Free Staying Alive by Debra Webb Page A

Miss Grant, the team will be with you in a moment.”
    The team? She pivoted to ask what that meant but the man who’d ushered her into the room walked out before she could manage the question, pulling the double doors closed as he went.
    Sitting wasn’t an option. She wanted to knowwhy she was here and who these people were. FBI? Homeland Security? Maybe CIA. Who knew?
    Claire walked straight over to the stacks of files and surveyed the mounds of paperwork and the gray folders. Her breath caught in her throat as she recognized the Federal Bureau of Investigation emblem on the letterhead of one page.
    It was the FBI. Darlene had guessed right.
    Made sense, she supposed. But why did they want to talk to her here?
    They could have questioned her at the police precinct or the bureau field office.
    Why the elaborate setup? The secretiveness?
    Claire Grant, you will die for your transgression. Over and over again.
    A chill ran through her, making her wish she’d grabbed a jacket. This was about him. The idea that she had been ushered over here immediately after that call couldn’t be coincidence.
    Even she wasn’t that naive.
    Did that mean…?
    The doors flew open drawing her attention to the other side of the room.
    A man, another she hadn’t seen before, followed by an entourage, strode purposefully toward her. The leader of the group wore the same uniform as the others, suit and tie. He was tall, broad shouldered and carried himself with an air of importance.He had the most unusual green eyes. It was impossible not to notice. Classic good looks and that air of importance one saw in high-profile politicians.
    “Miss Grant, I’m Special Agent in Charge Luke Krueger.” He indicated the long mahogany table with a sweep of his right hand. “Please join me at the conference table.”
    The man’s deep, authoritative tone made Claire uneasy somehow, but she pulled out the closest chair and sat down. Cooperation was likely the key to learning as much information as possible.
    Krueger strode to the opposite end of the table and waited until his colleagues had settled in. Four men and one woman. She didn’t recognize any of them from the scene at the school yesterday. Krueger stood at the head of the table, a statement of his position. Claire chose a seat at the end farthest from him and with two chairs separating her from the next nearest agent. That was perfectly fine by her.
    The man who had brought her to the room appeared and passed out a bound report of some sort to everyone seated, including Claire. He then assumed a position at the door as if guarding it to ensure no one else entered. She didn’t open the report since no one else at the table bothered.
    She wondered if Darlene were alone in the parlor now or if one of the other men they’d met onthe journey over here had arrived to keep her company. Darlene would definitely like that.
    “Miss Grant, if I may have your full attention.”
    Embarrassed that she’d been caught with her mind elsewhere, Claire shifted her gaze to Krueger, who remained standing.
    He stared directly at her with an unsettling intensity. Those extraordinary green eyes seemed to bore right through her but she didn’t look away. She couldn’t have at this point, even if she’d wanted to.
    “To my left,” he said as he gestured to the woman sitting on Claire’s side of the table, “is Special Agent Betty Nance. Next to her are Special Agents Craig Carver and Skyler Goldbach.”
    Claire looked from one agent to the next, presented the best smile she had to offer under the circumstances. Some part of her wondered if a mistake had been made. Why would the FBI invite her to a briefing?
    “On my right are Special Agents Ronald Maxwell and Andy Talkington. That’s Special Agent Todd Holman at the door.”
    She managed an acknowledging nod as she surveyed the group, wondered again what in the world she was doing with this room full of federal agents.
    “Today,” Krueger said, drawing her