by Webb, Debra
She reached for the door, almost opened it, but a nagging voice reminded her to check first. She wasn’t expecting anyone other than Darlene; however, there was a terrorist on the loose who might want revenge. Some part of her still found that notion completely unbelievable. But another part, a more cautious side, didn’t want to take any chances.
Claire waved at Darlene, who noticed her peeking through the slats of the blind, then unlocked and opened the door.
Looking woefully depressed, Darlene sighed and announced, “Married. Both of them. Detectives Benson and Lassiter.”
The cops on surveillance duty, Claire realized. She motioned for Darlene to come on inside. “Forget about that. Lunch is waiting.”
Salad dressing in hand, Darlene trudged inside. “Why do all the interesting ones have to be married already? It just isn’t fair.”
“They might not be interesting,” Claire countered. She took the bottle of dressing from her friend and led the way to the table. “Just because they’re cops doesn’t mean they’re interesting.”
“Sure it does.”
The two hugged. “You holding up okay?”
Claire nodded. “I’ll survive.”
Darlene gave her a smile that said she didn’t have a doubt.
“Sit.” Claire gestured to a chair at the table. “Eating always makes me feel better.” Until she had time to consider the ramifications, she thought.
“I’ve never dated a cop,” Darlene went on as she dribbled her own fat-filled dressing on her salad. “Maybe that’s where I’ve been going wrong.”
Claire nodded and made agreeable sounds as her friend wandered off on her tangent about the men she should have chosen. Darlene was a striking woman. Tall and slender with perfect cheekbones and amazing hazel eyes. Her long blond hair was all-natural. And she had those movie-star teeth and not a single cap or veneer. Why did a woman that gorgeous feel so panicked about her love life? It just wasn’t fair.
For a few minutes they ate in silence, then Darlene started in on the whole cop theory again.
“There’s that adrenaline factor,” Claire reminded her. “All cops, firemen, et cetera, fall into that adrenaline-junkie zone. Their work is dangerous. Think about how unnerving it would be to have a husband who dons SWAT gear and goes into a situation like yesterday.” Her gaze moved to the clock and she couldn’t help thinking that the whole terrifying incident had started around this time yesterday.
“A hero,” Darlene countered. “What would we do without them? Someone has to do it. A hero,” she repeated dreamily. “I could get used to that.” She blinked, looked at Claire as if she’d just remembered something vastly important. “You’re an official hero, too, you know. I know you didn’t watch, but you were all over the news last night. The whole country now knows that you single-handedly saved those children.”
“I didn’t single-handedly do anything.” Claire stood. “I think it’s time for dessert.” She shook her head at her friend’s plunge into the twilight zone. “Something thick and chocolatey to bring you back to your senses.”
She had just the stuff. It hadn’t come from a bakery or a fancy shop with a dessert chef. Nope, her chocolate mousse came in a pack of four small containers from a supermarket. If you spooned it into stemmed glasses, added a dollop of whipped topping and sprinkled it with her secret ingredient, powdered chocolate sugar, it was almost impossible to tell the difference.
Any good Southern girl who didn’t know how to bake quickly learned how to fudge it. Another thing all good Southern girls knew was that you didn’t take credit for a blessing straight from God. The fact that she and the children had survived yesterday was nothing less than exactly that kind of blessing.
When the dessert looked restaurant-presentable, Claire waltzed back into the dining room and announced, “Viola!”
“You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble.” Darlene reached for her dessert.
“It was nothing,” Claire quipped.
Her depressed friend popped a spoonful into her mouth. “Mmm. Yummy.”
There was no more talk of good-looking cops or love lives or lack thereof. Chocolate could always be counted on to soothe the wicked beast whether depression, envy or just plain old impatience.
Claire went all out. Even served coffee in the living room after dessert. It was that kind of day. One where she felt the need to celebrate the things she was lucky to have: good friends, a great job, nice home, food to eat, gourmet ground roast. All the necessities of life.
“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.”
Chapter 5
There 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.”