The Abandoned (A Sarah Roberts Thriller Book 14) Read online

  Juan had only been to two classes, but it was enough for Aaron to know that he didn’t fit in. With Juan’s back to him, Aaron approached and tapped his arm. When Juan glanced over, Aaron nodded toward his office.

  “I have to go,” Juan said into the phone.

  Aaron went ahead and left his office door open. He sat behind his desk and pulled Juan’s initial fee from petty cash. A moment later, Juan entered the office, closing the door behind him.

  “You can leave that open,” Aaron said.

  “Better not.” Juan shook his head. “We wouldn’t want anyone hearing our conversation. Might be bad for business.”

  Aaron leaned back in his chair and raised a finger to his lips. “How’s that?”

  “You first. Why did you call me in here?” Juan asked.

  Aaron studied the Mexican’s face. He couldn’t read Juan, couldn’t understand him. Why join a karate class only to disrupt it? This was a dojo where students came to learn. Juan didn’t have to be here, but he stayed and participated less than half the time.

  “I called you to my office,” Aaron tossed the money on the desk, “to give you back your month’s fee and tell you you’re no longer welcome at my dojo.”

  Juan let out a soft chuckle. “You’re firing me?”

  “Not firing. You don’t work here. Just canceling your membership.”

  “No, you’re firing me. I do work here. I work hard here.”

  “Call it what you want, but you’re leaving now. We don’t want you back here. You’ve been to two classes and disrupted them both. If you know so much about karate, open your own dojo and teach your own style. But you can’t do it here.”

  Juan was shaking his head, his lower lip curled inside his mouth as he bit on it. Slowly, he moved forward until he rested his hands on the end of Aaron’s desk. For a moment Aaron wondered if Juan desired a fight. This wouldn’t be a problem, but it was something he wanted to avoid as it would send a wrong message. The last time Aaron fought a student, he almost killed him, but that was because the student had done a terrible, unspeakable thing to a young girl.

  “Tell me one thing and I will leave peacefully.”

  Aaron pushed his chair back and got to his feet. In his heightened state of alertness he was ready. Juan was unpredictable, even a little crazy. With the door shut, it would be Juan’s word against Aaron’s and since Aaron had a track record for hospitalizing a student, he needed to quell this fast.

  “Where is Sarah Roberts?” Juan asked.

  That took Aaron by surprise. He actually took a step back as if he had been slapped unexpectedly. Then anger at such an invasive question consumed him and he put his hands on the desk to lean forward.

  “Why are you asking about her?” Aaron asked.

  “People’s lives depend on me locating Sarah Roberts.”

  “Whose lives?”

  “Just tell me where I can find her.”

  “Is that why you’re here? Is that why you joined my club? To speak with Sarah Roberts?”

  Juan’s jaw clenched. Somehow this conversation angered him.

  “Will you give me the information I need?” Juan asked.

  “Absolutely not. Get out.”

  Aaron walked around his desk, opened the office door and motioned for Juan to leave.

  “What will it take for you to tell me where she is? Or at least commit to getting her in touch with me?”

  Aaron stepped out to the main class area, ignoring Juan’s last question.

  “Everyone, stop what you’re doing. At ease.”

  The class of twenty-three students and three teachers stopped and turned to face Aaron. His teachers, Daniel, Benjamin, and Alex, all stood rigid, at attention. Alex moved along the side wall toward the front door. Aaron didn’t stop him. Someone had to open the front door when Juan was tossed through it.

  Aaron gestured at Juan who remained just inside the office door. “We have a student leaving us today. Normally I would regret his departure, but we’ve had two classes with Juan and not only does he refuse to take direction, he’s determined to disrupt the class. I have politely asked him to leave, but he refuses. So please class, when I physically remove him, don’t be frightened.” Aaron turned to Alex. “The door.” Alex nodded and moved faster.

  Aaron turned back to Juan. “On your own or on your head?”

  Juan emerged from Aaron’s office, his face rigid in anger.

  “You will pay for this. And I will still find Sarah.”

  The last straw and all that, Aaron had had enough. He lunged in, wrapped Juan’s arms together as if they were in a straitjacket, hugged him close to lock the arms down, and nose to nose, Aaron said, “You will stay away from her. Don’t even speak her name.”

  “Why? Because you don’t want me to follow her to Europe? Or should I wait until she returns? Or maybe I’ll ask Parkman to set up a meeting. He’d be none the wiser.”

  Aaron squeezed harder until Juan’s last words were almost cut off. Then abruptly he let go, forcing Juan away from him.

  “Get out. I’ll be calling Sarah and Parkman. I’ll explain who you are and what you just said. Don’t ever let me see you again.”

  Juan started for the door. The class behind Aaron remained pin-drop quiet.

  Juan turned back at the door. “You can’t explain who I am because you don’t know anything about me. You can’t call Sarah because she’s in trouble with the Netherlands authorities. And you will see me again. Very soon.” He wagged a finger in the air and squinted his eyes. “Actually, you won’t see me coming.”

  Aaron took a step forward but Alex waved him off. In a shuffle movement, Alex’s foot swept out while his right hand nudged Juan’s shoulder. It was enough of a push that Juan was clear of the door, but it was the foot sweep that caused Juan to lose his balance. He fell on his butt square on the welcome mat just as Alex closed and locked the door.

  “Oops,” Alex whispered.

  The class behind him roared and clapped with enthusiasm.

  But Aaron felt none of their joy. All he felt was danger. There was something about Juan that scared him. Something that went deep. Like he was part of a street gang or worse. Somehow Sarah had crossed this man’s path and now Juan and whoever he represented wanted retribution. It was something like that. It had to be. Otherwise, how did Juan know so much about Sarah?

  And what was that about trouble with the Netherlands authorities?

  He had to call Amsterdam. But where to start? And now he had to watch his back. Juan threatened that Aaron wouldn’t see him coming. What could that mean? He had to call and warn Parkman.

  What the hell was going on?

  Aaron nodded at his teachers, a clear signal to take the class as he locked himself in his office and picked up the phone.

  After all he had been through in life, he was surprised his hands were shaking.

  Chapter 10

  It had to be at least two hours before the female officer returned and offered Sarah a toilet break. Once she was done, the woman took her back to the interview room. Not a word was exchanged between them.

  Reseated, a coffee was brought in for her without asking, for which she was grateful. She sipped it and tried to remain calm even though her nerves had other plans. By the time she had taken her last drink from the coffee, the door opened. Inspector Dekker entered the room followed by two men in suits. One had a lazy eye, a pot belly and a thick white mustache. The other’s face was pockmarked by some disease in his past. Either that or a bad case of youthful acne. He was the opposite shape of his partner, slim, trim and barrel-chested.

  “Sarah, these men are with the NTSB, your American agency that investigates plane crashes.”

  “That’s fast.”

  “Fast? How so?”

  “The plane just crashed.”

  “We were already here. Vacation. Got called in to review the preliminary results before the rest of the team arrive tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, I’ll believe that. Sounds like
a good story to me.”

  The men exchanged glances.

  Lazy Eye turned to face her. “It’s not a story. It’s a fact.”

  “Whatever. Your agenda doesn’t matter to me. What matters to me is when I can go tour the lovely city of Amsterdam. How about it, Dekker? When are you letting me go?”

  “Sarah, the tough-girl act won’t work here. You are already aware that charges against you are being processed as we speak.”

  “What kind of charges? What did I allegedly do?”

  The three men took seats opposite her. None of them held folders or pulled anything out to write on.

  “Let’s start with the hijacking of a commercial airliner.”

  “Hijacking? That’s funny.” Sarah offered a fake laugh. “How could anyone misconstrue what I did as a hijacking?”

  “Every passenger we talked to feels that’s the case.”

  What is their game? They know that’s not true.

  Dekker continued. “Sarah, you brought a gun and a knife on board. Could you explain how you got those items through security?”

  “I did not bring those weapons on board. And if you ask the right passengers you will learn that the gun was held by a man named Casper.”

  “Casper?” Dekker asked, eyebrows raised.

  The younger, fitter NTSB agent began flipping through something on his cell phone.

  “What are you doing?” Sarah asked.

  “Passenger list names are alphabetized on my phone.” He flipped two more times, then shook his head. “No one by the name of Casper on the plane.”

  The trio of men stared at her, waiting for more.

  “Try Buck Schaffer. Casper’s a nickname.”

  The NTSB agent flipped through his phone again, shaking his head.

  “Nothing. No Buck. No Schaffer.”

  “Tell us your story. Why don’t you start at the beginning?” Dekker asked her. “The more you tell us the better for you. Like why you have no luggage. Not even a carry-on bag. What woman travels without at least a carry-on? How do you expect to change clothes? Or do you?”

  “I wasn’t planning on staying more than a day. I’d buy replacements and fly back tomorrow or the day after.”

  “Why’s that? Seems like a short vacation. Or are you not here on vacation? Tell us, what’s your purpose in Amsterdam?”

  She considered what they had on her. The angry passengers. Jasmijn Luna attacked and forced to listen to Sarah. A story of a man named after a ghost who then disappeared. Diamonds in a cargo warehouse. Whether it was a story concocted for her benefit, or all coincidentally true, it didn’t look good.

  “I want a lawyer,” she said.

  Dekker shook his head. “It doesn’t work like that here. I work for the Ministry of Defense. Your actions against one of our airlines and your potential theft of the diamonds at the cargo warehouse has labeled you as a potential terrorist. You have no rights as of this moment. The only way for you to resolve this is by answering our questions in the best manner possible. It will go a long way during sentencing when this gets to court in a year or two.”

  Shock settled in over her system. “You’ve got to be kidding me. There is no way what you’re doing is legal.”

  “Test me. Test us. Clam up. Do nothing. Say nothing. Go ahead. Nothing will change the fact that you blurted out, before the captain announced what was wrong, that the plane would have an accident. The senior flight crew member told us how you knew everything before it happened. Unless you’re psychic, that is simply impossible. The only other possibility is you planned it. So tell us, why did you want to crash your own ITA flight?”

  Sarah imagined her face whitening. It took sheer will to find her voice and when she did, she wondered why she even spoke the words.

  “I am psychic,” she said.

  All three men laughed. When they collected themselves, Dekker turned toward her, a stern expression on his face.

  “I wonder what the judge will think of that?” He slapped his knee. “No, the psychic defense won’t hold up. Please explain how you sabotaged our plane and why. It will go a long way toward receiving better treatment while you’re with us.”

  “I have nothing further to say to you. Look me up. Research my name. You’ll learn who I am and what I can do.”

  “Okay, I will do that. What is your name?”

  She frowned. “I’m Sarah Roberts.”

  “That’s the name you gave us, but we know it as a fake moniker, a pseudonym. The real American named Sarah Roberts was wanted yesterday in Toronto, Canada on suspicion of multiple murders. Our information is up to date and we understand she’s still in custody. It’s highly unlikely that you cleared your name and got on a flight out of Toronto headed to Europe that fast. Even Amanda Knox took longer to flee the Italian courts. We know that it takes planning to sabotage such a large commercial plane. If you were the real Sarah Roberts and not working with the jewel thieves, then I’ll eat my words. But we all know that is not true. So just tell us your name and we’ll get on with it.”

  “Okay, write this down.” She waited until Dekker was ready. “My last name is Fobrains.” Sarah spelled it for him. “My first name is Url.”

  “Url Fobrains?” he asked.

  Sarah nodded. “My middle name is Shit.”

  “Url Shit Fobrains.”

  “You got it. It sounds like this: You’re all shit for brains.”

  Without laughing, all three men got up and started for the door.

  “Fingerprint asshole. That’s how you learn my identity. Send it back to the States. Call Toronto. Ask to speak to Detective Marina Diner. She’ll verify that I was on that plane and with her almost right up until I boarded the flight. Look into things. Investigate me. You’ll see a pattern form.” The door was almost closed. “A pattern of truth, asshole.”

  The door closed.

  “Shit!” She slammed her hands on the table, making her empty coffee cup bounce once and fall over.

  What the fuck is going on, Sis?

  Chapter 11

  Aaron couldn’t get through to Parkman so he left messages at his office in Santa Rosa and on his cell phone. Caleb and Amelia, Sarah’s parents, were unavailable, too.

  He called his apartment to listen remotely to his messages, but none were on his phone.

  Wouldn’t Sarah call? Did he miss her call? If so, why wouldn’t she leave a message? She had to have landed in Amsterdam by now.

  If he wanted to call Amsterdam, where would he start?

  It was late, the class already gone home. His teachers had left a half an hour ago. Alone, the lights dimmed, the doors locked, Aaron sat in his office chair and felt something loosen in the fabric of his life with Sarah.

  When strange men come to his class in order to meet Sarah, it bothered him. He should have subdued Juan and made him talk. But the entire class had been watching. He had a gut feeling someone like Juan didn’t go to the police. But that meant someone like Juan would be back. And he wouldn’t be alone.

  How could Juan know about Sarah? How did he know where she was and what was happening to her?

  “What the hell’s going on?” Aaron asked the empty office.

  After ten more minutes of quiet reflection, he collected his things and locked the office. At the front door, he set the alarm, stepped outside and secured the front door.

  Half an hour later he was entering the side door to his apartment building. The elevator was empty when he stepped on. At his apartment door, he took one last look up and down the hallway outside his door, opened it, closed it, and locked it, then slid the chain on.

  He tossed his duffle bag on the floor, kicked off his shoes and headed to the kitchen for a glass of wine. An Australian Shiraz was left over from the other night. Once his glass was poured, he moved into the living room, grabbed the cordless phone and sat in the plush armchair.

  He hit the talk button and listened for the dial tone.

  It wasn’t there.

  He shook the phon
e, hit the button again, then listened.

  Nothing.

  “It’s dead,” someone said.

  Aaron jerked at the voice coming from his dining room, the wine spilling over the top of the glass. He set the dripping glass on the coffee table and made to stand, but rough hands landed on his shoulders, shoving him back into the chair.

  A large gun entered his peripheral vision.