Mr. And Miss Anonymous

by Fern Michaels

  Lily continued to size up the agent behind her own drugstore sunglasses. He was a good 210 pounds, and she could tell he worked out. The word “buff” came to mind. His wheat-colored hair was styled, and his pearly whites guaranteed he was his dentist’s poster boy. In short, Agent Robbins was a hunk. A threatening hunk.

  Pete stepped forward, his hand outstretched. Agent Robbins did his best to crush his hand, but it was Pete who exerted enough pressure to make the agent’s lips thin out in a grimace.

  Lily and Winston found themselves being introduced. Lily merely nodded as she clasped the agent’s hand. Winston, although always a gentleman, did not offer up his paw. Clearly the jury was still out on Agent Robbins where the dog was concerned.

  Robbins took the lead. “Mr. Kelly, you said you had information you wanted to share with me concerning the shooting at the academy. I’m here to listen.”

  “What I said, Agent Robbins, was this: I said I had information to share, and if you share yours, we can compare notes and, hopefully, solve this case.”

  “The FBI does not, I repeat, does not, share information on a crime with outsiders. I don’t care if you do run the biggest software company in the whole world. If you have information that will aid in this investigation, this would be a good time to share it. Otherwise, I’ll run you in and charge you with obstructing justice.”

  Lily turned around when she heard Zolly mutter, “Oh, jeez, it’s turning into a pissing contest.”

  She looked up to see if Agent Robbins had heard Zolly’s assessment of the current situation. If he did, he wasn’t letting on.

  “Well, how’s this for starters? That school is tied to the Berkeley Sperm Bank and the fertility clinic next door. Both of which suddenly closed their doors within minutes of my visiting and asking questions. Your turn.”

  Agent Robbins smirked, then leaned back against the side of the building as he fired up a cigarette and blew a perfect smoke ring. “Well, that is certainly creative. I can’t even come close to matching that information. All I can say is an off-the-wall kid got hold of a gun and decided to kill his teachers and classmates. The kid is on the run, but we’ll find him. We always get our man.”

  Pete let loose with a loud guffaw of disgust. “See, there you go. I was being honest with you, and you up and tell me a big fat old lie. Shame on you. There were two boys on the run.”

  “Oh, yeah, the other kid. He gave himself up. Just walked into the office cool as you please the other day with his backpack. He had a note or something from the other kid—the shooter. The kid with the backpack is in la-la land. Doesn’t even know his name. He giggles a lot, I’m told. Your turn, Mister Kelly.” He made Pete’s name sound obscene.

  Lily decided in that moment that she hated the nattily attired Agent Robbins. Winston came to the same conclusion and growled ominously.

  Pete’s mind raced. He now had more information than he had had a few minutes ago. “That’s it for now. Anytime you care to share more, call me. Just so you know, if there’s one thing I excel in, Agent Robbins, it’s computers. I have every hacker, every expert in the business working on ownership. As in who owns that academy, the sperm bank, and the fertility clinic. You know that old saying ‘you can run, but you can’t hide.’ I’ll find out sooner rather than later. If it’s later, you might be a ticket taker at Disney when we meet again.”

  Agent Robbins bolted upright as he stepped on his cigarette, then picked it up. “Is that a threat? Did I just hear a threat?”

  “Hell, no, Agent Robbins, that was a promise.”

  Robbins’s voice dripped ice. “What’s your interest in all this, Kelly?”

  Pete eyeballed the agent standing a foot away. “That kid you’re looking for…the one the dean from the academy said was a troubled youngster. He’s mine. And he sure as hell isn’t troubled. Actually, I think he’s pretty much a chip off the old block. What that means to you, Agent Robbins, is this: that kid did not kill anyone, and you and your Bureau are misleading the public. It also means he is incredibly intelligent. Just like me. We’ll see if you always get your man. I’m betting in this case, you’re the loser.” As Pete turned his back on Agent Robbins, he wondered if what he’d said was the truth.

  Agent Robbins’s jaw dropped. He removed the dark glasses to gape at Pete as he tried to decide if he was lying or not.

  “Where’s Lily?” Pete asked Zolly.

  “She went into the library. Maybe she had to go to the bathroom or something?” The boss had a kid and he was just finding out. Who cared where the chick went. A kid. The boss had a kid that was supposed to have killed… Zolly couldn’t quite wrap his mind around what he’d just heard. Was he supposed to say something? How was he supposed to react? For the first time in his life, he was confused. A kid. A grown-up kid. A nanosecond later he wondered if Lily was the mother. Oh, sweet Jesus, the board was going to explode when they got downwind of all this.

  Winston whined as he brushed against Pete’s leg. Pete reached down to scratch his big head. “We’ll talk about this later, Zolly.” He looked up to see Lily standing in the doorway, motioning frantically.

  Pete raced off on a dead run. “What? Is he in there? What, Lily?”

  “No, no, not the boy. The man, the kid, whatever he was, the one the other boy, Bill, was drawing that day in the library. I just saw him. I followed him, but he was too fast for me. That is, I think it was him, Pete, but I’m not sure. It was the soccer outfit that…that’s what the boy drew.”

  “Is he still in here?” Pete asked, as he raced up and down aisles, Lily right behind him.

  “I don’t know, Pete. I didn’t see him again. Even though I only caught a glimpse of the drawing that day, it certainly did look like him.”

  Thirty minutes later they accepted that the man Lily had seen was gone.

  Chapter 10

  He noticed that his hand trembled slightly when he reached up for the novel listed under the F’s in the Fiction aisle. He knew there would be a sticky note inside. His guts churned. He was supposed to be a thousand miles away already. His credo and the reason he’d survived in this business was: do the job, then remove yourself from the scene. Even when the outcome didn’t go as planned. One opportunity was all you got. If you blew it, or Fate blew it, you damn well still moved on. It wasn’t working out like that this time. That was the reason his hands were shaking. Shift into neutral, shift into neutral, he told himself over and over as he stared at the yellow sticky note in his hand. He noticed that his hand was still shaking when he replaced Ian Fleming’s book on the shelf. The note went into the Velcro pocket of his soccer shorts.

  The soccer player didn’t like libraries. The truth was, he didn’t like any public place where people milled around. He was phobic about being around lots of people, but he wouldn’t admit it. He looked around to see if anyone was watching him. Where the hell was the woman in the funny-looking hat who had stared at him? Really stared. Stared right into his goddamn eyes.

  If there was one thing he was good at, besides blowing people away, it was reading people’s expressions. A requisite of his job. She looked like she recognized him. But from where? He had a phenomenal memory for faces, and he knew he’d never seen her before. His heart kicked up an extra beat. If he didn’t get out of there right now, things would start to close in on him. He couldn’t let that happen.

  The first thing he always did when entering any building was to take a full minute to check out the EXIT signs and plan his way out. Move! Move! Move! his mind shrieked. Another minute, and he knew he would be in full panic mode. He saw her at that precise minute with a tall dude almost running down the Fiction A aisle. He was almost to the door when an equally tall boy, a damn replica of the man with the woman, literally bumped into him. Their gazes locked as the door swished open. He saw the open door, correctly read the instant recognition in the kid’s frantic gaze at the same moment. He had to go through the open door. He had to.

  The soccer player took huge gulps of air
to steady himself. Mind over matter. Get hold of yourself. This is a weakness you can control. His pep talk wasn’t working. His heart was hammering so hard, he thought he was going to pass out. First the woman, then the kid. What the hell was going on?

  He had to get out of there before the woman and man came back outside. He knew in his gut they were searching for him. The kid—the kid was a bonus. He could have whacked him right there with one smack to his nose, driving it right up into his brain. But the soccer player’s hands were shaking too badly to do it, not to mention the panic that was welling through him. He turned around, realizing that even though only seconds had gone by, the kid was gone.

  Never linger. Fall back and regroup. He didn’t stop to think or to ponder his options because at that moment it seemed there were none. He plowed through a group of giddy youngsters walking four abreast. He heard himself being cursed out in the way only the young could do when they believed there was strength in numbers.

  The soccer player managed to get to his vehicle, a battered brown Toyota he’d heisted the day before from a Target parking lot. His heart continued to slam against his rib cage as he put the pedal to the metal. Even his leg was shaking. If he hadn’t been so consumed with what had just occurred, he would have seen the boy, who was trembling as badly as he was, lurking behind a black minivan.

  The minute the brown car was out of the lot, Josh Baer raced away, to the shouts of, “Hey kid, hold on!” The words just fueled his brain. He was thankful that he’d worked out with Tom back at the academy. He was the best hurdler at the school because of his long legs. Tom had been the best sprinter. Sheila had been their cheerleader. They were calling him—the lady with the hat and the tall man with her. Why? How had they found him?

  He was winded when he finally stopped to grip his knees to steady his quivering body. He struggled to take deep breaths. First the guy in the green-and-white shorts, now the lady in the hat. Who was the big guy with her? It was his voice that had shouted, “Hey kid, hold on!” Josh didn’t have even one doubt that he was the kid the man was yelling at. What did that mean? He damn well knew what it meant. They wanted to talk to him so they could turn him in to the authorities. That’s exactly what it meant.

  He had to get to a computer to see if there was an e-mail from the FBI. He had to find out about Jesse. The moment his breathing returned to something close to normal, Josh settled the cheap nylon backpack more comfortably on his back. He’d been forced to buy it so he could keep copies of his e-mails and Jesse’s drawings, which he’d photocopied before dropping him off at the FBI office that first night.

  Josh closed his eyes to conjure up the route to the public library. He started off at a hard run and didn’t let up until his breathing became tortured. He thought about Jesse then, although actually Jesse was never really out of his thoughts. Where did they take him? Were they feeding him? Was he happy and safe? His eyes burned with regret at what he’d done.

  What to do? Where to go? He wished he’d read more spy novels to see how the good guys outwitted the bad guys. He rather thought the trick was knowing exactly who the bad guys were. Was the lady in the hat a good guy or a bad guy? Did it even matter? Just then he couldn’t trust anyone, not even the FBI.

  The big guy—the one with the lady in the hat. He’d seen him somewhere. Probably on television or in the newspaper. Maybe he was an important person. Maybe the lady was an important person. Jesse’s drawing of the man had been bothering him from the minute Jesse had offered it up for his approval. He was glad now he hadn’t given up those drawings to the FBI. Who was he? Sheila had always said you needed to pay attention to your gut instincts. How right she was.

  As Josh jogged along, he wondered if it would be possible to hitchhike to downtown San Francisco or Sacramento. He had to get away from the area as quickly as possible. He also needed some kind of disguise. The money in his pocket was dwindling faster than he liked. Before he could even think about leaving the area, he had to check for that e-mail. He crossed his fingers that Jesse was okay even if he was in his own world. He couldn’t help but wonder what Jesse thought about being dumped at the FBI. Poor kid. One way or another, someone was going to pay for what happened to Jesse and all the others. Especially Tom and Sheila. Every time he thought about them, his eyes started to burn. He made a mental note to check the obituaries when he got to the library. Maybe he could find out about the burial service for all the students who were gunned down. Maybe the name of the funeral home would be in the paper, and he could call them for information.

  Josh wanted to cry at the situation he was being forced to deal with. So many things to do and so little time to do them.

  Who were those people back at the library?

  Looking over his shoulder every few minutes, Josh finally made his way to the public library, where he collapsed on a chair at the very back. He had a good view of anyone coming his way. There was also an EXIT door just a few feet away. He had to think and plan. “I wish you were here, Tom. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how long I can keep this up,” he murmured to himself.

  “I’m right here, buddy. Fire away.”

  Josh whirled around, his face a mask of fear. “Tom? Is it you? Where are you?”

  “Yeah, it’s me, good buddy. You didn’t think I’d desert you, did you?”

  “But…but you’re dead. Where are you? How can you talk to me like this?”

  “I’m right here next to you. Sheila is in the other chair. You said you needed me, so here I am. Get hold of yourself.”

  “Are you…are you a ghost? I don’t believe in ghosts. You don’t either. Explain that, Tom.”

  “I’m a spirit. I’m here. We’re talking. I rest my case.”

  “I’m dreaming. Just because you were smarter than me doesn’t mean I’m going to fall for this. Show yourself, then I’ll believe it.”

  “No can do, buddy. Because Sheila and I met our demise so violently, we can’t rest or get to the other side. I need your help, too, Josh. All Sheila does is whine. She wants to get to the other side. By the way, those tests said I was only one point ahead of you. That means you’re just as smart as I am. I guess we both came out of the same test tube.”

  “Do…do you know about Jesse? I didn’t want to take him there, Tom, but I didn’t know what else to do. Do you know if he’s safe?”

  “He’s safe, Josh, and you did the right thing. Sheila agrees. Now, let’s tackle your problem.”

  “I saw the guy that killed you, Tom. We were eyeball-to-eyeball. He could have killed me right then and there, but he kept going. He was at the same library. I don’t know how he found me. He scared the bejesus out of me. I have to hide somewhere, and I don’t have much money. I need to take a shower, too. A change of clothes would be really good. Help me out here, Tom.”

  “Go back to the academy, but go at night. You know the grounds like the back of your hand. You know every stick and stone, every blade of grass. There’s a hundred places to hide. You can hide out there and take a shower and get clean clothes. There’s probably a few guards, but you can outwit them. You have to believe in yourself, Josh.”

  “Will you be there, Tom?”

  “Sheila and I will be with you every step of the way. Trust me, you won’t be alone. The academy is the last place they’ll look for you. It’s buttoned up good by now. Remember how we used to sneak in and out? All those good places. They’ll never catch on. Hey, you might even be able to snag a laptop. Remember how Mr. Dickey used to hide his and thought we didn’t know? I bet there’s so much pornography on it you’ll be blushing if you snag it. You do remember where he used to hide it, right?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I remember.”

  “Then you’ll remember that he used to keep a stash of money there with his weed, too, right? Josh, don’t trust anyone but yourself. Hey, I bet there’s still all kinds of food in the kitchen. You can stuff yourself. Bet there’s even ice cream in the freezer. You can eat it all. You could use a little fat on your bone
s, buddy.”

  “I know all that, Tom. I’ll think about you when I eat all that strawberry ice cream. The last I checked the FBI hadn’t responded to my e-mail. I’m going to check for it again. Why is that, Tom?”

  “’Cause you can’t trust them, that’s why. You’re smarter than that jerk in charge. I think he’s part of the whole thing. Betcha I’m right, too.”

  “Not much in the papers. My picture. I don’t have access to a TV, so I don’t know what if anything they’re saying. Do you know, Tom?”

  “It’s all being downplayed. It’s those guys that run the academy. You have to find them, too, Josh. When you get to the academy, get the magic number book. When you find someone you can trust, show them the book. All our lives are in that book. Now, aren’t you glad I had a photographic memory?”

  “Yeah. I miss you, Tom. Tell Sheila I miss her, too.”

  “We know.”

  “I wish I knew who that guy was at the library.”

  “Which one, Josh?”

  “What do you mean, which one? The guy that looked like the soccer player. The one who eyeballed me. The one that killed you, for crying out loud.”

  “Well, since the soccer coach didn’t show up that day, I think it’s safe to say that guy got through security by saying he was his assistant or something. The coach is probably dead somewhere. That’s just a guess on my part, okay?”

  “Yeah, that’s pretty much what I thought. This is scary. I’m just a kid. How can I outsmart the FBI? Hey, guess what? Jesse and I saw a real family having dinner. We watched them through the window. I stole food from them, and clothes. I did it mostly for Jesse. You don’t think God will punish me, do you, Tom?”

  “Nah. You’re trying to do good. Remember how Miss Carmody made a joke one time and said God watches over babies, drunks, and fools?”