Page 52 of Nightfire

“You don’t have any more information about the two men?” she asked. It was still such a surprise that she’d been attacked, completely out of nowhere.

“No, ma’am. The dead man—" he fixed Mike with a hard stare and Mike stared right back. If there was one thing about Mike she knew, it was that he couldn’t be intimidated. “The dead man had nothing on his person that could identify him. No wallet, no cell phone, no ID at all. The tags had been cut off his clothes. I was told informally by the coroner’s assistant that he had gold fillings that weren’t done in this country, but that’s about it. AFIS results show his fingerprints not on file anywhere in the US. We’re still waiting for IEAG results.”

“International fingerprint database,” Mike explained.

“But Russia’s not a party to IAEG.” Bill huffed out an exasperated breath. “So if they are Russian, he won’t be in their system either. I heard that the other guy’s cell rang. Turns out the caller is untraceable. We’re still figuring out how that can happen. So, Chloe. Starting from the beginning. How did they know where you were?”

“I don’t know,” Chloe said slowly, starting to feel woozy. Mike’s hand covered hers, warm and strong and safe. She definitely wanted to answer questions but delayed shock was catching up with her. “I was in the supply room, which not many people know about. The door they came in isn’t used much, either. Most people enter the room by the door all of you used, which gives out onto a small terrace and then out onto the parking lot. You’d have to be familiar with the shelter’s layout to know to use that door.”

Bill looked up. “Are the blueprints on file anywhere?”

Chloe’s mind went blank. She had no idea.

“We can check that,” said Mike. “I’ve got a friend in the Land Registry Office. I’ll text him now.”

“So. You’re in this supply room.”

Chloe nodded. “Folding clothes.”

“Is that something you do normally?”

“Donations of clothes are made in various points in the city and are collected and brought to the shelter on Wednesday afternoons. So, yes, in answer to your question, I’m often folding and sorting clothes on Wednesday afternoons.”

“And who knows this?”

Chloe lifted her shoulders. “Almost everyone at the shelter, I should think. It’s not a secret.”

“So the men came in through the door and what? What did you think?“

“I tried to talk myself out of it, but I was instantly terrified,” Chloe confessed. “There was something about the way they moved, something in their eyes…” She shivered.

“Here, honey.” Mike reached behind them for a small blanket Ellen kept on the couch in case Gracie got cold. He wrapped it around her shoulders, kissed her temple.

Absolutely no one reacted. Not Harry or Sam or Ellen or Nicole. Not even Bill Kelly. It was as if Mike hugging her and kissing her had become the new norm.

“I told you they moved like soldiers.” Mike’s jaw tightened. “Possibly Russian soldiers. The Soviet Union and now the Russian Federation doesn’t recruit soldiers on the basis of their kindness. They treat their soldiers brutally and the soldiers are brutal in return.”

Bill nodded, mouth downturned. “What did they say to you, Chloe?”

She rubbed her forehead in frustration. “Well, that’s the thing. They didn’t say much at all really. Just that I was supposed to pay attention to them. They said that over and over. And pulled out a long black knife to sort of drive that concept home. They put the knife under my eye.”

Mike turned his head slowly. His eyes met Bill’s. “Keep that guy under lock and key.” He made a sound in his throat that sounded scarily like a growl.

“Yeah. He’s not going anywhere and you’re not coming near him. We picked the knife up. It’s a Kizlyar. You pegged it, Mike.”

“Russian combat knife. Used by their Army and Special Forces. Christ.” Harry rubbed his forehead.

A Russian combat knife. Chloe tucked that away among the many terrifying and absolutely puzzling details of what had happened today.

Bill wrote something in his notebook. “So, Chloe. You were supposed to pay attention. To what?”

“They never said. They got…sidetracked.”

By attempted rape. The words quivered in the air. Mike’s breathing was audible, as if he were pushing some great weight.

“Is there any reason why two men, possibly soldiers, possibly Russian, would want to target you?”

She’d barely thought of anything else on the ride to the hospital and the ride back home. “I’ve thought and thought, but I pull a complete blank.”