the device back into the drawer and caught my breath. Then the door opened.”
Now Lucas looked a little mad. “I can’t believe you haven’t told me this during the three years we’ve known each other. What happened?”
Dropping her head to her hands, she muttered through her fingers, “I tried to forget it, Lucas.” Looking up, she added, “And it’s not like I didn’t want to tell you. I just didn’t want to relive it. I haven’t talked about it in four years. The only person I’ve had contact with is Justin. And it’s not like you’ve told me every last detail of your life, either.” He looked away and she knew she’d scored a direct hit. Hmm…he was hiding his own secrets. She refused to feel bad for not baring her soul. “Anyway, when the door opened, I knew I had to get rid of that card. If he caught me and decided to have me searched, I was dead.”
“Anna, that’s…”
“I know.” She waved him off. She couldn’t deal with the pain, the sympathy, the fear for her that he had written in his eyes. Reciting the details of that night wasn’t so difficult as long as she kept an emotional distance from it, as if she were talking about a past case that held nothing personal for her. But if he started showing concern, she’d lose what little control she had over her fear and her emotions. “I’ve been checking up on him, keeping tabs on the results of our sting, waiting to see if they ever found enough evidence to try him for murder, but just recently Justin said he’s on his way out. He told me they never found any other evidence on him and certainly nothing to indicate a murder ever happened.”
“So what happened when he opened the door to the office?”
“I had to get rid of the card. There was an umbrella stand right there by the desk, so I dropped it in there.”
“Did de Chastelain see you there at the house? Does he know you saw him holding the knife?”
She shook her head. “No way. I realized I’d be next if they knew what I’d seen. I was in shock at the way things had gone down, but thinking clearly. Someone opened the door only seconds after I replaced the BlackBerry into its hiding place. I pretended to be searching for something for one of the children, making a lot of noise, muttering to myself, acting like I was completely unaware of anything else but my search. If questioned, I would explain that I had just tucked the kids in. Andrew couldn’t sleep without his pacifier. The reality was I had one in my pocket. So, I pulled it out and tossed it into the corner near the desk.
“Anyway,” she continued as Lucas listened intently, “I knew my time to run was short. There were security cameras all over the house. What if one of them caught me standing outside that office door? I didn’t have to get the card. I could only hope the books would be enough for a search warrant, which would result in finding the card.”
“So, what did you do?”
“I grabbed the books, walked out the front door and took off. I went straight to my supervisor and told them what I saw, that my cover was blown. Because just as soon as de Chastelain checked his BlackBerry and discovered the missing card, I was toast. We threw together a team and got a search warrant, but by the time they raided the house, they found nothing. The card was gone, but de Chastelain was furious with me for turning over his books. I was under FBI protection when someone tried to kill me. Two agents assigned to protect me were killed, I escaped through a fluke, flew off to Brazil. End of story.” She didn’t bother telling him that she’d been shot coming out of the FBI headquarters and had gotten the rest of the story after she’d awakened from surgery. The words just wouldn’t come yet.
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, it’s all you’re going to get for now. I need to get going.”
“All right, let’s go.”
Everything about him shouted he was going with her whether she liked it or not. She didn’t, but could see she’d have no choice in the matter. Fine, he could come to the meeting…then she’d find a way to ditch him. For his own good.
Anna told Lucas she’d meet him at the car, but had to visit the ladies’ room first. Entering the restroom, she walked to the sink to stare at the mirror above it. The room was empty, echoing every sound she made. Her breathing sounded harsh in her ears while her blood thrummed through her veins and her heart beat in rhythm to the pounding in her head.
Dumping those memories in Lucas’s lap had felt…freeing somehow. And yet, at the same time, it brought even more clearly into focus her fears, and the turmoil she’d lived with for the past four years rumbled back to the surface, making her into a boiling pot of emotions. She’d needed a moment to get herself together before going to see Justin, because coming face-to-face with her former supervisor was going to bring back even more unpleasant memories. Memories she’d rather leave buried. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option.
Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly. Hearing the door whoosh open behind her, she scooted into a stall, not wanting to paste on a false smile or look anyone in the eye. Locking the door behind her, she leaned against it, still lost in fighting her reaction to the memories, the fear that wanted to surface and take over.
Footsteps sounded, stopping first in front of the row of sinks, then moving toward the stalls. Her senses tuned in and she stilled, zeroing in on the sound. The steps moved heavily, sounded clunky. Steps like a man might make. She froze, then turned sideways to peer through the crack. Broad shoulders, muscles, definitely a man. She caught a brief glimpse of dark pants, a white shirt. Hiking boots? Then the person entered the stall next to her. Wrong restroom or something more?
Anna shivered, swallowed hard as she acknowledged her only protection right now was a thin metal door. She hadn’t wished for a gun in four years. Today, she did. Why was she so nervous? No one knew she was here.
Adrenaline flowed freely as she pondered what to do. Should she call out? Speak? Call Lucas on her cell phone? Justin? Shifting her backpack, she set it on the back of the commode, keeping her eye on the crack in the stall.
Fingers fumbled for the phone.
Hard metal touched the back of her head. She froze. Dropped her purse. Heart pounding, fear exploding, she remembered the feel of a bullet piercing her stomach. The bullet hitting her was memory. The feel of the gun on her skull wasn’t. Gritting her teeth, she couldn’t do anything about the shaking as she forced the words from her mouth. “What do you want?”
“Go back to Brazil before you get hurt, little girl,” a voice rasped in a low whisper from up above. He’d be standing on the toilet, hanging over the wall separating the stalls. “Don’t bother calling the police. They won’t find me. This is your only warning.” With the nose of the gun, he shoved hard, knocking her off balance. Her leg hit the toilet bowl. She missed catching herself and landed on the floor—hard. The door beside her opened, then swung shut. Retreating footsteps, the main door whooshing, then silence—broken only by the sound of her harsh, hiccupping breathing.
Her mind screamed at her to get up and chase him. Don’t let him get away with this! But fear had her paralyzed. Nausea swirled. Fortunately she didn’t have to go far to lose what little she’d eaten that day.
Then she got mad. Mad at herself for caving in to the fear. Furious at her weakness but still shaking, she opened the stall door and stepped out. Whispering a prayer, she gathered every ounce of courage, strode to the main door and yanked it open. She looked up one hall, then down the other.
Nothing.
At
