Page 34 of Letting Go

Her brow furrows slightly and she shakes her head. "It makes me paranoid sometimes."

I catch my breath remembering everything Finn shared earlier. "Like when."

"Oh, I don’t know."

"Yeah, you do." I lean forward, hands balanced between my knees. "What are you imagining Chloe?"

Her answer sends chills down my spine.

"You know, that someone is following me."

I try to steady my breath. I do this for a fucking living. Get a grip. I shrug and lean back, trying to sound offhanded. "Examples?"

She sighs and leans back into the chair. "Like yesterday morning. I'm driving from the liquor store, and this guy shows up in a white Honda and follows me. I duck down two streets, convince myself I'm nuts and then I get all the way to the turnoff for 131 and he's sitting there at the intersection."

"Is that why you got so upset yesterday?"

"Yeah. First, there was the Honda guy and then those boys scared me. It wasn't their fault," she adds hastily as I sit up. "I totally made it up. Sometimes I think I'm just imagining it all."

"Until the car?"

"Until the car."

The decision to bring my inner thoughts to the fore is strategic. "Look who you're with. What do I do for a living?"

Her smile is faint.

"Why didn’t you say something earlier?"

"Because it seems silly."

I change tactics. "Why would someone follow you?"

"I told you, I don’t know," she says and holds my stare and there's that tell again: she knows damn well why and probably who. When people lie, they hold your gaze. They think it looks more truthful.

An hour later, after trekking back to The Inn and depositing two bags of trash, I'm on the phone with Jackson.

"I owe you, Bud. See you at six-thirty."

It just doesn't seem right, leaving her right now, not after this afternoon not after what happened in the bedroom, and certainly not after hearing what she told me on the porch. If someone's following her, I'm going to find out who they are and what the hell they want.

Chloe's planning to stop in at Choi's, the Korean market, to grab rice wraps for fresh veggie rolls as well as baby bok choy and a bunch of other spices she can only get there.

"I need to talk to you," I say to Finn's back.

"Good. Because I need to talk to you."

He's sitting in front of the five computer screens. Three are lit. One has a layout of renovations he wants to do to the third floor, one is loaded with text messages he's tagged for a case or client, and one hosts Nic's oddly rugged yet metrosexual/urban chic mug.

"You want privacy?" Nic says. He must've overheard me tell Finn I needed to talk.

I shake my head. "No, actually, it’s good we're all here," I say and shut the door.

"Chloe thinks she's being followed."

Finn and Nic share a glance, but before either can jam a word in, I keep going, "Chloe got hysterical last night because she couldn't get out of her room. Do you know she put a bolt on her door?"

Finn nods. "She asked me if she could. I offered to help."