Find You First

Epilogue

New Haven, CT

Miles could hear the car approaching the house before he saw it. He slid off the stool at the kitchen island, where he’d been sipping on one of his fancy coffees, went to the front door and opened it.

Chloe’s Pacer was coming down the driveway. The car had sounded ragged enough when Chloe had driven Miles to Springfield in it, but it was sounding even worse now. A hole in the muffler, most likely.

The car came to a stop near the front door, and when Chloe killed the engine, it continued to cough and sputter a few times before finally giving up. Miles walked over to the car as Chloe opened the door.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey yourself,” Chloe said, lifting the door slightly as she closed it to make sure it latched. “How’s it going?”

“It’s been a long week,” he said. “But I don’t have to tell you.”

He glanced into the back of the Pacer. The rear seat was folded down, and there were several soft-sided travel bags there.

“Going somewhere?” Miles asked.

“Kinda,” she said. “I was going to talk to you about that.”

“Come on in,” he said. “Pick a pod.”

When she got to the kitchen, she did exactly that. “I want something with mocha,” she said. She found one she liked, inserted it into the machine, and while it percolated, she turned and noticed a stack of what looked like contracts and other documents on the island.

“’Sup?”

“Legal shit.”

“What kind?”

“My will, succession plans. Lots of things to sort out before I retire from the company. I want to do some other things before my health forces me to step down. Get it all organized now. An orderly transition.”

“You got someone picked to take over?”

Miles smiled. “Gilbert.”

Chloe nodded. “Makes sense. How’s he doing?”

“Caroline’s funeral was yesterday. He and Samantha will be okay. Better, actually. I think he’ll make a good leader. He’s stronger than I thought. I made a big mistake with him. I’m going to try and make it right.” He waved his hand over the paperwork. “Dorian and I are going through a list of good causes. I want to set up a fund for Huntington’s research. That’s where a lot of the money will go.”

“Dorian?” she asked. “I thought she was gone.”

Miles nodded slowly. “I’ve been rethinking that.”

“Up to you,” she said. “What about me and the other four? Guess we all gotta fend for ourselves, huh?”

“No one’s health is at risk. None of you have my genes. But I was thinking, if you need anything...”

“Look, I don’t need your money. Give it to research. And anyway, me and the others are looking at getting a shitload from Pritkin’s organization. That lawyer you suggested, he’s forming a class action. We’re heirs, right? And we can prove it. The dude may be in a coma but we can still get his DNA.”

Miles’s face fell. “I had to stop him.”

“And thanks for that,” she said. “Listen, by the time this is all over, I’ll be able to buy myself a second Pacer.”

That made Miles laugh. But he quickly turned serious. “How you dealing with that?”

“What? That the biggest scumbag in the world is my biological poppa?”

“Yeah, that.”

She shrugged, but it was a fragile shrug, lacking her usual flippancy. “I’m blocking it out. I’m going to imagine it’s someone else.”

The words hung there for a moment before Miles said, “How’s Nicky?”

“Good. Her mom’s a ditz, but she’s got other family up near Albany, so she’s gone to stay with them for the time being. For a while there, they were talking like she’d get charged with killing that Broderick guy, but then everyone came to their senses about that. And my lawyer says I got nothing to worry about with the guy we ran over, or the one whose eye I sliced open.”

“No one should have to go through what you’ve gone through,” Miles said.

This time, her shrug appeared more carefree.

“And that Roberta bitch, she’s ready to tell all if she can cut some kind of deal that’ll keep her from spending the rest of her life in jail.”

Even with Martin Gold dead, everything he and Jeremy had done was coming out into the open. Between what he’d told Miles, the information his assistant, Julie, could provide, and with Roberta eager to talk, the authorities were putting the story together.

“The others on the list, the ones you didn’t get to,” Chloe said. “They’re going to find out who their daddy is?”

“I think so, but it’s out of my hands. Everyone from the FBI to CNN will be talking to them.” He brightened, remembering something. “I heard from Charise yesterday. She’s on crutches, but a couple more weeks, she should be off them.”

Chloe smiled.

“So tell me,” Miles said. “Looks like you’ve got everything you own in the car. Where you headed?”

“I’m there,” Chloe said.

Miles blinked. “Say again?”

“I’m staying here. I’m moving in. I know you’ve got space.” She came around the island and plopped onto the stool next to him. “But I might jazz up my room some. It’s pretty minimalist. Needs some pillows and shit. Some movie posters.”

“Chloe.”

“Did you know there’s a film school in New Haven? I’m looking into that. There’d be time in between other stuff.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Are you saying I’m not welcome?”

“No, but Chloe, I’m not too bad right now, but I’m going to get worse. I’m going to reach a point where I need constant care, constant attention.”

“Why do you think I’m moving in, dumbass?” she said.

“Chloe—”

“I’ve thought about this a lot. There’s no point trying to talk me out of it. I’m staying.” She paused. “As long as I can be of help.”

She had to look away for a second, compose herself.

“Chloe, really, it’s going to be rough. You’re young. You’ve got a life. Don’t let me drag you down.”

“Drag me down? What the fuck.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I hate to see you make that kind of sacrifice.” He took a deep breath. “Here’s the thing, Chloe. I’m not your father. You’re not my daughter.”

“I’m thinking,” she said, “that this whole fatherhood bullshit is more than a genetic thing.”

He thought back to what she had said when she’d bailed from the car. “But I’m nothing to you,” he said.

Chloe slipped her arm into his and rolled her eyes. “You dumb shit,” she said. “You’re everything to me.”