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I rush around to the passenger’s side, leading Charlotte with me. “Did they see you?” I ask him.

The locks click open, and I open my door.

“Not yet,” he answers, lowering himself into the driver’s seat.

I sit Charlotte in my lap, holding her close.

“Mommy, you lost,” she tells me.

I wince. “Yeah, you’re right, honey. Keep your head down.”

She lowers her head, resting it against my chest.

Milo turns the ignition. He moves fast, shifting us into reverse, and hitting the gas. The car jerks around onto the street and he drives us forward down the block to the corner. Relief fills my chest. I look back to see if we’ve been noticed yet.

He hits the brake, coming to a quick stop.

“Milo, what are you doing?”

He hops out of the car with that large knife in hand. I twist in my seat, watching him rush toward their black car on the curb. He bends over and stabs the front tire, letting all the air out of it.

“Hey, you motherfuck!”

I look toward my house. The two men race across the front lawn in our direction with angry eyes and guns drawn.

“Milo!” I shout.

He returns to the car and shifts into gear again, slamming his foot on the gas before the door is even closed. The men shout obscenities at their car, raging at the knife sticking out of their tire. We race through multiple stop signs, gaining as much distance from them as possible.

I close my eyes and lay back against the headrest. The Irish mafia tried to kill me and my daughter. No amount of deep, soothing breaths are going to make me feel calm about that right now.

“Are you okay, Detective?”

I open my eyes again. Milo has slowed our speed somewhat. We’re out of my neighborhood and into the city, surrounded by the usual late-night Boston traffic.

I look down at Charlotte, still resting her head on me.

I nod to answer his question. “Where are we going?” I ask.

Milo stares straight ahead. “I know a place,” he says.

It’s vague and frustrating, but I choose to trust him. It happens quickly, without me even thinking about what it might mean.

I look out into the pouring rain, watching the orange puddles pass by as they reflect the street lights above us.

CHAPTER 18

MILO

“Where are we, Mommy?”

I hear Charlotte whisper in Anna’s ear as we climb the darkened stairwell up to my apartment. I crane back to see her little fingers clinging to Anna’s jacket. She barely lifts her head from her mother’s comforting shoulder. She’s terrified and confused, but so is Anna. Hell, so am I.

Anna glances up at me from three stairs back, but I turn away before she notices me looking. “I don’t know, honey,” she whispers back.

I should do something more to put them at ease. If my heart would stop pounding, I definitely could.

I clear my throat and pause at the top of the stairwell. “Fourth floor,” I say, flashing a smile that I hope is comforting. “Sorry, the elevator has been broken since I moved in.”