Last to Die

was barking again, looking pitiful and half strangled as he struggled to free himself from the leash. Claire wanted to untie him, but the woman dragged her away toward the servants’ stairway. The man took the lead, his gaze constantly sweeping the steps above them as he climbed. Never had Claire known people who could move as quietly as these two. They were like cats, their footsteps silent, their eyes always moving. Sandwiched between them, Claire had no view forward or backward, so she focused on the steps, on moving as soundlessly as this man and woman. They were some kind of secret agents, she thought, here to save them. Even to save Teddy, the traitor. She’d had a lot of time to think about it while sitting in that room with her hands bound, listening to the cook’s whimpers, to Dr. Pasquantonio’s nasal whistles as he breathed. She’d thought about all the clues she’d missed. How Teddy never let anyone see his computer screen, but always hit ESCAPE as soon as she walked in the room. He was sending the man messages, she thought. All this time, he’d been helping the man who’d come to kill them.
    She just didn’t know why.
    They were on the third floor now. The man paused and glanced back at Claire for guidance.
    “There,” she whispered, pointing to the spiral staircase that led to the turret. To Dr. Welliver’s office.
    He moved up the stone steps, and Claire crept up behind him. The stairs were steep here, and all she could see of him was the back of his hips and the commando knife dangling from his belt. It was so quiet she could hear the soft rasp of their clothes as they moved step by step.
    The door to the turret was ajar.
    The man gave it a nudge and reached in to flick on the light switch. They saw Dr. Welliver’s desk, her filing cabinet. The sofa with the flowery upholstery and the plump cushions. It was a room Claire knew well. How many hours had she sat on that very sofa, telling Welliver about her sleepless nights, her headaches, her nightmares ? In this room that smelled of incense, decorated in soft pastels and magic crystals, Claire had felt safe enough to reveal secrets. And Dr. Welliver had listened patiently, nodding her head of frizzy silver hair, a cup of herbal tea always beside her.
    Claire stood near the door as the man and woman quickly searched the office and the adjoining bathroom. They checked behind the desk, opened the closet. No Teddy.
    The woman turned to the door that led outside, to the roof walk. The same door Welliver had exited to take her fatal plunge. As the woman stepped outside, the summer wind blew in, warm and sweet with the scent of pine trees. Claire heard running footsteps, then a cry. Seconds later the woman came back in, dragging Teddy by his shirt, and the boy sprawled onto the floor.
    Teddy looked up at Claire. “You told them! You ratted me out.”
    “Why wouldn’t I?” Claire shot back. “After what you did to us.”
    “You don’t understand who these people are!”
    “I know what
you
are, Teddy Clock.” Claire aimed a kick at him, but the woman grabbed her shoulder and dragged her into the corner. “Stay there,” she commanded, then turned to Teddy. “Where is he?”
    Teddy folded himself into a ball and shook his head.
    “What’s his plan? Tell me, Teddy.”
    “I don’t know,” the boy moaned.
    “Of course you do. You know him better than anyone. Just tell me, and everything will be fine.”
    “You’ll kill him. That’s why you’re here.”
    “And you don’t like to see people killed. Do you?”
    “No,” Teddy whispered.
    “Then you wouldn’t want to see this, either.” The woman spun around and pressed her gun to Claire’s forehead. Claire froze, too shocked to say a word. Teddy was stunned just as silent, his eyes wide in horror.
    “Tell me, Teddy,” the woman said. “Or I’ll just have to splatter your friend’s brains all over this nice sofa.”
    The woman’s partner looked just as shocked by this turn of events. “What the fuck are you doing, Justine?”
    “Trying to get some cooperation here. So, Teddy, what do you think? Do you want to see your friend die?”
    “I don’t know where he is!”
    “I’ll count to three.” The gun dug deeper into Claire’s forehead. “One …”
    “Why are you doing this?” Claire cried. “You’re supposed to be the
good guys
!”
    “Two.”
    “You said you were here to help us!”
    “Three.” The woman lifted the weapon and fired into the wall, sending a