LITMIR.BIZ

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the front doors. She used her federal ID to get inside, signed in, and then sat in a small holding area as a guard was sent back to get Agent Moulton. The holding area was basically empty; apparently Sunday was not the most popular day to visit troubled loved ones in prison.

      Less than five minutes later, Moulton appeared through the door in the back of the room. The room itself was set up like a small lounge of sorts. Chloe was sitting on a couch, which Moulton slowly approached. He looked at her with a skeptical smile, as if trying to size her up.

      “You okay if I sit here?” he asked, uncertain.

      “Yeah,” she said, scooting over to allow him room on the couch.

      “It’s nice to see you,” he said right away. “But I have to admit that it’s also very unexpected.”

      “How are you being treated here?”

      He rolled his eyes and sighed. “It’s mostly guys like me. White collar crime stuff. I’m not ever really worried about getting jumped in the showers or beaten up in the exercise yard, if that’s what you mean. But I don’t even want to talk about that. How’s work? Working on anything of interest?”

      “No. They partnered me back up with Rhodes. She and I have been working this profiling project. A little boring at times, but it keeps us busy.”

      “You two getting along?”

      “Better than the first time around, that’s for sure.”

      He leaned in closer and once again gave her a skeptical look. “What brings you to these parts, Fine?”

      “I wanted to see you.”

      He smiled. “That makes me feel much better than it should. But I don’t buy it. Not completely anyway. What’s up?”

      She looked away from him, starting to feel embarrassed. Before turning back to him, she was finally able to squeak out something of an answer: “My father.”

      “Your father? The one who just popped back up in your life a few months ago? The one that spent most of the last twenty years or so in prison?”

      “Yeah, that’s the one.”

      “I thought you were happy about that, for the most part.”

      “I was. But then something else popped up. And then something else. There’s just been this huge pile of crap that keeps getting added onto. And this last thing I discovered…I don’t know. I think I just need someone not attached to him to give me an opinion.”

      “Maybe someone who worked closely with you before getting thrown in prison?”

      “Maybe,” she said, giving him a smile that felt a bit too flirty.

      “Well, hearing the story would be the most interesting thing I’ve taken part in over the past two weeks or so. So let me hear it.”

      It took a few seconds for Chloe to find the courage to talk about such a personal issue but she knew it needed to be done. And as she started telling Moulton about Danielle’s constant warnings about their father as well as the revelations discovered in the journal, she understood why she had refused to discuss it with Danielle; it was opening her up to vulnerability. And that was not a state that Danielle had ever seen her in.

      Even as she told Moulton everything, she kept some of the more private details to herself—particularly when it came to memories pertaining to her mother’s death. But getting out the bits she did was extremely helpful. She knew that at the core of it all, this was nothing more than a venting session. Be that as it may, it still felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

      It helped that Moulton never questioned her or even made faces to indicate his true feelings on the matter. He knew what she needed; she just needed someone to listen—someone to maybe even offer some advice.

      “I assume you’ve considered taking this to Johnson?” he asked when she was done.

      “I have. I’ve thought about it a lot. But you know as well as I do that nothing would be done just because of a few journal entries written two decades ago. If anything, it would probably just clue him in. The moment police or FBI start questioning him, he’d know something was up.”

      “You think he’d run?” Moulton asked.

      “I don’t know. You have to remember…I don’t know him all that well. He spent most of my life in prison.”

      “And what about you and your sister? Do you feel safe? You think he’d come after you?”

      “Doubtful. He still sees me as his confidant. Although I’m sure he might figure something is up since I haven’t returned his calls or texts. And I’m not answering the door when he comes by.”

      Moulton nodded, understanding. He was looking at her in a way that was slightly uncomfortable. It was the same thing she had seen in his eyes a month or so ago when they had nearly slept together. And God help her, she wanted to kiss him quite badly in that moment.

      “You know what you have to do,” he said. “I don’t know if you came here hoping I’d back you up on it or what.”

      “I know.”

      “Then say it. Speak it out loud and make it real.”

      “I need to find out for myself. Not an official investigation, but just… keep tabs on him, I guess.”

      “You think that involves reaching back out to him?” Moulton asked. “Maybe just carrying on like normal, as if everything is the same as it was before you read those journal entries?”

      “I just don’t know.”

      A brief silence fell between them, which Moulton eventually ended with a sigh. “There are a lot of things I’m going to miss out on because of what I did,” he said. “Too much stuff to really even think about, honestly. But one of the things I’m starting to truly regret is that I think you and I could have been pretty great.”

      “I’m trying not to think about that.”

      He nodded, looked into her eyes, and slowly leaned in. She felt herself being drawn toward him like a magnet, could even feel her lips starting to part to accept his kiss. But she turned her head at the last minute.

      “Sorry. I can’t. All this nonsense with my dad…the last thing I need is some weird strained relationship with a criminal.”

      He chuckled at this and rested his head playfully on her shoulder. “You’re right,” he said, pulling his head up and looking at her. “But hey…I call rights on being able to hit you up when I get out of here.”

      “And how long will that be?” Chloe asked.

      “Officially a few years. But good behavior and some bureau loopholes…no one is sure just yet. Could be as little as eight months.”

      “Yeah…I’ll give you first rights,” she said.

      “Something to look forward to…that’s good. Because this place sucks. The food, though…better than I expected.”

      She was reminded of why she enjoyed his company. He had seamlessly transitioned the awkward talk of her father into something else. And he had done it without making her feel like a burden.

      They sat on the couch for another fifteen minutes as Moulton described what life had been like for him over the past few weeks. He was taking it all with a grain of salt and had no qualms about fully admitting his guilt and remorse. It was good for Chloe to hear it—not just because she believed he truly was a good man deep down, but because it showed that people were capable of being honest.

      And given the nightmare she could feel brewing between her, Danielle, and her father, being in the presence of any kind of honesty was hugely refreshing.

      She took her leave forty minutes after she had gotten out of her car in the parking lot. Moulton had not tried to kiss her again, though she secretly wished he would. She left feeling oddly satisfied, feeling that she was finally moving forward after three weeks of feeling stagnant and stymied.

      As

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