Page 71 of Letting Go

"They're already up on the roof," says Finn. "We are not arguing about this. Go." I toss him the keys to the Lexus. Claire hands me the keys to Chloe's blue Squareback. He waves Mateus to follow him and within minutes we watch as they peel out of the parking lot.

"You want to drive Chloe back in her car and I'll grab the Jeep?"

Chloe's "No," makes us both stop for a moment.

"We have to stop Reed," she says. "Now. I'm not getting shut out of this. Claire." She looks up at me, her chin defiant. "I need to go. Claire, I don’t expect you to come, but—"

"Oh, I'm going with you," she says slipping an arm into her sister's.

I'm looking at those Russo sisters: one blond, one brunette, and remembered Finn's warning two days ago. Don't mess with the Russo sisters, and don't step into anything between these two.

Chapter Eighteen

Bryce

"We're on our way. Ten minutes behind you." I toss the cell phone to Claire in the back seat next to Chloe. Claire leans forward and tucks it in my jacket. I don’t trust myself to fumble with a pocket right now.

We've switched to the Jeep and Finn's furious. I can tell by the icy reception on the other end of the phone. He's not one to raise his voice, but his silence spoke volumes. Like unemployment line silence. It took Claire wresting the phone from my hand and telling him herself that she was coming and no matter what, back off. I'm still not sure it's going to work. When she hands it back to me with a nod, I knew this was long from being over.

I might not have a job after this.

It doesn’t matter. Chloe is alive, sitting in the back seat. I've adjusted my mirror so I see only her. Right now, Claire is gently brushing out Chloe's hair. She cleaned up at a restaurant bathroom a few miles from the gas station where she was abducted. Chloe didn’t want to stand in the bathroom where she was assaulted, and I don’t blame her. Instead, I pulled off a mile down the road on the right to Tiki's Café. She and Claire held hands going into the bathroom together and I flashed on what they might have looked like when they were younger, just teens in school, and before their parents were killed.

Before Chloe when to clean up some, I took several pictures of her from the front and the side. She must have felt like she was on trial and these were mug shots. But we needed the photos. As proof.

Good thing I took them too. Chloe emerged fifteen minutes later with the blood washed from her hair and face, a fresh pair of jeans, and a clean, long-sleeved, cotton V neck T-shirt. Her hair was nearly dry. Color had returned to her face and without her bloody knee catching on the torn tights, she walked without a limp.

Grinning a wry smile, she had explained, "You learn how to use hand dryers to style hair when you travel light."

We're getting close to the Exeter. My hands are sweating on the wheel. Just as we turn the corner where the hotel is, my cell goes off, Claire grabs it and presses the speakerphone button.

It's Nic. Not Finn.

I'm definitely fired.

"Bryce, we're moving people off the roof now. Mateus is with me. Come in on the side alley behind the west wing of the hotel. Jackson and Finn are escorting Raymond Clifton out the back and they're going to meet Mateus there."

Before I could ask, "and what am I doing?" he answered: "Jackson ID'd a rifle and tactical stand across the street at the parking garage. Top floor."

I turn and maneuver into the narrow alley. The hotel is down by the historic wharf area and space is tight.

Nic suddenly appears from a side door into the narrow street holding the cell phone to his ear. Mateus is close behind, and they're both moving fast. "Good. You're here," he says before hanging up. Crossing the alley, he makes a rolling motion with his hand and index finger.

As the car window slides down, he leans his head in. "Out. You and I are checking out the top floor."

I step out of the Lexus and Mateus slides behind the wheel.

I take one last look at the car as Mateus puts it in reverse, backs up, and then edges as close as he can to the door.

"Jackson's sure of this?"

Nic nods. "The top of the parking garage is above the roof of the hotel. You can see the edge of the stand."

Meaning he could see the gun.

Nic and I find the staircase to the four-story parking garage and race up the cement stairs.

The staircase is all concrete, but each time we hit a landing, we get a view of the street. When we get to the last one, we both pause, guns drawn, and take the last few stairs as quietly as we can. I've done this so many times, but the moment you start thinking it’s routine, you're dead. Nic nods, and we ascend together. He reaches down and opens the heavy metal door, I duck, scramble left, and he steps out, the clear afternoon sun glares.