Free Staying Alive by Debra Webb

and unsettling somehow. She wanted to ask questions, but she couldn’t seem to find her own voice. She should ask questions, but she couldn’t bring herself to string the words together much less utter anything sensible.
    Besides, as long as she didn’t know the real story, she could pretend anything.
    When they boarded the glamorous elevator, Claire thought of the movies and television shows she’d seen where witnesses were taken into protective custody. Not once had she seen a single one provided with accommodations quite this opulent. But then, why else would she and Darlene bebrought to a hotel? Atwood had said they were being taken to a safe place. This must be it.
    If Nusair had located her telephone number, which wouldn’t have been a problem for him or anyone else since she was listed in the telephone directory, it was a given that he would just as easily find her home.
    Did this mean she couldn’t go back home until Nusair was captured?
    That could be… never .
    What about her job…her meticulously planted flowers…her new, carefully constructed life?
    The elevator stopped on the fourteenth floor.
    One of their escorts stepped out of the car and waited for Claire and Darlene to do the same. Strangely, the other man remained on the elevator.
    Their guide led them to room 1427. He knocked and a few seconds later the door opened. He motioned for Claire and Darlene to precede him into the room.
    Once they were inside, the door closed and the lock was engaged. Claire turned back to the door but the man who had driven them to this location had not come into the room behind them.
    Her pulse hitched. What was going on here? This was all entirely too clandestine for comfort.
    “Miss Grant, you and Miss Vernon should make yourselves comfortable.”
    Claire looked from Darlene to the man who’d spoken. Another suit and tie, same expensive taste. He gestured to the sitting area near what was likely a wall of windows overlooking greater Seattle, but the heavy drapes were drawn closed.
    Grabbing her friend by the arm, Claire led the way. When they’d taken seats and the man who’d asked them to do so had moved into one of the adjoining rooms, Claire leaned close to Darlene. “Who do you think these people are? More cops?”
    “I don’t know. FBI maybe?”
    Claire glanced around the room. A door on each side led to what she presumed to be bedrooms. A two-bedroom suite possibly. The generous seating arrangement was part of a parlor that consisted of an area with a round table and six chairs, a desk, a small fridge and a sink. The handsomely upholstered furnishings were elegant, the decor richly appointed.
    Not exactly your typical hotel room.
    If she listened carefully she could hear low voices in the room to her left. Three or more people, she decided after eavesdropping for several more moments. A meeting or conference call.
    The man who’d directed them to be seated entered the room once more. “Miss Grant, I’ll need you to come with me, please.”
    Her pulse racing, Claire stood. Darlene did the same.
    “Miss Vernon, I’ll have to ask you to remain here until Miss Grant has completed her briefing.”
    Darlene started to argue but Claire stopped her. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine.” A briefing she could handle. A briefing meant information. She needed information. She wanted to know what the heck was going on.
    Darlene didn’t like it, but she relented.
    Claire turned to the man who’d given the orders and took a deep breath.
    With a hand at her elbow, he steered her into the adjoining room on the right. To Claire’s surprise what should have been a bedroom had been transformed into a conference room. A long mahogany table with royal-blue upholstered chairs lining all sides dominated the center of the space. Against the wall were credenza-type tables with everything from copiers and fax machines to stacks of files and other office equipment not readily identifiable but ready for use.
    “Have a seat,