Micah was her anchor, guiding her through the swarm to the mall directory.
“The security office.” He pointed to a square on the map. Security was on the lower level, tucked into the area behind the stairs leading up to the food court. “They’ll know what to do.”
She didn’t share his faith in mall cops. “Go,” she told him, leaning against the column that held the map as if she might be sick.
She tried to tell herself she was only acting, although the bright lights and noise kept messing with her balance, making her nauseated. But it wasn’t any physical symptoms that kept her from joining Micah. This pain went much, much deeper. “I’ll catch up.” He turned to leave but she called him back. “Micah.”
“What?” And for a moment he was that boy she’d first met—the one who seemed to know her heart without knowing her at all, the one she’d dared trust with her truth. The boy she’d met before she’d ruined everything.
“You should stay there with them. Security. You know what Gibson looks like. Scan all the cameras. Wait for the cops.”
He frowned. “You’re coming, right?”
“I’ll be right behind you.” She pressed one arm against her belly. “Hurry.”
He waited a beat, searching her face, then nodded and left. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, blocking out the noise and people, and took a breath. He’d be safe, locked away in the security office. Last place Clint would go. First place the cops would.
She opened her eyes, focused, ready. What was Clint’s game? Why was he here when he should be miles away, cementing his escape?
Because he was here, she knew it. She wasn’t sure how she knew—maybe the creeping that crawled below her skin, maybe a subliminal scent only a fellow predator could detect—but Clint was here.
What did he want? She scanned the directory, looking for likely targets. No. What did he need? That answer was easy. There were only two things Clint needed to help him reclaim his life: Morgan and money.
Which meant he was going to use Gibson’s bombs and the crowd as a diversion. The mall had several branches of banks, but they would all be closed for the day. The electronics store? No, not much cash there, they’d mainly deal in credit cards. Ahh…there. Two jewelry stores, one up here on the main level, one on the opposite end of the mall on the lower level. One of the stores had to be his target—but which one?
<><><>
IT WAS AMAZING to see how quickly the first responders cleared out from the high school to head downtown and aid in the efforts at the Pitt game. Jenna watched their flashing lights fade from sight in her rearview mirror as she and Andre drove toward the Radcliffe house to update their client.
“It’s hard, isn’t it?” Andre said. “Part of you wants to be with them, right in the thick of things.”
“Yeah. Until I remember just how awful it can be. A crowd that size, no reliable intel, they have no idea where to send people to keep them safe or even if just the act of evacuating them will set the bombs off.”
“They’re trained for this. They’ll make it work.” Spoken with the certainty of a Marine.
“How much does Diane Radcliffe know about what we’ve found out about Gibson’s activities?” Last thing she needed was a hysterical mother on her hands.
“Know? I’ve given her the facts. Understand and accept? Not a whole lot. Even when I showed her the evidence that he’d helped Caine’s escape, she wrote it off as a school project or script for a video game he was trying to create.”
“Denial. Always the first defense.”
“She’s pretty fragile. Not sure she has any other defenses left to her. Or any support. She begged me not to say anything to her husband.”
“She knows that’s impossible, right?” Jenna sighed. It was going to be a long night. She glanced in the rearview once again, wishing she had gone with Oshiro, Liz, and the others. “Still no word from Morgan?”
“Can’t get through to her. Or Micah.”
Strange. Morgan would ignore a call from Jenna but never from Andre. Her phone rang. Local area code but unfamiliar number. “Maybe that’s her.” She answered it via the car’s speaker.
“Is this Jenna Galloway?” It was a man’s voice.
Andre leaned forward. “Micah? Is that you?”
“Mr. Stone? Yes, I was with Morgan, and—” Micah’s voice dropped and there was a pause as if he was moving. “So much has happened, I can’t even tell you everything, not over the phone, but could you come? The security guards won’t listen to me, and we need your help. There’s a kid with bombs—”
“Gibson Radcliffe?” Jenna asked.
“Yes. How did you know?”
“Where are you? Put Morgan on.”
“We’re at the mall. I can’t put Morgan on.”
“Why not, Micah? What happened?” Andre asked.