Chapter 48 Sydney
Sydney
Four Days Later
There was a lot to do when disappearing from existence.
The first of which was terminating her lease.
Considering his house was fully furnished, and with better stuff than she owned, she had to get rid of all her belongings.
Well, not every one of them. Her books were coming with her, as well as her clothes, but the big bulky stuff had to go.
For anyone else, condensing her life down to a few bags would be odd. Not Sydney. As a person who survived the foster system, having everything she owned tossed into garbage bags as she went from place to place was quite common.
Though this time around, she had much better luggage. Totes too. Not to mention, this was her call. This wasn’t a surprise. She made the choice fully informed and on her own terms. The scenarios couldn’t be more different.
Instead of dreading where she’d go next, she looked forward to it. The only hard part would be telling Cassidy and Hauwa. Not that she saw them often, once a year maybe, but it’d be less considering there would be quite a bit of states between them and Fink didn’t fly.
Ever.
He drove everywhere.
Paper trails.
This man worried about leaving clues behind. This tendency bordered on the obsessive. It was exhausting, but worth it. She had to learn to think like him, move like him, be like him. No matter how annoying, it was for the best.
Fink explained they were supposed to be ghosts.
Air travel left a footprint. They couldn’t risk it.
If it wasn’t drivable, it wasn’t worth doing.
Exiting the thrift store, which had agreed to take her couch and kitchen set, Sydney strolled through the parking lot toward her car. As she dug through her purse for her keys, she hummed to herself happily.
That was until someone cleared his throat.
Lifting her head, she stutter-stepped to a stop at the sight of Detective Morris leaning against the front fender of her sedan.
“Miss Cassidy,” he said, pushing off the vehicle. “What a pleasant surprise.”
She wasn’t so sure about that. Glancing around, she expected to see an entire SWAT team descend upon her.
“Hello?” she struggled to say.
Sydney had to remember that in the eyes of the law, and the prosecutor, she was innocent. She had done nothing wrong. She wasn’t a person of interest. They thought of her as a witness to Mitchell’s character. Nothing more and probably less.
Then why was he there?
“I heard you spoke with Sam Milford’s office,” he said as he got closer.
Instinct told her to step back—to put distance between them.
She didn’t. Defiantly, she stood her ground.
“I did,” she admitted. “Are there more questions?”
He grinned, but it didn’t seem genuine. Something was off. Her hackles were standing on end. This wasn’t good, but she had to play it cool. Remember she did nothing wrong.
“Just one.”
If this were a movie, ominous music would be playing. Her heart rattled in her chest, but she maintained calm breathing.
They didn’t suspect her.
She was free and clear.
“Why do you think a pregnant woman, who recently celebrated four years of sobriety, would suddenly relapse to the point of overdosing?”
“I have no idea.” What was he talking about? Why was he asking her? She hadn’t used a substance in ages, not since she was a kid. Sydney didn’t even drink all that often.
The detective nodded. “So, you don’t know how Chloe Grant got a hold of cocaine laced with fentanyl?”
Fink. That was what he’d done. Or, more accurately, who he’d done.
Her mouth fell slack as she widened her eyes. She had to act surprised. If she hadn’t figured out Fink was responsible, she would’ve been shocked. “What?”
He snorted. “You weren’t familiar with her history?”
She furrowed her brows. What was he getting at? “Why would I be? I worked for Mitchell, not his wife.”
“Pregnant, sober wife.”
Anger prickled her senses. She was cleared. They were looking at someone else. Why the hell was he even speaking to her?
“You had a lot of information about how Mr. Grant acquired his. I thought maybe you would know how his wife got it.”
Indignant, she lifted her chin. “I don’t.”
Purposely, she stepped around him, getting close but not enough to bump him as she went to the driver’s side of her car.
She didn’t miss how he lifted his brows at her gesture.
This detective was dangerous. She had to leave. No more answering questions. He’d surprised her out in the open. If she kept talking, she would say the wrong thing.
What were her rights again? She had to be quiet. He couldn’t make her incriminate herself. What had the lawyer told her? To shut the fuck up. She could do that.
Apparently, he’d become suspicious. She shouldn’t give him anything else to think about.
“I have to get going,” she said, wearing a charming smile. “But I’ll gladly chat with you about Mrs. Grant another time.” She frowned, dipped her chin, and shook her head slightly. “Such a shame.”
“Yeah,” he said, but she could tell he wasn’t all that convinced she meant her sentiment.
Detective Morris just became a liability. He threatened her future with Fink. There was a genuine possibility that she could be happy, and this guy, this asshole, could take it away from her. She couldn’t let that happen.