Staying Alive (5 page)

“Oh, I meant to tell you.” Darlene sat her half-empty cup on the table next to the sofa. “Mr. Allen’s service will be tomorrow. The school board is working with the family to make this a community-wide service.”

“I’m glad.” Claire put her cup aside, feeling warm and satisfied. “The entire community should come out and show their support and respect for Mr. Allen and his family. I’m going to miss him.”

“The whole school is going to miss him.” Darlene tucked her feet under her and got more comfortable. She had claimed one end of the sofa while Claire curled up on the other. “Speaking of school, there won’t be any tomorrow either. We’ll resume classes on Thursday. When I talked to Peg, I asked her about your classroom and she said you would be using the small auditorium for a while.”

Peg Mason was Mr. Allen’s secretary. “That’ll
work.” Claire hadn’t really thought about where she would teach her class when school resumed. She hadn’t thought about much the last twenty-four hours…other than the past and the horrific moments in her classroom yesterday.

“You could take a few more days off if you feel the need,” Darlene suggested.

“No.” Claire shook her head adamantly. “I couldn’t do that to my students. They’re going to need familiarity. Consistency will be very important in moving beyond this trauma.”

“You’re right.” Darlene reached for her coffee and, as if she could sense Claire drifting back into troubling waters, she said, “So, have you ever dated a cop?”

Claire had to laugh. The woman was like a dog with a bone. “I can try and set you up if you’re that interested.”

Her friend chewed her lip for a moment. “Do you know how long they’ll need to keep an eye on you? I mean, have you heard whether or not they’ve caught the guy?”

You are dead!

Claire blinked away the ugly words reverberating in her head. “Nothing. They haven’t told me anything.” She lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “But then I haven’t asked any questions. I suppose I should.”

Darlene patted her hand. “It’s only been twenty-four hours. Give yourself a little time. Surely someone will bring you up to speed by this evening or tomorrow morning at the latest. They can’t expect you to stay shut up in here forever.”

“I should hope not.”

The telephone rang. Claire started at the unexpected sound. She pressed her hand to her chest. “I’ve got to get past being so jumpy.”

“You want me to get it?” Darlene was already getting up.

“Sure.” Claire dropped her feet to the floor, but didn’t bother getting up. “Thanks.”

“Hello.”

Claire twisted in her seat and parted the blind slats on the window behind her sofa. The dark sedan still sat across the street. Should she go out there and offer the officers something to eat or drink? Coffee?

Behind her, she heard Darlene ask, “Who’s calling?”

Did cops on a stakeout order from a restaurant that delivered or did they bring a sack lunch? Okay, her thoughts were really drifting here.

“Claire.”

She turned away from the window. Darlene offered her the receiver. Keeping her voice down so the caller wouldn’t hear, Claire asked, “Who is it?”

Darlene raised her shoulders up then let them fall. “He didn’t give his name, just said he was from the Homicide Division.”

Could be Detective Atwood. “Thanks.” Claire accepted the receiver. “Hello.”

“Is this Claire Grant, the teacher from Whitesburg Middle School?”

Definitely not Atwood. The voice was deeper, more stilted. “Yes, it is. Who is this?” Maybe not stilted, maybe a slight European accent.

“I am Abdul Nusair.”

Her mouth dropped open but failed to form the words of denial that burned in her brain. Her heart started to thunder, making the blood roar in her ears.

“Claire Grant, you will die for your transgression.
Over and over again
.”

A click signaled the call was over.

Claire stared at the receiver, uncertain she had heard what she thought she’d heard.

“Who was that?”

Claire looked from the phone to her friend. “Abdul Nusair.”

A mixture of disbelief and fear claimed Darlene’s expression. “What?”

Claire licked her lips and sucked in a sudden breath. “He said I was going to die…over and over again.”

T
here was a sudden pounding at the front door. Claire wheeled around to face the possible threat.

“Call 911, Claire!”

But the police were right outside…weren’t they?

Darlene snatched the phone out of her hand and entered the three digits.

“Miss Grant, this is Detective Atwood, please open the door.”

Claire held up a hand for Darlene to wait a second. “I recognize the voice. It’s the detective who was at the school yesterday.”

“I’m sorry, it’s okay now,” Darlene said to the 911 operator. “The police are already here.”

Leaving her friend to explain the situation to the 911 operator, Claire started to unlock the door but hesitated. She did recognize the voice but she needed to be sure. She peeked out the window and confirmed that it was indeed the detective from yesterday. He was alone.

She gave the dead bolt a twist and opened the door. “Detective Atwood—”

“Miss Grant,” he cut her off before she could ask any questions, “you’re going to have to come with me.”

Perspiration had beaded on the man’s forehead and his face was red as if he’d run around the block a couple of times in his nice suit. She glanced out at the sedan still parked at the curb on her side of the street. The two officers inside were staring back at her. But Atwood hadn’t been with them. Where was his car?

“What’s going on, Detective?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but there’s no time to explain.” He reached for her arm to usher her out the door. “You should come with me
now
.”

“Wait just a minute.” Darlene stepped in front of Claire. “Where are you taking her and why?”

Atwood craned his neck to check the street and yard. “Please. There is no time. We have to go.
Now!
”

Darlene turned to Claire. “I wouldn’t—”

Before she could say anything else, the detective grabbed Darlene’s arm and pulled her around to face him. “Unless you want to be placed under arrest for obstructing an officer of the law, I would suggest you move out of the way, ma’am.” As if realizing his tactics might come across as somewhat more than pushy, he explained, more calmly, “Please, ma’am, this is an urgent situation.”

“It’s okay, Darlene.” Claire stepped around her and out onto the porch. “I’ll be fine.”

Darlene glared at the detective. “She’s not going anywhere without me.”

“Fine.” Atwood turned to Claire. “You might want to get your purse, Miss Grant. You’ll want to lock up as well.”

Claire went back inside and got her purse and, noticing her friend’s, grabbed Darlene’s. As she exited this time, she locked the door behind her.

She didn’t miss the way Detective Atwood kept surveying the area as he escorted her and Darlene to the street. Claire had been certain he would guide them to the sedan, but he didn’t. She saw the front end of another vehicle parked around the north corner of the intersection just past her house. Maybe that was Atwood’s car. Just how many cops did they have watching her?

A black SUV rolled up in front of the sidewalk where they had come to a stop.

Claire and Darlene exchanged a look of uneasiness.

What was happening here?

Atwood opened the rear passenger’s door of the SUV and waited for the two of them to climb in.

“It’s all right, ladies,” he explained. “We’re taking you to a safe place.”

Claire met Darlene’s worried gaze again. What else could they do? She could ask questions but Atwood’s sense of urgency was palpable. If you didn’t trust the police, who did you trust?

A man claiming to be the most feared terrorist on the planet had just called Claire’s home and threatened her. Obviously she couldn’t stay here. How could a sedan with two officers on surveillance duty stop a terrorist at the very pinnacle of the top ten list?

Claire gazed back at her home one last time.

“Please, ma’am,” Atwood urged, “we have to go now.”

Claire climbed into the SUV, Darlene scooted in beside her. Atwood closed the door and the vehicle rolled forward, gaining speed as they left her neighborhood behind.

Claire dragged the seat belt across her lap and watched her friend do the same. The two men in the front seat scarcely acknowledged their presence. The driver had glanced back via the rearview mirror
as Claire had gotten in but the dark sunglasses he wore prevented her from seeing his eyes.

Claire took Darlene’s hand and held it tightly. She had never appreciated her friend more than she did at this moment. It took guts to go blindly into the unknown for a friend.

Funny, Claire realized, her own sister, a woman who shared her DNA, hadn’t been willing to stand by her like that six years ago…not even after Claire had saved her life as well as her unborn child’s.

The driver took a number of unexpected turns and strange detours. Either he wasn’t familiar with downtown Seattle or he had purposely chosen a zigzagging, backtracking route to his destination.

Soon they were closing in on the Plaza, the most luxurious hotel in the city. Unbelievably, the swanky place seemed to be their destination.

The driver rolled up to the lavish entrance and shifted into Park. He and the front-seat passenger immediately emerged from the vehicle, took a long look around, then opened the rear doors for Claire and Darlene. The second man wore those same dark glasses, making reading his intent virtually impossible. Both men wore suits and ties just as Detective Atwood had, except these ensembles appeared considerably more expensive. Not the off-the-rack jobs from the mall or the less-exclusive department stores.

Another man in a similar suit, sans the sunglasses, showed up, took the keys and climbed into the SUV. Claire and Darlene were guided into the vast lobby by the same two gentlemen who’d brought them here. Very strange.

Gleaming marble and copious amounts of flowers greeted their arrival. The distinguished lobby left no doubt as to the grandeur of the accommodations. Claire might actually have felt like a celebrity with an entourage if she hadn’t caught a glimpse of one of the men’s shoulder holster beneath his elegant jacket.

“This way, ladies.”

Startled, Claire stared at the man who had driven the SUV. It was the first time either of the men had spoken. His voice was deep and unsettling somehow. She wanted to ask questions, but she couldn’t seem to find her own voice. She should ask questions, but she couldn’t bring herself to string the words together much less utter anything sensible.

Besides, as long as she didn’t know the real story, she could pretend anything.

When they boarded the glamorous elevator, Claire thought of the movies and television shows she’d seen where witnesses were taken into protective custody. Not once had she seen a single one provided with accommodations quite this opulent. But then, why else would she and Darlene be
brought to a hotel? Atwood had said they were being taken to a safe place. This must be it.

If Nusair had located her telephone number, which wouldn’t have been a problem for him or anyone else since she was listed in the telephone directory, it was a given that he would just as easily find her home.

Did this mean she couldn’t go back home until Nusair was captured?

That could be…
never
.

What about her job…her meticulously planted flowers…her new, carefully constructed life?

The elevator stopped on the fourteenth floor.

One of their escorts stepped out of the car and waited for Claire and Darlene to do the same. Strangely, the other man remained on the elevator.

Their guide led them to room 1427. He knocked and a few seconds later the door opened. He motioned for Claire and Darlene to precede him into the room.

Once they were inside, the door closed and the lock was engaged. Claire turned back to the door but the man who had driven them to this location had not come into the room behind them.

Her pulse hitched. What was going on here? This was all entirely too clandestine for comfort.

“Miss Grant, you and Miss Vernon should make yourselves comfortable.”

Claire looked from Darlene to the man who’d spoken. Another suit and tie, same expensive taste. He gestured to the sitting area near what was likely a wall of windows overlooking greater Seattle, but the heavy drapes were drawn closed.

Grabbing her friend by the arm, Claire led the way. When they’d taken seats and the man who’d asked them to do so had moved into one of the adjoining rooms, Claire leaned close to Darlene. “Who do you think these people are? More cops?”

“I don’t know. FBI maybe?”

Claire glanced around the room. A door on each side led to what she presumed to be bedrooms. A two-bedroom suite possibly. The generous seating arrangement was part of a parlor that consisted of an area with a round table and six chairs, a desk, a small fridge and a sink. The handsomely upholstered furnishings were elegant, the decor richly appointed.

Not exactly your typical hotel room.

If she listened carefully she could hear low voices in the room to her left. Three or more people, she decided after eavesdropping for several more moments. A meeting or conference call.

The man who’d directed them to be seated entered the room once more. “Miss Grant, I’ll need you to come with me, please.”

Her pulse racing, Claire stood. Darlene did the same.

“Miss Vernon, I’ll have to ask you to remain here until Miss Grant has completed her briefing.”

Darlene started to argue but Claire stopped her. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine.” A briefing she could handle. A briefing meant information. She needed information. She wanted to know what the heck was going on.

Darlene didn’t like it, but she relented.

Claire turned to the man who’d given the orders and took a deep breath.

With a hand at her elbow, he steered her into the adjoining room on the right. To Claire’s surprise what should have been a bedroom had been transformed into a conference room. A long mahogany table with royal-blue upholstered chairs lining all sides dominated the center of the space. Against the wall were credenza-type tables with everything from copiers and fax machines to stacks of files and other office equipment not readily identifiable but ready for use.

“Have a seat, Miss Grant, the team will be with you in a moment.”

The team? She pivoted to ask what that meant but the man who’d ushered her into the room walked out before she could manage the question, pulling the double doors closed as he went.

Sitting wasn’t an option. She wanted to know
why she was here and who these people were. FBI? Homeland Security? Maybe CIA. Who knew?

Claire walked straight over to the stacks of files and surveyed the mounds of paperwork and the gray folders. Her breath caught in her throat as she recognized the Federal Bureau of Investigation emblem on the letterhead of one page.

It was the FBI. Darlene had guessed right.

Made sense, she supposed. But why did they want to talk to her here?

They could have questioned her at the police precinct or the bureau field office.

Why the elaborate setup? The secretiveness?

Claire Grant, you will die for your transgression. Over and over again.

A chill ran through her, making her wish she’d grabbed a jacket. This was about him. The idea that she had been ushered over here immediately after that call couldn’t be coincidence.

Even she wasn’t that naive.

Did that mean…?

The doors flew open drawing her attention to the other side of the room.

A man, another she hadn’t seen before, followed by an entourage, strode purposefully toward her. The leader of the group wore the same uniform as the others, suit and tie. He was tall, broad shouldered and carried himself with an air of importance.
He had the most unusual green eyes. It was impossible not to notice. Classic good looks and that air of importance one saw in high-profile politicians.

“Miss Grant, I’m Special Agent in Charge Luke Krueger.” He indicated the long mahogany table with a sweep of his right hand. “Please join me at the conference table.”

The man’s deep, authoritative tone made Claire uneasy somehow, but she pulled out the closest chair and sat down. Cooperation was likely the key to learning as much information as possible.

Krueger strode to the opposite end of the table and waited until his colleagues had settled in. Four men and one woman. She didn’t recognize any of them from the scene at the school yesterday. Krueger stood at the head of the table, a statement of his position. Claire chose a seat at the end farthest from him and with two chairs separating her from the next nearest agent. That was perfectly fine by her.

The man who had brought her to the room appeared and passed out a bound report of some sort to everyone seated, including Claire. He then assumed a position at the door as if guarding it to ensure no one else entered. She didn’t open the report since no one else at the table bothered.

She wondered if Darlene were alone in the parlor now or if one of the other men they’d met on
the journey over here had arrived to keep her company. Darlene would definitely like that.

“Miss Grant, if I may have your full attention.”

Embarrassed that she’d been caught with her mind elsewhere, Claire shifted her gaze to Krueger, who remained standing.

He stared directly at her with an unsettling intensity. Those extraordinary green eyes seemed to bore right through her but she didn’t look away. She couldn’t have at this point, even if she’d wanted to.

“To my left,” he said as he gestured to the woman sitting on Claire’s side of the table, “is Special Agent Betty Nance. Next to her are Special Agents Craig Carver and Skyler Goldbach.”

Claire looked from one agent to the next, presented the best smile she had to offer under the circumstances. Some part of her wondered if a mistake had been made. Why would the FBI invite her to a briefing?

“On my right are Special Agents Ronald Maxwell and Andy Talkington. That’s Special Agent Todd Holman at the door.”

She managed an acknowledging nod as she surveyed the group, wondered again what in the world she was doing with this room full of federal agents.