Page 36 of Letting Go

Her shoulders stiffen. This is going to be hard.

"If no one knows anything, how can I put them at risk?"

"Whoever is after you probably doesn't care who gets in the crossfire."

Her face registers nothing.

"Am I right?"

She shrugs and drives in silence for a moment, then licks her lips. "Who else knows?"

"Just me, Finn, Nic, and now Jackson. I'm not going in 'til six-thirty tonight, specifically, so I could do this run to Choi's with you."

She glances at me, "They all know?"

"They all know you are hiding. This thing about the high school newspaper story being on the net is a problem. The fact it went live and days later you think you're being followed means there's probably a connection."

It isn’t until after another short silence that she makes up her mind and offers a shaky sigh. Her grip on the wheel tightens.

"I've made some really bad decisions in my life. When my parents died," she corrects herself, "when they were killed, I lost it. I had less than a semester in college to finish, but I was riddled with guilt and self-doubt." She glances at me, "I'm not as smart as Claire or Travis, and I don't have a death wish like Devon, and at the time I was barely pulling C's in college. I didn't know what I wanted to do and suddenly this thing happened to my family. All I knew was I wasn't prepared to take care of them."

Tears fill her eyes and her knuckles are white on the wheel.

"Pull over." We are near the large post-apocalyptic looking gravel processing plant and there is plenty of room to swap drivers.

"No no I'm fine," she says wiping a tear with the palm of her hand. "This is my guilt and I don't want pity." She swallows. I just want to kiss her. "Anyway, this guy came to interview—we'd lost a third apartment mate—and he was….different. I can't explain it. He was British and he had this bizarre magnetism and he just kept talking about purpose and asking questions that seemed to matter—like did I understand my purpose and what was my plan and I didn't have answers."

"Is this the guy you left with?"

She starts to turn left and looks at me.

"I know the basic story."

"Then why did you make me tell it," she says but anger flips the question to a statement.

"Because you say there's a car following you, you put a lock on your door you change your schedule every day, you only want to be paid in cash and you only pay in cash. Those are all evasive actions. Those all mean you don’t want to be found."

I still can't bring up the go-bag. I also can’t bring up the fact that the white Honda is still behind us. But she does.

"I think there's someone following us now," she says.

The white Honda Accord with dark tinted windows lags a good three-tenths of a mile behind.

"Since when?"

"I think since we left Choi's."

"You're right. It was Choi's. Why didn't you say something earlier?"

"I wasn't sure. I mean there's not that many roads and not that many people. Chances are it's just a person going in the same direction, but they've been behind us ever since we left."

"You just keep talking," I say and adjust my mirrors so I can keep whoever is behind us in my sights. "I've been watching them. Is this the car you saw yesterday?"

She shakes her head. "I don’t know."

"I don’t think it's anything. I think you’re right—just someone going in the same direction we are." This is what I say, but I adjust the mirror one more time.

She starts panting, gripping the wheel off and on, trying to unstick her hands. "I don't want to talk about this."