need you to move it to the Marriott Marquis for me, okay? Visitors’ parking. Leave the ticket on the seat and hide the keyfob behind the parking pay machine in the lobby.”
Miraculously, Helen still did not demand an explanation. “Is there anything else you need?”
“No.”
She squeezed Claire’s hand before leaving.
Claire waited until her mother disappeared into the FBI building. She walked down the street. She forced herself not to look over her shoulder as she reached the corner. She crossed against the light, dodging around a yellow taxi. She took West Peachtree toward downtown. She finally looked behind her.
Harvey was thirty yards away. His arms were bent at the elbows as he tried to catch up with her. His jacket billowed out. His gun was dark and menacing against his white dress shirt.
Claire picked up the pace. She regulated her breathing. She tried to keep her heart rate under control. She looked behind her.
Harvey was twenty yards away.
Lydia’s phone started ringing. Claire pulled it from her back pocket as she started to jog. She looked at the screen. UNKNOWN NUMBER.
Paul said, “Did you enjoy your time at the FBI?”
“Is Lydia okay?”
“I’m not sure.”
Claire crossed the street again. A car screeched to a stop inches away from her hip. The driver yelled out his open window. She asked Paul, “Do you want that USB drive or not?”
“Lydia is fine. What did you tell the FBI?”
“Nothing. That’s why they kept me so long.” Claire looked over her shoulder. Harvey was closer, maybe fifteen yards away. “A cop is following me. One of Mayhew’s guys.”
“Get rid of him.”
Claire ended the call. She jogged across the street. She knew this area of town because she had worked in the Flatiron Building when they first moved to Atlanta. Claire had hated the job. She took long walks during lunch and came back late and flirted with her boss so he would let her leave early.
She started jogging again. Harvey was quickly closing the gap between them. He was a big man with a long stride. He was going to catch up with her soon.
Claire turned the corner onto Spring Street. She lunged into a full run. She was at the next corner by the time Harvey rounded the building. Claire went halfway down the side street. She checked over her shoulder. Harvey hadn’t made the corner yet. She frantically looked for an escape route. The Southern Company’s side entrance was the closest option. There were six glass doors and a large revolving door at the far end. She tried the first door, but it was locked. She tried the next one, then the next one. She looked back for Harvey. Still not there, but he would be running now, catching up fast. She tried another door, then wanted to kick herself for not going to the revolving door first. Claire ran full-bore into the open mouth of the door. She pushed so hard against the glass partition that she heard the motor grind.
The lobby was cordoned off by glass turnstiles. The sleepy guard behind the counter was smiling. He had probably watched her try each door.
“I’m sorry.” Claire pitched up her voice a few octaves so she sounded helpless. “I know it’s awful of me to ask, but can I use your restroom?”
The guard smiled. “Anything for a pretty lady.” He reached under the desk and opened one of the turnstiles. “Go straight through to the main lobby on West Peachtree. The bathrooms are on the right.”
“Thank you so much.” Claire walked briskly through the partition. She looked behind her. Harvey raced past the side-entrance doors.
She had two seconds of relief before he came back.
Claire darted into an elevator alcove. She kept her head turned so she could see him. Harvey started toward the building. He pulled on one of the locked doors. He was clearly winded. His breath fogged the glass. He wiped it away with his jacket sleeve. He cupped his hands to his eyes and peered into the lobby.
The guard mumbled something under his breath.
Claire pressed her back against the elevator doors.
Harvey pushed away from the glass. Instead of leaving, he moved toward the revolving door. Claire tensed herself. She would tell the guard that Harvey was stalking her. Then Harvey would flash his badge. She could run toward the front entrance, dart back into the street.
Or she could stay here.
Harvey hadn’t pushed through the revolving door. He was still standing outside. His head was turned to the right. Something on West