Keep Her Safe(97)

How many of them did Mantis scare into not talking?

We don’t have a list of contacts to track them down. Kristian’s right—we don’t have much.

From the corner of my eye, I catch a curtain shift in Room 201. It’s the last room in Building Two, the room that sits kitty-corner to 116. A wiry old man stands in the window, his skin a dark chocolate, his hair frizzy and going gray at the tips. He’s wearing brown trousers and a rumpled button-down shirt that hangs open to reveal the dirt-smeared white tank top beneath, and he’s simply standing there.

Staring intently at me, not a flicker of a twitch, or a smile. He could pass for a mannequin.

A chill runs down my spine.

“Come on, let’s go,” Noah calls out. “That was the pool-cleaning guy. Cyclops decided he’s a guard dog now and tried to bite him. He said he’d come back later this afternoon as long as we get Cy inside.”

I glance back at the window of Room 201.

The man is gone.





CHAPTER 41


Noah

I stretch my cramped hands as I check the clock on the wall of the small room, empty save for a table and two chairs. Giving my statement took over two hours. “Can I go?”

“Yes, sir. Miss Richards is waiting for you,” Agent Proby says.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Uh-huh.” I get a tight smile in return from the middle-aged blonde woman.

Gracie greets me in the hallway with a wide smile, and my feet falter. She’s happy and hopeful, and I get it. Finally, someone—and not just someone, but the FBI—is working to clear Abe’s name.

I smile back, even with this ever-looming dread that hangs over me. Because the flip side to all this is that it may not be all sunshine and roses for my family. I still don’t know how my mother was involved in what happened to Abe, though—thankfully—she wasn’t part of this Canning-picked investigation team. And Silas . . . I’m beginning to wonder what exactly he knows.

Gracie’s smile wavers. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m famished. Let’s get the hell out of here.” Roping a loose arm around her waist, I pull her to me. We begin walking down the hall.

Agent Proby trails behind to escort us out. “Agent Klein will be in contact with you if he needs clarification,” she says, nodding to the guard.

I let Gracie go ahead of me through security.

She comes to an abrupt stop, and I bump into her. “What’s—” My words cut off as I see the problem—Dwayne Mantis is standing on the other side.

My adrenaline instantly begins racing through my veins.

He hasn’t noticed us yet, his head down, busy checking his gun and other belongings with the guard. An older, bearded man in a gray suit stands next to him, and two other men trail closely behind. One of them looks vaguely familiar, though I can’t place him.

Gracie’s body has gone rigid.

I drop my voice to a whisper, settling my hand gently on her hip. “Let’s slide out of here before—”

“Mr. Mantis!” Klein exclaims from behind us, pulling Mantis’s attention up.

Those beady eyes flicker past us, searching for the source of the voice, but quickly fly back to lock on Gracie.

“Thank you for coming in on short notice.” Klein grins as if completely oblivious to the choking tension in the lobby.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Klein, he’s anything but oblivious. The bastard timed this perfectly. He wants to unsettle Mantis and, unfortunately, he doesn’t care what it does to us in the process.

Finally, Mantis peels that fierce gaze away from Gracie. “Anything to help the feds with a case,” he says calmly.

Klein nods to the man in the suit. “And you are . . .”

“My lawyer, Sid DeHavelin,” Mantis answers for him.

“Lawyer?” Klein mock-frowns. “To answer questions about an old case? Why would you think you need a lawyer?”

Mantis grins, showing off a row of perfectly straight, albeit stubby teeth. “Sid insisted.”

“Alright. I mean, it’s your dime, but waste of money if you ask me. Mr. Stapley, I’m guessing he’s here to waste your money too?” Klein says to the man towering behind Mantis.

Klein is questioning Shawn Stapley, too.

Gracie and I exchange glances.

What pretenses did they come in on, I wonder.

Klein throws a casual wave to us. “Hey, thanks for the help, kids. It’s a wonder what you can dig up, even after all these years, isn’t it? We’ll be in touch soon.”

The prick. He’s toying with them. If it weren’t at the risk of Gracie’s safety, I’d applaud him. I want to punch him in the face again. I settle for spearing him with a glare instead.

He ignores it, holding an arm out in invitation.

Mantis and Stapley pass through the metal detectors with their lawyers close behind.

Klein frowns at Stapley. “You okay, man?”

“Yeah, why?” Stapley’s voice is so smooth and melodious next to Mantis’s. And it’s filled with wariness.

“That looks like blood.” Klein nods toward Stapley’s leg, where a dark spot seeps through his khaki pants at his calf.

“Oh, that.” He brushes it off with a dismissive wave and a chuckle. “Got into a fight with a garden rake in the shed. It won.”