by Webb, Debra
Krueger kept her close to him, not daring to let go of that connection…his hand clutching hers or his arm around her shoulder. His constant watch and vigil to protect her made her want to turn into the protection he offered and just let go of the worry…of the pain.
He wouldn’t allow her to get close to what was left of the house, which wasn’t much. The fire trucks arrived and worked quickly to drown the few lingering flames.
She heard someone say that it would be hours before they knew for certain if anyone had been in the house. Hours. Again she said a quick prayer for Chad and his family. Surely Nusair would have wanted to taunt her more than this. Let her see the child trapped or something like that…the way he did at the mall.
Then again, the not knowing was almost worse.
Out of the blue she remembered her last face-to-face conversation with Darlene.
Take care of my place for me.
Another wallop of fear crashed in on her.
“I need your phone!” She turned to face Krueger, her fingers fisting in his shirtfront. “Your phone. I need your phone!”
If Darlene wasn’t home…oh, God. What was her cell number? Claire knew it…she had to think!
Krueger seemed to shelter her with those broad shoulders and powerful arms as he passed his cell phone to her. Claire let him, didn’t want to feel this vulnerable, as she stabbed in Darlene’s home number. She had to start over…more slowly this time.
Claire listened to the ringing on Darlene’s line.
If she were home she should be up and getting ready for school by now. No wait, there wasn’t school today, was there?
Another ring.
More of that fear tightened around her chest.
Please let her be okay.
“Hello.”
Relief flooded Claire, making her sway. “Darlene, you’re home?”
“I was just getting out of the shower. Is everything okay?”
Claire stared at her house. No, nothing was ever going to be okay again. But she couldn’t break down about that. She had to keep it together. “Well, my house just blew up, but other than that, I’m good.” Save for a terrorist for a stalker, she didn’t add. But that was no big deal, right?
“Are you okay? Jesus, Claire, this is horrible. You mean it just blew up? Just now?”
“Yes.” She wanted to say no she wasn’t all right. But her friend didn’t need to hear that. “I’m fine. I just…” What a mess. What would she do, assuming she survived this crazy ordeal?
“I have to go, Darlene.” She wanted to move closer to where a crew wearing fireproof gear and using special tools was now sifting through the rubble that used to be her house.
“Be careful, Claire,” her friend urged.
“I’ll try.” Claire closed the phone and gave it back to Krueger. Television news vans had arrived and reporters were already shouting questions.
The unmistakable sound of her cell phone rose above the growing commotion around her.
Claire’s gaze collided with Krueger’s.
She’d just spoken to Darlene.
This wouldn’t be Darlene.
Talkington rushed over. “It’s him.” He looked from Krueger to Claire and back. “We’ve identified the number he’s calling from. We just can’t locate it.”
Whoever was monitoring the calls on her phone had passed the information along via the communications link the agents appeared to wear twenty-four hours per day. If Talkington said it was him…he had confirmation. It would be Nusair.
Rising terror nipped at Claire as she realized this call would be about Chad.
Krueger passed her cell phone to her.
Claire took a breath and opened it. “Hello.”
“Too bad about your nice little house, Miss Grant.”
Outrage abruptly elbowed aside the fear. “Where’s Chad?” That was all she wanted from this lowlife scumbag. She refused to chat with him.
“You look so upset, Miss Grant. Is the FBI treating you poorly?”
She stopped…turned all the way around, her gaze scanning the faces in the crowd…the windows of the neighboring houses.
He was here. Watching her. Reveling in the result of his evil deeds.
With nothing more than a few gestures Krueger ordered his men to form a boundary in both directions along the street. He grabbed Claire by the arm and started hauling her toward the closest SUV.
“You shouldn’t be in such a hurry to go, Miss Grant. Don’t you want to see if there is anything left to salvage? Or have you lost everything?”
Claire froze at the SUV’s open door. Nusair had just admitted something significant to her. He’d lost everything. His son had been everything to him. He wanted her to feel the same loss.
She wondered what he would say if she told him that she had already lost everything…. She’d lost it all six years ago. But if he didn’t already know about her sister, she wasn’t about to give him any more ammunition. Let him dig for whatever he found out about her.
“It’s me you want, Nusair,” she said, her voice steady and calm for a woman who’d just watched her home go kaboom. “Let the boy go. I’ll come to you. Name the place. I’m ready right now.”
She wrenched free of Krueger and backed away from the SUV, stood out in the open where Nusair could easily see her.
Krueger reached for her again but she avoided his touch, held up her free hand to back him off. She had to do this.
“Come on, Nusair. Why go through all this risky foreplay? You don’t need these games. Tell me where you are and I’ll come to you. Right now. I’m what you really want. I’m all yours.”
“Get in the vehicle, Claire,” Krueger ordered as he grabbed her arm again.
She yanked free of his grip, arrowed him a warning look.
“Your protector doesn’t agree,” Nusair countered. “And I’m afraid your offer, tempting as it may be, is much too easy for all concerned. Recent developments have given me a second agenda. I’ve waited a long time to get your new friend in this very position. A position that requires a most difficult choice. Perhaps this will be the moment and I will enjoy double the pleasure.”
Her gaze connected with Krueger’s.
“What does that mean, Nusair?” She was tired of his riddles.
“You must go to Port Townsend, Claire Grant. Look for the ferry named Olympas. Wait on the boardwalk for my instructions. You must hurry. You have only forty-five minutes.”
Her dread escalated, overtaking all other emotion.
“Hurry, Claire Grant, or the child will die.”
He severed the connection.
Claire propelled herself into the SUV Krueger had been attempting to prod her into. The windows were still intact in this one and Talkington was already behind the wheel. “Did you get that?” she demanded of Krueger who was climbing into the front passenger’s seat.
He didn’t have to answer her directly. He was busy issuing orders via his communications link and those orders were answer enough. Then he turned to Talkington. “You’re going to have to lose any of the media that attempts to tail us.”
“Will do.”
Claire twisted around in her seat and watched as they drove away. Sure enough, two reporters fell in behind them. The news channel logo on one of the vans she recognized, the other she didn’t.
“We only have forty-five minutes,” Claire reminded. Port Townsend was at least twenty minutes away. And finding the right dock would take time. They didn’t have any time to waste.
No one responded to her reminder. They knew as well as she did what was at stake.
She wrung her hands together and prayed this situation wouldn’t be even worse than the last one. She had to calm down. If she didn’t get a grip, she wouldn’t be able to do what had to be done. Chad Wade was counting on her. She had to do this right for him.
Closing her eyes, she tried to picture the ferry. She was familiar with the area. But for the life of her she couldn’t remember any relevant details. W
here exactly was the Olympas?
She was wasting her energy worrying. Krueger and his men would have all the pertinent details well before they arrived. She knew that about his team. They were extremely efficient. By the time they’d reached the mall last time, Krueger’s people had every single relevant detail. The only thing she needed to do now was brace herself for what was to come.
Nusair’s comment about how long he had wanted to get Krueger in a position to have to make a difficult choice nagged at her. What had he meant by that? Surely Krueger had some idea since he’d heard Nusair’s end of the conversation the same as she had. There really hadn’t been time for him to explain what Nusair meant…or maybe he didn’t intend to discuss with her his private issues related to this terrorist.
She tried to push the topic out of her thoughts, but it wasn’t going anywhere.
When they had given the reporters the slip and were within ten minutes of their destination, Claire decided she should ask Krueger about it. If there was relevant history between Krueger and Nusair, she had a right to know.
“What did Nusair mean when he said he’d waited a long time to get you in this position?”
For several seconds she felt certain he wasn’t going to respond, then he started talking. “Nusair is only attempting to distract you, Claire. You shouldn’t put any stock in his offhanded comments.”
He wouldn’t look at her when he said this and his response had Talkington cutting a sidelong glance in his direction. This only confirmed Claire’s suspicion.
Krueger had just lied to her. Maybe only by omission, but in her book it was a lie just the same.
She couldn’t help but feel disappointment. He’d kissed her, for heaven’s sake. She’d thought they had connected. Surely she hadn’t been that wrong about what she’d felt. Still, he’d just lied to her.
Maybe she’d been wrong about what the kiss meant. About what she’d seen in his eyes. About him.
The port came into view, and again, everyone in the vicinity had been moved far away from the water where the ferries were docked. A line of Seattle’s finest, as well as a temporary barricade, was in place. It amazed her even now, considering the circumstances that had brought her here, how quickly the authorities could work in a situation like this.
Tension vibrated inside her, reminding her that the gorgeous Olympic and Cascade Mountains in the distance might very well be the last things she ever saw. At least she couldn’t complain about the setting. If a girl had to die, this was as close to heaven as could be found on this earth.
Her gaze swept over the broad, deep Puget Sound and the tiny islands and ragged peninsulas beyond. She’d fallen in love with this place the first time she saw it.
How could anything bad happen at such a beautiful place?
When the SUV stopped she started to get out.
“Wait,” Krueger ordered.
He was listening, she realized. Someone on his team was likely giving him an update via their communications link.
“We can’t go beyond the boardwalk,” he told Talkington, his voice resigned. “Same scenario as the mall. Nusair has a sniper keeping anyone from going past that point. Dammit.”
Claire surveyed the boardwalk and the pier beyond. He had to be using one or more of the boats. Maybe the Olympas, her destination. She took a long slow look around. Then again, a sniper as good as Nusair’s could be anywhere within a couple hundred yards.
Half a dozen agents appeared at her door and Krueger gave her the go-ahead to emerge from the vehicle. Once she was rigged for communications she was ready to go.
“We need a moment,” he said to his people.
The other agents backed off, leaving him shielding her in the V-shaped space made by the open vehicle door.
He looked pretty much anywhere but at her. “If I let you do this—”
“Wait.” She held up a hand to stop him right here. “We don’t have a choice. You know that.”
His eyes locked with hers then. “He’s going to kill you, Claire. You know that.”
And then she knew just how much his stoic determination had cost him. He wanted Nusair; that was absolutely true. But he didn’t want Claire to pay the price. His need to protect her went deeper than the professional…she could see that…could feel it radiating from him.
“We’re wasting time,” she reminded him, some part of her deeply grateful that he’d showed her just how much he cared. She’d known his compassion equaled his passion, but this confirmed his feelings about the job and about her.
“Sir?” Talkington stepped toward them. “We’re ready.”
Krueger held her gaze a moment longer before he moved aside and let her go.
Claire moved forward, again surrounded by a protective shield of agents, until she reached the point where the sniper fire prevented anyone else from going forward with her. She cleared her mind of all other thoughts. Nothing else could get in the way right now.
The first step onto the boardwalk had fear clamping down around her chest, making a deep breath impossible.
When a bullet didn’t tear through her, she moved forward a few more feet toward the ferry, then waited as Nusair had ordered.
She didn’t make any unexpected moves. Didn’t do anything that might even remotely be construed as aggressive.
The sound of seagulls drew her attention to the sky where they seemed to float in midair, drifting high above the water.
The sky was amazingly blue…perfect.
A nice day for staying alive.
She’d made it to the gangplank to the ferry when Krueger’s voice murmured in her ear.
“Five years ago he killed one of my agents.” The anguish in his voice squeezed at her heart.
Claire moistened her lips and managed to haul in a decent breath. “I’m sorry.”
“I had to make a choice,” Krueger said. “Let my agent die or let Nusair walk.”
The realization of what he’d done stole the breath Claire had managed to draw in.
“The standoff lasted several minutes. Nusair was convinced he’d won, that I wouldn’t risk a fellow agent’s life. He laughed. Asked me if I would really let him shoot her. When I hesitated about lowering my bead on him, he shot her. My agent died and he escaped anyway. It was my fault. The decision was mine.”
Claire wasn’t sure what to say to that. Sorry wasn’t nearly enough. She was sure Krueger never closed his eyes without reliving that moment. She thought of her own situation six years ago. Maybe they had something far more than physical attraction in common after all. Too bad it had to be the kind of damaging event one didn’t want to talk about, much less share.
“I won’t make the wrong choice this time, Claire.”
She told herself not to read too much into the words. Too late. He’d already had an effect on her. She doubted that the feeling would fade so easily, assuming she was still breathing when this was over.
Her cell phone rang.
“Hello.”
“You have less than ten minutes, Claire Grant. If you hurry, perhaps you’ll save the day yet again.”
Nusair ended the connection.
Claire shoved the phone into her jeans pocket and rushed toward the ferry.
She looked around the boat as she boarded. Then she saw him. The boy was bound to a support beam in the main seating area where the tourists lounged for their trips around Puget Sound.
Immediately she could sense that this time was totally different.
“Tell us what you see, Claire.”
She produced a shaky smile for the boy as she approached him. “You remember me, Chad? Miss Grant from school?”
He managed a jerky nod.
“You don’t need to be afraid now. Everything’s going to be okay.”
But it wasn’t.
Worry gnawed at her as she surveyed the situation.
It was no homemade explosive rig this time.
She crouched down in front of the boy and looked over and around the sophisticat
ed device. “It’s a sleek black box. About four by nine inches. Maybe two inches thick. The timer is built into the box. There’s just over seven minutes remaining.”
Lots more time than at the mall, but she had a bad feeling that it wouldn’t be nearly enough.
“Help me,” Chad whimpered. “I want my mom and dad.”
Claire squeezed his arm reassuringly. “We’ll get them on the way over here. Don’t you worry now. I’m going to fix this.”
Please, God, get me through this one more time.
Whatever it took, she would convince Nusair to take her and leave the children out of this.
She couldn’t bear to see another child go through this horror.
Then again, if she didn’t stop this timer, she wouldn’t be in a position to negotiate.
“Can you open the box?”
It was Bob Jackson. The explosives technician.
Claire placed her hands on the cool surface of the box, slid her fingers all the way around the edge. She attempted to pry it open at what looked like a seam where two pieces were sandwiched together.
It wouldn’t budge.
“I don’t think so.”
She tried to look behind it, but it was strapped around the boy’s torso with a wide strap that apparently latched inside the box itself. Whoever had made this, designed it for the purpose of ensuring it couldn’t be removed from its wearer.
But the box had to open. Somehow.
“Chad.”
His swollen, tear-filled eyes met hers.
“Did you watch them put this thing on you?”
He shook his head. “There was a bag over my head.”
She managed another, somewhat shakier smile. “Don’t worry, Chad. We’ll figure this out.”
Four minutes, fifty seconds.
“I don’t think I can get this off,” she admitted, hoping the boy wouldn’t pick up on the panic edging into her voice. “Even if I had scissors, I don’t think they’d cut through this strap.”
“Look around the ferry, Claire.”