Nowhere to Run (20 page)

Linus watched Lauren’s desirable behind slither up the spiral staircase to the thirty-third floor. He followed, eager to be alone with her.

The library had high ceilings and opened up to a large decked terrace with stunning views of Central Park and the skyline, extending east over the park, west over the Hudson, and south all the way to New York Harbor.

If that display, and what it implied, didn’t turn Lauren on, nothing would.

Oh, God. Something’s wrong with the kids,
thought Annabelle as she felt her cell phone vibrate.
Please, Mike, be all right.
She flipped the phone open.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, straining to hear over the din of the party. “Hold on a minute. I can’t hear you.” She walked to the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

“I’m sorry to call you at the party, honey, but I knew you’d want to know. Jerome’s brother just called. Jerome’s dead, Annabelle.”

Yelena’s car dropped her off in front of the Majestic. This was the responsible thing to do. She must tell the troops in person about their colleague’s death.

As she was riding up the elevator, her cell phone rang.

It was Joe Connelly again. This time, with test results.

“They only found traces of anthrax in one spot. The rest of the offices are clear.”

“Where was it?” the news president asked.

“In Annabelle Murphy’s office.”

John Lee sat in his apartment, staring blankly at the television screen. He didn’t know who was winning or losing the game, and he didn’t care. All Lee was sure of was that he didn’t intend to be left holding the bag alone.

Linus had known all about the anthrax plan, and it wasn’t fair that he was denying it now, making the medical correspondent the goat.

Seething with anger, the doctor clicked off the TV.

Unwelcome or not, he was going to the party.

Annabelle supposed Linus should be the first to know about Jerome’s death. But she couldn’t find her boss. She had just told Constance the news when she spotted Yelena taking off her coat.

“Yelena. I have to talk with you.”

“And I you, Annabelle,” said Yelena, eyeing the Irish setter she hoped to avoid. “Let’s go somewhere private.”

There had been three people waiting to use the bathroom when Annabelle exited after taking the call from Mike. So that venue was out. The game roared on the television set in the living area, and the kitchen was full of activity.

“Downstairs?” Annabelle suggested.

Yelena nodded and followed Annabelle down the spiral staircase.

There was no one in the family room. Yelena excused herself and blew her nose in a tissue she took from her handbag.

“Cold?” asked Annabelle.

“No, allergies. But it’s nothing. What did you want to talk to me about?”

“Jerome’s brother called. Jerome died a little while ago.”

“I know. The hospital told the police, who informed Joe Connelly. I’m sorry, Annabelle. I know you two were”—Yelena paused—“friends.”

So Yelena knew that she and Jerome had been involved once. Annabelle wasn’t surprised. The trusty office gossip mill rarely failed.

“Yes, we were.” She felt the tears coming.

Yelena reached out and patted Annabelle’s hand. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but I have more bad news.”

What else? What else could there be?
Annabelle felt her throat constrict as she waited for Yelena to continue.

“Traces of anthrax were found in your office, Annabelle.”

Annabelle watched Yelena go back up the stairs.

She mustn’t panic.

Her first thoughts were about the kids and Mike. Thank God, the contamination was in the office, miles away from their apartment. She had already been tested, and the health department would have called her immediately if she had come up positive. She had to stay calm, but she wanted to go home.

Where had they put the coats?

She walked out of the family room, down the hallway to the first door. An empty bedroom. Then on to the next.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Please, excuse me.”

“It’s all right, Annabelle. You can come in.”

Wayne was sitting on a chair next to the bed.

“I was just giving the nurse a break,” he explained.

Annabelle nodded, wanting to get away from the sight of the tortured young man and his ruined twin. Should she tell him about Jerome? If she didn’t tell Wayne, he would think it odd, and he might be hurt if he realized she hadn’t included him in the sad news that, by now, was spreading through the party upstairs.

“Wayne, Jerome just passed away,” she said softly.

He didn’t look surprised, or particularly upset, she thought, and she’d expected a more sensitive response than the one Wayne uttered.

“I’ll be all right. I’m taking my Cipro.”

Yelena’s annoyance grew as she searched the penthouse.

Some host Linus was. Where was he when she needed him? The
KTA
staffers were looking to them for leadership. Together, they should make some sort of statement to the group, assuring them that all would eventually work out. A dead colleague, a contaminated office, and another murder inside the Broadcast Center had to be addressed.
Damn it.
Where was he?

All that was left was the upstairs floor.

She climbed the stairs and knocked on the closed door.

No answer.

Yelena turned the brass handle, her eyes adjusting to the dimness. Yet the light from the Manhattan skyline provided just enough illumination to see what she sorely wished she hadn’t.

Linus pulled himself up from Lauren’s body as she hastily attempted to cover herself with her arms.

“Get dressed, will you please?” snapped Yelena. “We have work to do.”

Dr. Lee arrived just in time to stand at the back of the room and listen to Yelena’s and Linus’s assurances.

“There is no need to panic. Everyone is safe.”

“Everything that can be done is being done.”

“Law enforcement will get to the bottom of this.”

Gavin Winston called out, “Just like they did with the anthrax at CBS, NBC, and ABC?”

“Those cases were different,” Yelena answered, trying to keep the anger out of her voice. “The anthrax was mailed into those networks. They couldn’t determine the source. In our case, we think Jerome was exposed to the anthrax that Dr. Lee brought into the Broadcast Center.”

Lee shrank back against the wall, relieved that all eyes were focused on Yelena.

“What’s the difference where it came from?” piped up Russ Parrish. “If it’s there, it’s there. Through the mail or through the front door, it’s just as deadly.”

“All of the offices have been thoroughly tested, Russ.” Yelena’s voice was firm. “Anthrax was detected in just one area, in Annabelle’s office. It’s being thoroughly cleaned as we speak.”

Eyes searched the room for Annabelle. She stood at the top of the staircase, fur jacket on, ready to say her goodbyes. The expressions on most of her colleagues’ faces read “better you than me.” A few seemed to look at her with suspicion.

“Well, I think we should all be put on Cipro,” Lauren declared. “We shouldn’t be taking any chances.”

The crowd murmured approval.

“Cipro will be provided to anyone who wants it,” Yelena said with resignation. “That being the case, there is no need for anyone to avoid coming to work.”

It was very interesting, almost amusing, to observe these people, who made their living in a fact-based business, become irrational. The party guests were leaving en masse, threatened and threatening.

“I’ll tell you one thing. If I get anthrax, KEY is going to have one helluva lawsuit on its hands.”

“If you live to bring it,” came the gallows-humor response.

Another voice called. “Good-bye, Annabelle. You take care of yourself, okay?”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. See you in the morning.”

Hadn’t the spores taken hold by now, doing their malignant work in her pink lungs? When was Annabelle going to start showing the symptoms?