Doom With a View

by Victoria Laurie

  “And where was that?” Candice asked him.

  “He said he liked to go to this place in the UP—”

  “The Upper Peninsula?”

  “Yeah,” Michael said. “And we were all, ‘Okay, dude, whatever, we gotta go,’ you know?”

  Candice nodded like she knew all too well. “Did you see him again?”

  “Well, yeah,” said Michael. “He followed us into the main conference room and sat near us during the committee meeting that Bianca’s dad was chairing, and then right in the middle of it he jumps up and makes this really big scene and was all pissed off and stuff. I told this all to the FBI last night.”

  “Could you describe him?”

  Michael looked impatient. “I already sat with that FBI sketch artist this morning. Do I really have to go over it again?”

  “Please,” she said, unwavering.

  Michael sighed. “He was tall, like, six-one or six-two. He had weird teeth, like they were all jacked up and stuff. And he had this kinda creepy way of looking at you, like he could see inside your soul or something.”

  “What color was his hair?”

  “I dunno. Maybe gray. He didn’t have a lot of it—he was kind of bald.”

  “Did you see him again after he was escorted out of the building?”

  “No.”

  “And what did the other three think of him?”

  “They were sort of freaked-out at first, but then they thought it was funny,” Michael said, scratching his cheek, then crossing his arms again. “I was the only one that thought he was totally creepy.”

  Again I checked all that Michael said against my radar, and nothing he’d said seemed fabricated, but there was something I felt I was missing with him—almost like we were asking him the wrong questions, but at the moment I was concentrating too hard on the interview to consider what other questions to ask him.

  “I noticed that there’s no security detail nearby,” Candice said casually, glancing toward the front entrance.

  “Yeah, my dad said I didn’t need one. He said he’d be home in the morning and he’d keep an eye on me.”

  “Your father is a busy man,” Candice reasoned. “Why wouldn’t he want to ensure that his son was safe while he was otherwise occupied?”

  Michael dug his hands into his pockets and his face reddened again. “He doesn’t like strangers in the house,” he said softly. “And he thought that having the FBI parked in his driveway might make the press curious. They’re not really nice to him, you know. They make up crap about my family all the time.”

  Candice looked at him with sympathy. “So I’ve heard,” she said. “Still, it concerns me that you’re on your own here.”

  “We have an alarm,” Michael said, pointing to the wall where an alarm panel was installed. “And I’m being really careful on my way to and from class.”

  “Has the FBI told you about what’s happened to your three friends?” Candice said carefully.

  Michael paled. “No,” he said after a moment. “They just said that they wanted to check out all the kids my age who attended the conference. When my dad asked why, they said it was because they believed someone might be thinking of kidnapping someone’s kid.”

  “Ah,” Candice said, and I knew immediately why the FBI would say that. It was because they didn’t want to start a panic among powerful people before they knew what they were up against.

  Michael looked at Candice earnestly. “What’s happened to them?” he asked, his voice cracking.

  “They’ve gone missing,” she said, and I thought, So much for protocol. But just then my radar began to hum and a small chill seemed to travel up my spine.

  Michael seemed to be having a similar reaction, because his breathing intensified. “Oh, man,” he said, and I knew he was now frightened. His eyes seemed to widen and sweat appeared on his forehead. “That’s bad, right?”

  “It is,” said Candice. “Which is all the more reason why you should talk to your dad about letting the FBI assign you a security detail.”

  And just as she finished that sentence, the chill up my spine intensified and something hit my intuition like a lightning bolt. In my mind’s eye I saw a small poster with Michael’s picture and the word MISSING as a caption. The image was so intense that I took a step backward, gasping as my hand flew to my heart.

  Candice’s head snapped over to me and I stared at her in alarm. Michael too seemed to notice my sudden change in demeanor, because he asked, “What’s wrong with her?”

  “Nothing,” I said in a shaky voice before turning to Michael. “Can I use your restroom?” I asked.

  He seemed surprised by my request, but he motioned up the steps. “At the top of the stairs,” he said.

  “Thank you,” I said, and bolted. When I’d crested the landing, I went straight into the bathroom and shut the door and sat on the side of the bathtub for a minute trying to take deep breaths. I was used to seeing things that caused me some alarm, but something about the intensity of the vision I’d had downstairs was throwing me. It wasn’t just the imagery; it was the level of panic associated with it. My heart was still beating very rapidly. Quickly I pulled my cell phone out of my purse and called Dutch. I got his voice mail and left him a message to call me immediately, then hung up and went to the sink to run some cool water over a clean washcloth to pat my cheeks with. After a minute I felt better and moved to leave.

  When I pulled the door open, I was shocked to see Candice standing there with her hand raised as if she was about to knock. “You okay?” she asked me.

  I looked around for Michael. He wasn’t in sight. “I need to talk to Dutch,” I whispered.

  “What’s up?”

  “Michael’s in serious trouble and I don’t care what his father says. He needs a security detail assigned pronto.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Positive,” I said, feeling a little shaky again as another wave of emotion hit me. “I think our killer is about to go after him.”

  “What did you see?” she pressed.

  “A poster with his picture on it and the word ‘Miss ing’ for a caption.”

  “Shit!”

  “I know. Maybe we should keep an eye on him until I can talk to Dutch and he gets an agent assigned.”

  Candice grabbed my hand and yanked me toward the stairs. “Come on!” she said.

  I stumbled after her. “What’s the matter?”

  “Michael left a few minutes ago. He said he didn’t want to be late for class and he took off.”

  “He left?” I gasped as we dashed down the stairs.

  Candice glanced at me. “He even punched in the alarm code right in front of me,” she said with a mirthless laugh. “Jesus, the kid’s so trusting anyone could nab him!”

  “We’ve got to catch up to him, Candice!”

  “I know,” she said as we reached the bottom of the steps, and Candice moved to the alarm panel, which had a green flashing button like it was in a standby mode. Candice pushed a button on the panel labeled ARMED before she tugged me down a hallway and through the kitchen. “He told me to hit the Armed button and go out through here,” she said, pulling open a side door that opened to the garage. Punching the button to the side of the light switch made the garage door creak slowly up. We hurried toward the opening and ducked under the slow-moving door. Candice then pulled up the lid on a side panel mounted on the wall next to the garage, and hit another button, which made the door pause, then creak its way closed again. “Hurry!” she commanded as we dashed toward her car.

  I ran to the passenger side and got into the cab fast. There was no question about who would be behind the wheel; Candice didn’t have any qualms about driving like a maniac to make up time.

  She started the engine and before I even had a chance to pull the seat belt across me, we were rocketing out of the driveway. Tires squealed as she cut the corner and pushed down hard on the accelerator. We wound our way through side streets and I tried not to watch. I also tr
ied not to get carsick.

  As we neared campus, she commanded,“Look out on your side for his Jeep!” I did, but it was nowhere to be seen. I even opened up my radar, hoping it would guide me in his general direction, but no information came.

  Arriving at Michael’s dorm, Candice parked illegally next to a fire hydrant and reached across me to her bag. “I’ve got his schedule in there,” she said. “We’ll go to his class and keep him in sight until you can talk to Dutch and get someone else down here to babysit.”

  As if on cue, my cell phone rang. Caller ID said it was the FBI. “Dutch!” I gasped in relief.

  “No,” said a hard voice. “It’s Agent Harrison.”

  That brought me up short. I’d been so intent on hearing from Dutch that for a minute I couldn’t make any sense of why Harrison was on my phone.

  “Tell him that Derby’s next class is at Williams Hall, across from the student union!” Candice shouted as her fingers flew over a map of the campus.

  My alarm increased. I knew Harrison had heard her very clearly—especially as the silence on his end continued for a beat or two. “Hold on,” he said, his voice like ice. “Where are you right now, Ms. Cooper?”

  “What’s he saying?” Candice asked, but didn’t wait for my reply. Instead she grabbed the phone right out of my stunned hand. “Dutch, it’s Candice. Listen, we need you to get a security detail on the Derby kid ASAP. Abby’s had a vision that he’s about to be abducted. We’re on his tail until you can get an agent assigned. Just tell him to meet us outside Derby’s classroom in Williams Hall on the University of Chicago campus.”

  I was frozen in my seat as I stared at her in horror. She gave me a quick quizzical look and all of a sudden the phone seemed to erupt with noise. Candice immediately pulled it away from her ear and then her eyes also grew wide. Reflexively she hit the End button and dropped the phone in my lap. “Oh, shit!” she said.

  “Yep,” I agreed. “It has just hit the fan.”

  Chapter Eleven

  I picked the phone up immediately and hit the speed dial, whispering, “Pick up! Pick up! Come on, Dutch, pick up!”

  “Hey, sweethot,” he sang on the third ring.

  “Ohmigod!” I squealed into his ear. “Dutch, you have to listen to me! It wasn’t my fault! Candice thought it was you, but it wasn’t, and she just sort of blurted out where we were, but I swear on my life she didn’t mean to! It’s not her fault! You can’t blame her! I am sooooo sorry!”

  “Abs,” Dutch said calmly, but I continued to beg forgiveness. “Abby!” he nearly shouted, and I calmed down. “I can’t understand what you’re saying. Just take a deep breath and tell me what’s wrong.”

  There was a small click in my ear and I knew that Dutch’s call-waiting had just signaled. I gasped and shouted, “Do not answer that!”

  “It’s Harrison,” he said, and I could hear the confusion in his voice before I sensed that he suddenly caught up to why I was so panicked. “Oh, shit!” he said, echoing Candice’s sentiment.

  “Dutch, I swear it was a total accident!”

  “Does he know where you are?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does he know what you’re doing where you are?”

  “Yes.”

  There was a pause, then, “I’ll call you back.” And with that, he hung up and I leaned forward and banged my head a few times against the dash.

  “Abby,” Candice said gently, but I kept banging. “Hey,” she insisted, grabbing my shoulder to prevent another whack. “We’ve gotta get to Michael, remember?”

  “He’s going to get fired,” I moaned.

  She smiled. “It’s not his fault,” she reasoned, coaxing me out of the car. “We’re mavericks, right? Harrison isn’t going to blame him for something he had no knowledge of.”

  I hurried after Candice, my head aching from the pounding I’d just given it and my stomach clenched when I thought about what Dutch must be going through. I felt so bad! If only I’d said something when I realized it was Harrison, like, “Hey there, Agent Harrison! So good of you to call!” If only I had been able to think!

  “Come on, honey,” Candice urged, grabbing my arm again as I fell behind. “That’s the hall where Derby’s class is. Let’s just make sure he’s there. Then we can call Dutch back and tell him what’s what.” I moaned again and Candice added, “And I can apologize and offer to call Harrison myself to explain, okay?”

  Her suggestion made me feel a little better, so I kept up with her as we jogged the last hundred yards and hurried up the steps. Candice kept an eye on the doors of the classrooms, looking for a particular number. She hurried past room 112 to 114 and announced, “This is the one.” Without further delay she knocked on the door and opened it, revealing a class of about twelve students all eyeing us curiously. An old man in a bow tie standing in front of the chalkboard asked, “Yes?”

  “I’m looking for Michael Derby,” she said, still huff ing a little from our run. My eyes scanned the students. With a jolt I realized I didn’t see Michael among the faces.

  “He is not here,” said the professor.

  Candice looked taken aback. “Oh,” she said, “I’m sorry. I thought this was his classroom.”

  “It is,” said the professor. “But Michael has not made it to class today.” Candice looked at her watch. I could see from my view that it was ten minutes after two. “Class starts at two, correct?”

  “It does,” said the professor impatiently. “And if you will allow me to get back to my lesson, it will now continue.”

  “Sorry!” Candice said, and she shut the door.

  “He might be running late,” I offered as I noticed her look at her watch again. “Maybe he stopped to get gas, or something to eat,” I added, but I had the most terrible sinking feeling.

  Candice nodded and stepped back out to the hallway to eye it up and down. “I should have asked for his cell phone number,” she muttered.

  “He’ll show up,” I said anxiously, pacing in front of the classroom as my left side felt thick and heavy.

  Candice shook her head ruefully. “Damn it!” she swore. “Come on, Michael, don’t do this.”

  I glanced again at my cell phone and made a decision. I flipped through the most recent call list and hit Send. The line was answered almost immediately. “I ought to throw both you in jail for interfering in a federal investigation against my express order!” Harrison roared.

  “Yes, sir,” I said as calmly as I could.“And I wouldn’t blame you if you did. However, sir, there is an issue that demands your immediate attention. And if after I tell you what that is, you still want to haul us to jail, then we will go quietly and cooperatively.”

  Harrison appeared surprised by my proposal because it was a moment before he said anything. Finally, though, he barked “What?” so loudly I winced.

  “Michael Derby did not show up for class, sir. He is currently MIA.”

  “Where’s his security detail?” Harrison barked again.

  “His father refused them, sir. When Candice and I went to talk to Michael, we discovered him alone and heading to class. We attempted to trail him, sir, but we lost him shortly after he left his home. So we came here to campus in search of him, but his class started over fifteen minutes ago and there’s been no sign of him.”

  There was a very long pause and for a minute I thought I’d lost Harrison. But then, just as I was about to call out to him, I heard him say, “Stay put. Do not move. Watch out for Derby, and if he shows up, call me immediately.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said meekly, and the line went dead.

  I tucked my cell back into my purse and looked up to meet Candice’s eyes. “Are we going to jail, Abs?”

  I sighed. “Not sure. Could go either way.”

  “What’d Harrison say?”

  “He said to stay put.”

  Candice nodded and then took to impatiently pacing the hallway.

  Time ticked slowly by, both of us watching for Derby. As Candice and
I watched the hallway for any sign of either Michael or the FBI, my radar gave me a hint.

  “Hey,” I said to my partner to grab her attention away from peering earnestly down the hallway.

  “What’s up?”

  “I’m not sure, but I keep getting a strong hit off of the Derby house.”

  Candice’s brow furrowed. “You think Michael might be there?”

  My left side felt heavy. “No,” I said, scratching my head. “But for some reason I feel like there’s something there. Something we might have overlooked.”

  Candice considered that for a minute. “The kid was awfully fidgety,” she agreed. “And scared.”

  “Maybe he was just being cautious.”

  “You think he knew something?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I think someone or something had him running scared.”

  Candice sighed and rubbed her neck. “If someone grabbed him while we weren’t looking, I’ll never forgive myself.”

  “We don’t know that he’s been abducted,” I cautioned, but then the poster in my head flashed again and I felt a tremendous sense of dread.

  “What?” she asked me, and I knew she’d caught the worried look on my face.

  “I don’t have a great feeling,” I admitted.

  Candice frowned. “Damn it!” she swore, and went back to pacing.

  Finally, at ten minutes to, and when we began to see students emerging from other classrooms, Candice stepped to the door of Derby’s class and opened it. “Sorry to interrupt again,” she said to the room. “But does anyone happen to have Michael Derby’s cell phone number? It’s a matter of extreme urgency.”

  One student in the back row raised his hand. “I’ve got it.”

  The professor glared hard at Candice and threw up his arms. “In light of all these interruptions, I suppose we will end class on that note,” he snapped, and he began stuffing his briefcase with his notes. “Mr. Jackson, please give the woman Michael’s number so that she will stop interrupting classes!”

  Jackson stepped forward sheepishly and scrolled through his cell phone’s directory. Pivoting the screen around, he showed it to Candice, who hurriedly punched the numbers into her own phone. “Thanks,” she said before putting her cell up to her ear and walking back out into the hallway. After several anxious beats she grimaced and shook her head, then said, “Hi, Michael, it’s Candice Fusco. We talked at your home a little while ago, and there was just one more question I needed to ask you. Could you please call me back at this number as soon as possible? It’s really important. I absolutely, positively need to hear from you the moment you get this message.”