Nic in the boat coordinating with the Coast Guard, Claire's lifeless body, and Finn and I working on her. Claire knew all about sociopaths. She wouldn't leave anything to chance with her sister. She'd go right to Finn with any intel.

"And, you know, I'm sure Claire hasn’t said a word to Chloe. Why would she? She wouldn't want to worry her or any of them. Damn Russo sisters."

I change tactics and ask the obvious question. "What's the deal between Claire and Chloe?"

Finn's smile is dry and he shakes his head. "One, I don't mess with the Russo sisters, dude. Two, I'm not stepping into anything between those first two."

"Well, I'm not leaving her side. She's picking up some stuff in Belfast at Choi's and then, when she's back here, safe, I'll leave for Portland. My ETA is six-thirty and Jackson's been informed."

"We can’t operate in the dark," says Nic. It’s the first time he's spoken. Typical Nic, always measured, quiet until he absolutely decides to speak. Not a man for small talk. "You've both said enough to make clear there's a threat, but other than that, we are operating in the dark. If someone is trying to hurt her, that puts you two and anyone with her, at risk." He pauses. "She needs to fully understand this and explain what's going on." He reaches for his mouse. "Put her number on Spylit so we can track her phone."

"She has a go-bag."

I can feel Nic's stare from the screen. "Get a tracker on that bag too then. I'm going to meet you at the hotel with Raymond Clifton and we can talk more after. We need to get to what is really going on."

I glance at Finn. Something in my gut clenches. "Chloe's been traumatized by something. Something that makes her silent about whole years of her life."

"That's a luxury no one can afford anymore," says Nic. "Claire's involved now and that demonstrates anyone who comes in contact with Chloe could be in harm's way. We need to be able to assess that risk."

I know he's right, but I can’t help myself. I love Nic, but the guy can be cold. "I can't put pressure on her."

"I think," says Nic, "she's probably tougher than you realize."

I'm frustrated because I don’t want them to be right, but they are. "I'm going to Choi's."

He unlocks a wall safe and hands me a tracking devise, a small round devise I can clamp in her go-bag and it will just look like a button. "Do it now, while she's occupied."

I shove it in my back pocket.

"And take your gun to Choi's," says Finn before the door closes behind me.

Heading south along the coast, windows down, the dry summer air feels good. Chloe's brown arms rest on the steering wheel while she talks, gesticulating with her hands. We're in her old Squareback and it seems she's traveled back to happier days.

Choi's is pretty empty when we pull in. Late summer folks are here for lobster, not Korean food, and Chloe finds everything she needs within about ten minutes. Shoving two tote bags full of rice papers, vermicelli noodles, spices, and sauces into the back seat, I slam the car door.

"Sure you don't want me to drive?"

Her "no" is sweet, not emphatic, but not to be questioned.

She maneuvers through the stilted streets of Belfast hugging the shoreline. And there's the white Honda sedan, taking an ominous position in my side mirror. This could be something. It could be nothing, just a couple driving down from Camden. But I have to find out if she knows. Being direct is something I'm good at. It's nuance I can’t seem to pull off. I decide to be direct.

"Chloe, you need to tell me why you know someone is following you." I decide not to list the new lock on the door, the go-bag, and her no-pattern schedule.

I hate that she immediately tenses up.

"Chloe. This isn't just about you. Finn has known for a while that you're hiding. If you need protection, we need to know why. You are putting others at risk."