“Well done, Chloe,” I said, and hurried into the hallway so she wouldn’t see me cry.
When I got myself together, I left the children’s door ajar, made sure the antique Mary Had a Little Lamb nightlight was burning on the table in the hallway, then wandered downstairs, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. The woman who spoke to Chloe at Ben and Jerry’s could mean nothing. Or it could mean everything.
I rejoined Paul and Ruth in the kitchen and told them about my conversation with Chloe. “I think I should call Agent Crisp about this woman, don’t you? Especially in light of what the profiler said at the press conference this afternoon.”
“Absolutely,” Paul agreed.
“Do you think Crisp will want to interview Chloe?” Paul nodded. “If she doesn’t, she’s not worth what they’re paying her.”
“I w
