Playing Dead

THIRTY-EIGHT

Though Claire had told Bill and Dave that she didn’t mind them bringing the rest of the gang, she felt overwhelmed within ten minutes, even though Manny was with Jill, who was at the hospital in labor.

Bill sensed her distress. He eased her out of the kitchen where the three cops were dishing up take-out Italian, and sat her in the living room. “One hour, kiddo. You look tired.”

She smiled. “It’s okay. I tried to sleep, but couldn’t. Dad was supposed to go into surgery at eight last night, but the surgeon was concerned about some test results, so they ran more tests and took more X-rays and didn’t even start until three this morning. And he’s still there. It shouldn’t take this long, should it? What if-”

Bill squeezed her hand. “Don’t do that. He’s still in surgery and that’s positive. Trust the doctors.”

Claire just wanted her dad back, her life settled. “I hate not being there. I talked to Nelia this morning, and she’s worried, but I think my pacing made her nervous.”

“Are you sure you don’t want us to get out of here? We’ll leave the food and let you-”

“I want you to stay.” She kissed him on the cheek.

Dave came in. “Do you want me to serve you up?” he asked Claire.

“I’ll eat in the kitchen,” she said, standing.

“There’s plenty,” Dave told Agent Warren. “Help yourself.”

“Save me some,” he said. “Though a cold soda would be good.”

“I’ll get it.”

Phil said, “I got it, Dave. Grab the bread out of the warmer.”

Claire walked into the kitchen and saw the spread-and the accompanying mess. “I’ll clean up,” Dave assured her.

“You’d better,” she said and smiled. Even though she’d have preferred to be alone, all she’d been doing this morning was sulking and worrying about her father’s surgery. That was hardly working to prove her father’s innocence. Though Agent Elliott told her that they were taking her father’s claims seriously, as well as following up on everything Claire had uncovered, Claire wasn’t there to know herself. She was tired, but she couldn’t sleep if she tried.

“Thanks for coming by,” she told Dave quietly.

He rubbed her shoulder. “I love you, kid.”

Claire didn’t feel much like eating, but to appease Dave and Bill, she ate a small plate of spaghetti. Agent Warren took his soda and stood guard, leaving her alone with her friends. She wondered what Mitch was doing. Following up on information? Leads? Was he interviewing Collier yet? She wished she could go down to FBI headquarters and find out exactly what was going on. The waiting game was going to kill her.

She excused herself and made a call. SSA Megan Elliott had given her a private number, and Claire didn’t feel guilty about using it.

“Elliott.”

“Agent Elliott, this is Claire O’Brien.”

“Is something wrong?”

“No. But I wanted to know what was going on. No one has called, I don’t know if you have Collier, or what happened to Lora Lane, or if-”

“Okay,” the Fed interrupted. “I get it. I hate being out of the loop as well, but right now I can’t give you the information you want.”

“But-”

“We’re swamped. I have a dead judge, Collier in custody but not talking, and the media has set up shop outside the building.”

“Judge?” Claire remembered the news report, and it clicked. “Judge Drake-he’s the one who arraigned Frank Lowe. Detective Abrahamson told me yesterday he was most likely to know the details of any plea agreement between Lowe and the D.A.’s office.”

Agent Elliott asked quickly, “Did you say Drake? Judge Hamilton Drake?”

“Yes.”

“I have to go.”

“Why is that important?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Will you keep me in the loop? Please?” Claire hated to beg, but she didn’t want to make Megan Elliott so mad she wouldn’t keep her informed.

“As much as I can, I will.”

“I guess I’ll take it.”

“Thanks, Claire. If you want a recommendation to Quantico, let me know.”

She laughed. The first laugh in far too long. “Thanks, but I like working for Rogan-Caruso.”

“I can imagine.” She hung up.

Claire felt better knowing that the FBI was working the case hard. The truth would come out. It had to.

Yawning, she returned to the living room. The guys were all sitting around, relaxing. She sat on the couch next to Bill. “Eat too much?”

“I didn’t think so, but I sure feel like it.” He put an arm around her. “You holding up?”

“Yeah. I just talked to Agent Elliott and I know they’re on top of things. It’s just I wish I was there. I hate not doing anything.”

“You’ve already done more than enough,” Bill said. “If not for you, I don’t think they’d have half the info they have.”

“Maybe not,” she said. “I don’t know.” She yawned again.

“Claire, go ahead and go to bed. You’ve had a rough night.”

“Thought you guys were going to clean up?” she teased Dave.

“Phil’s doing the dishes,” Dave said. “He drew the short straw.”

She leaned her head against Bill’s shoulder and closed her eyes. “I’m so glad I have my dad back, Bill. But you will always be special to me. I wouldn’t have survived those years without you and Dave.” She felt herself drifting off. Bill didn’t say anything. She tried to open her eyes, but they felt thick.

“Claire?”

She heard a voice. Agent Warren? She thought she’d spoken out loud, but her tongue felt thick. A sliver of fear ran up her spine when she heard a heavy thud.

Then she heard nothing.

Mitch was the bad cop and he was irritated enough to play the role to a T.

Don Collier, the bastard, was saying nothing. He’d requested a damn lawyer who still hadn’t shown, and Mitch wanted to smash the defense-attorney-turned-law-professor’s smug face.

“We should let him go,” Hans said.

Mitch didn’t know what Hans had planned, and his initial reaction was to curse. He trusted Hans enough to follow through on the lead-in. “Shit, Vigo, what are you thinking?”

A faint nod told him that Hans had a plan and Mitch was on track.

“We really don’t have enough to keep him. Keep his passport, by all means, but let him go home.”

“I’d rather keep him behind bars,” Mitch said. “Lose him in the system.”

Collier wanted to say something, Mitch saw his jaw working, but he kept his mouth shut.

“Mitch, I’ve told you before that you’re going to keep going up before the OPR every time you let your temper run the investigation.” Hans stood, tapped on the window, and Meg came in. “Is the media still out front?”

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “Right outside the gate. I can’t get rid of them.”

“Is there a back door where Mr. Collier can leave?”

“Sure, but they’re lining that street as well.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter. Why don’t you make a statement that Professor Collier isn’t under arrest, that he’s only wanted for questioning. I’m sure that will alleviate his mind. He’s probably worried about his position and tenure. I don’t want him to fear his job security because of this situation, especially if nothing comes of it.”

“No problem, I’ll write up a statement and have the SAC read it-”

“No!” Collier pounded his fist on the table.

Hans turned to him. “Mr. Collier, I don’t want to waste your time or mine. We can bring you in for a formal interview Monday morning. We simply want to make sure you can’t leave the country, until we find the answers we need.”

“Just-I’ll wait for my attorney. I want to get this over with.”

“So do we,” Hans said. “But your attorney is late.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s one o’clock on a beautiful Saturday afternoon. No one wants to be here.”

“I know what you’re doing,” Collier said. “You’re trying to get me killed.”

Mitch stared at him. “Give me a fucking break.”

“You want me to lead you to who killed Oliver? I had nothing to do with that, I had nothing to do with anything, and I’m not going to let you get me killed.”

Hans sat down. “I’m in a position to offer you immunity, Mr. Collier.”

“You’re not an attorney. You can offer me nothing.”

“I have a lot more clout than you might think. I’m not simply a babysitter transporting criminals cross-country.”

“I’m not a criminal,” Collier said. “I’ll stay here until my attorney arrives. And I’m going to sue you for false arrest, transport across country without my permission, and harassment.”

Mitch’s phone beeped and he frowned. He looked at the message. It was from Grant.

We found the S550. Registered to Chad Harper, we’re at his residence. He lives in a guest house on the property of Richard and Tiffany Mancini. He’s dead as well as the Mancinis. Call me ASAP.

Tom tried to open his eyes, but everything was too bright. His whole body felt bruised and heavy, but he wasn’t in any acute pain.

“Tom?”

Nelia was still here. “Umm,” he moaned.

“Thank God.”

He felt something warm touching his hand. Was Nelia holding his hand? He couldn’t tell. But he was alive.

“Claire came by early this morning,” Nelia said.

She’d looked so tired last night, but she’d come to him. His daughter believed in him. He had her back. The overwhelming relief and joy settled his soul like nothing else could.

“Am I-” Every word was a chore.

“Shh, don’t talk. Now that you’re awake, you’re going to be fine. Better than fine. The surgery lasted over eleven hours, but they got the bullet out and repaired the damage. You just need time to heal.”

Time. Did he have time?

“I know what you’re thinking,” Nelia whispered close to his ear. “You’re safe here. You’re safe with me. I will do everything in my power to make sure you are cleared. Claire is working on it. The FBI believed you yesterday, they are following up on what you told them and everything Claire learned. Agent Elliott and Agent Bianchi both came by to check on you. They have a man on the door, but I think it’s more as protection for you at this point.”

“Good.” It was all he could say. Except, “Love you.”

“I love you, Tom. We’re going to get through this. You, me, Claire, all of us. There’s no one who deserves peace more than you.”

“Call Claire.”

“And tell her you’re awake?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll do it as soon as I find a nurse.”