Shadow of Betrayal

For another couple of seconds she remained where she was, then her resolve crumbled and she moved forward.

Behind her was Iris.

Nate reached out to her. “Hey, sweetie. Come here.”

The girl didn’t move, so Nate leaned in and picked her up.

“Got her,” he said to Quinn.

“You can’t take her,” Ms. Stanton said.

“I want you to listen to what I’m going to say very carefully. The man who brought this girl to your school today also brought several others. Correct?”

Ms. Stanton nodded. “Mr. Lee came up from Ventura.”

“Mr. Lee?”

“That’s who you’re talking about, right?”

“Mr. Lee isn’t who he said he is.” Quinn paused. “He came here for one reason, to kill you and your special guests this morning.”

“What?”

“Those bombs that went off outside? There’s more, only here in the school.”

“Impossible,” she said, though she looked terrified that it might be true.

“He brought juice boxes along with the children, didn’t he?”

“Sure. Everyone did.”

“Well, there isn’t juice inside his. I’m guessing the ones he brought are in the auditorium right now, just waiting to go off. Get everyone away from them, then tell one of the agents.”

“My God,” Ms. Stanton said.

“Do you understand?” Quinn asked.

A pause, then, “Yes.”

“Good.” Quinn looked at Nate. “Let’s go.”

“You can’t… just kidnap her,” Ms. Stanton said, much of her defensive posturing gone.

“She and the others he brought were already kidnapped.” He turned and started heading for a doorway at the far end of the hallway.

“Then where are you taking her?” Ms. Stanton called out.

Quinn stopped a few feet from the exit and looked back over his shoulder. “To her mother.”

Tucker knew he had few immediate options. Because of all the Secret Service and the inevitable security check, he’d gone to the school without a gun.

He thought about the last thing he’d seen when he’d looked over his shoulder. There had been only the two on his side of the street: the teenager and the woman. He had thought they’d been nobodies, but it looked like he’d been mistaken. The woman must have been Secret Service. She’d been dressed in street clothes, working undercover in the crowd. That had to be it.

His brow furrowed. He’d been so caught up in trying to figure out how to get out of this, he hadn’t even considered why the agent had been chasing him in the first place. Tucker had been just one of hundreds running through the streets. And as far as anyone should have been able to tell, he’d done nothing wrong.

Behind him, he could hear the woman stepping closer.

“Open the back door,” she said.

“Sure,” Tucker said. “No problem.”

He took a step toward the rear of the car and opened the back passenger door.

“Now get behind the wheel,” she said. “And shut the door once you’re inside.”

Tucker hesitated. A Secret Service agent would have had him get on the ground, like they’d tried to get Quinn to do back at the school. If she wasn’t Secret Service, then who the hell—

“Do it!” she said.

He moved back to the driver’s door. As he slipped into the front seat, he could hear her get in behind him, then the thunk of her door closing just before he closed his own. He started to reach down for the seat release so he could fall back into her.

“Don’t,” she said. It wouldn’t have worked anyway. She’d already slid all the way across so that she was sitting diagonal from him.

He put both of his hands on his lap, wishing he’d requested a gun be left under his seat. But he hadn’t thought he would need one at this point, and the last thing he had wanted was for the police to find it at one of the roadblock searches that were sure to go up soon.

“So are we going anywhere, or are we just staying here?” he asked.

“No, Mr. Tucker. We’re not going anywhere.”

The back of his neck began to tingle. How did she know his name?

“Then … what are we going to do? You want some information? You need some names, is that it? We can make a deal. You promise to let me go, I’ll tell you whatever you want.”

“No,” she said. “No deal this time. This time I’m going to kill you.”

He turned so he could see who she was, unable to stop himself.

It wasn’t the woman he’d seen running behind him. It was the smaller one, the one he’d thought was a teenager. Only she wasn’t a teenager.

“Remember me?” she asked.

“You’re Quinn’s bitch.” He paused, thinking. “Orlando.”

The small Asian woman smiled. “Good. So I don’t have to explain to you why you’re never going to get out of this car.”

No, she didn’t, he thought. He would have been out for blood, too, if he had run across the person who had once kidnapped his child. That was if he’d had any. He glanced past her, through the back window, hoping to see Petersen.

“No one’s coming,” she said.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

“Your friend,” she told him. “The big guy? He ran into a car back there. Don’t think he’s going to be up and around for a while.”

So he was on his own. Fine, he thought. His left hand drifted toward the door handle.

“We had a deal,” he said.