At her first job, Claire would get screamed at for everything – using the wrong font on a document, scheduling meetings for too long of a time, scheduling meetings for too short of a time…

The job was a nightmare, but Claire had needed it, and she had needed the paycheck to keep her and the girls from being evicted. The abuse worked just as intended, too. For far too long, she was convinced that she couldn’t hack it at another job, so she stayed and suffered.

It sounded like her daughter Lucy was having a similar experience. She’d just called from the bathroom at her job, near tears, telling Claire that she’d been yelled at in front of the entire staff.

Poor Lucy. Claire’s stomach tightened. It didn’t matter how old her kids were, she still wanted to rescue them, swooping in with a Band-Aid and a kiss. If only it were that easy.

More and more these days, she was finding it impossible to help her kids. Their problems were too big and, further, they didn’t ask for her help.

Even Lucy hadn’t really needed her just then. Claire had hardly said a word. Lucy made up her mind to go back and fight for herself on her own.

It made Claire feel...lost. She was proud of her girls, of course, but it felt like her purpose was slipping away.

She opened her eyes and let out a deep breath. No one was chasing her now. Everything was fine. She didn’t need that bag unless she was planning to flee the island and never come back.

Claire smiled. That would be silly. And it would look suspicious to the FBI.

Not that she needed to worry about looking suspicious to the FBI. She’d done nothing wrong. More concerning was the criminal who was convinced she was his mother.

One problem at a time, though. Claire took her foot off the brake and continued her drive.

It was quite a journey to her rental cabin. Perhaps it wasn’t the best place to stay, but Claire hadn’t realized just how long it took to get from one side of the horseshoe-shaped island to the other – in her case, over half an hour, door-to-door.

It was her own fault. In all of her excitement over buying the hotel, Claire hadn’t put much thought into where she’d be living. Her friend Margie, who lived on nearby San Juan Island, had helped her secure a place just a few weeks prior.

There weren’t many rentals on the island, but Margie knew someone – Margie always knew someone – who was happy to rent her the little cabin at an extremely reasonable price.