"Who?" Mara asked.

"Sarah and Jeremy Gamble. They sat next to you on the flight. What contact have you had with them since the flight?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't recognize their names. I met them on the flight."

"We have witnesses who saw you at Sarah Gamble's house several days ago. What were you doing there?"

"Jeremy had trouble with his portable gaming device. I had fixed it when we were on the plane, and Sarah had called me when the problem recurred. I stopped by to look at it."

"You made a house call to fix a toy?"

"It's not unusual for me to drop by a customer's home. Besides, we shared a traumatic experience, and I thought it would be cathartic to talk to Mrs. Gamble. She was a nice lady."

"So you worked on the toy and left?"

"That's correct."

"Was anyone with you?"

"Mr. Ping drove me there. We happened to be out on another errand, and he agreed to stop by."

"And were Sarah and Jeremy Gamble still at the house when you left?"

"Yes."

"Do you know Bert Reilly?"

"I don't."

"Another pa.s.senger. We were told he went by the shop where you work and hasn't been seen since." Suter gritted his teeth. The slow breathing exercise appeared to be wearing off already. "The Gambles are missing. So are several other pa.s.sengers, including Matt Sandoval, the pilot. Kathy Harrington is missing. We picked you up at her house this morning. What is your explanation for all of these disappearances?"

"I have none," Mara said.

"You have none! We have a laundry list of witnesses a.s.sociating you with these disappearances. What did you do with these people, Ms. Lantern?"

"I had nothing to do with the disappearances of those people. Your witnesses must be mistaken," Mara said, looking to Bohannon. "If the two of you are accusing me of something, maybe it would be better for me to have an attorney here."

Suter jumped out of his seat, on the verge of vaulting over the table. Bohannon blocked him with an arm. "I think it's time we took a break," the detective said.

Suter turned and stomped out of the room. Bohannon turned to Mara, raised an eyebrow and shook his head, and followed the FBI agent into the hall. "We'll be back in a few minutes."

CHAPTER 55.

SUTER PACED BETWEEN the walls of the beige featureless hallway. He loosened his tie and damp collar, craned his neck while closing his eyes to little slits. Bohannon stood in front of a soft-drink vending machine and watched him for a few minutes before approaching. He wasn't sure if the FBI agent was sick again or on the verge of some kind of a breakdown.

He handed a bottle of water to Suter. "Here, drink this. You look like you need it."

Suter's head snapped toward Bohannon. "We're not getting anywhere with her. I think we should put her on ice for a day or two. See if that makes her more cooperative."

"Her attorney will have her out this afternoon. What do we charge her with? Kidnapping, murder, terrorism, what? All we have are a few witnesses who saw her with some of the pa.s.sengers from the flight. We have no real evidence she did anything to the plane or any of the pa.s.sengers." Bohannon leaned against a wall while Suter continued to pace. "Your best bet-"

George Pirelli, the NTSB chief investigator, turned the corner at the end of the hallway, raised a meaty arm with a rolled-up sleeve to get their attention and lumbered toward the investigators. His wrinkled striped b.u.t.ton-down hung loosely over his belt, on the verge of becoming untucked, but, despite his disheveled appearance, he looked relaxed. "Just the gentlemen I was looking for. I've got some news for you." He smiled to Suter. "We're wrapping it up. Have your final reports to me tomorrow afternoon."

A vein bulged on the side of Suter's neck, raced up to his hairline behind his ear. "But we're still following up on the pa.s.senger interviews and the disappearances." He snarled, looked ready to take a bite of Pirelli. Bohannon lifted his backside off the wall, just in case.

Pirelli seemed oblivious to Suter's demeanor. "We've got enough information from the pa.s.senger interviews, and we have concluded the pa.s.senger disappearances are not related to Flight 559. Let the Portland P.D. deal with the disappearances. Shut it down, gentlemen." Pirelli turned sideways to fit his waist past the two men and walked to the exit at the end of the hall. He stopped and looked back at Suter. "Man, you look awful. You should take some time off before reporting back to your office." He continued out of the building.

Suter stood in the center of the hall, trembling, glaring at Bohannon. "We can't let her get away with this. Let's get back to the interrogation."

"What's the point? We're done. You heard Pirelli. Let's send her on her way and go work on our reports," Bohannon said, smiling. "The sooner I get out of here, the better."

"No!" Suter shouted. He caught himself, took a deep breath, twitched a little and lowered his voice. "Look, if she had anything to do with the disappearances, we have an obligation to find out what we can. Pirelli can't tell the FBI not to investigate a kidnapping case. I can a.s.sert jurisdiction, if necessary. Let's ask a few more questions and let her attorney spend a few hours bailing her out."

"First of all, we don't know there was a kidnapping. Second, I'm only a.s.signed here for the NTSB investigation. If you want to work the disappearances, you need to coordinate with the local FBI office and the Portland police. That's a little above my pay grade," Bohannon said. "We can't arrest people without the authority to investigate. If Pirelli is shutting down the investigation, we have no case."

"Just a few questions. That's all. If nothing else, it will help us hand off a more complete case file to the local cops looking into the disappearances."

"I don't know."

Suter shook his head.

Bohannon didn't want to get into a fight this close to being free of this investigation. "Just a few questions and only if you keep your cool. Pirelli is right. You look like h.e.l.l."

Mara switched the phone from her left ear to her right. "I don't know if they intend to arrest me. If they were going to, wouldn't they read me my rights before they started questioning me?"

"I would think so, but I'm not an expert in these matters. I've got a call into the attorney, but he's in court, and it may be a while before we hear back," Ping said, his voice sounding slightly tinny as he spoke via his phone's hands-free function. "In the meantime, Sam and I are on our way over there, just in case."

"Just in case of what?" Mara asked.

"In case they decide to move you. I want to make sure I know where you are. Also, if they decide to release you, I'll be there, and we can continue working on getting the Chronicle back."

"At the rate this is going, you could be waiting all day."

"Don't worry about that. Now tell me, what specifically are they asking about?"

"Well, they definitely suspect we had something to do with the disappearances of-" The doork.n.o.b to the conference room rattled. "I gotta go. They're coming back."

"Call me if they try to take you anywhere."

Mara hit the End icon on her phone and slid it back into her jeans pocket.

Bohannon reached across the table and placed a bottle of water in front of Mara. She nodded a thank-you to him. He smiled and sat down. Suter took his seat, leaned across the table and once again led with his sweaty face while holding his hands under the table. Although Suter maintained his intensity, Bohannon looked more relaxed. Mara wondered why. She pressed back in her chair, tried to appear neutral.

"Ms. Lantern, when you were at the Gamble home, did you encounter a man named Travis Johnson?" Suter asked, staring without blinking.

"No, I did not." She took a drink from her water bottle. Watching him sweat made her want to take a shower.

"That's not true." Suter slapped a palm on the table. "He says he saw you in the garage. You did not see a man tied to the rafters?

"No. I did not."

"Is that all you can say? 'No, I did not.'" He mimicked her with a grating falsetto. "You don't seem surprised that a man was tied up in the rafters of the garage. Doesn't that strike you as odd?"

"We entered the house through the garage. Mrs. Gamble was doing something in there when we arrived, but I did not see a man in the rafters. Although, I don't recall looking up. Maybe he was there, and I didn't notice," Mara said.

"You are lying!" he screamed, slapping down the other hand. "Are you saying your buddy, Mr. Ping, did not call 9-1-1 to report Mr. Johnson was being held in the Gamble garage?" Veins protruded from his neck, streaked across his cheeks, and crisscrossed his temple and forehead. Sweat dripped from his ears and chin. His head twitched sideways, slinging off droplets. His pupils rolled up into his eyelids, and he began panting, in quick, hoa.r.s.e bursts.

Mara looked to Bohannon for help. The detective placed a hand on Suter's shoulder. His breathing calmed, and his pupils reappeared.

"Well, Ms. Lantern?" Suter asked, acting as if nothing happened.

"I'm not aware of Mr. Ping calling anyone." She almost elaborated, stopped herself.

"Ms. Lantern, I promise you, if you do not begin cooperating, there will be serious consequences." Suter reached into his jacket.

Bohannon tensed. He placed his hand on Suter's arm with affected casualness and said, "I think we've got about as much information from Ms. Lantern as we are going to get. Why don't we wrap this up for now?"

Mara's eyes widened, and she braced herself against the edge of the table as the two men tensed up in a strange tug-of-war, their arms taunt and pressing against each other. After a few seconds of a strained clench, Suter relaxed his arm and stopped reaching into his jacket. Bohannon relented as well.

Suter backhanded him in the face.

The detective flew out of his chair and into the wall, where he crumpled to the floor.

Mara pushed her chair from the table, moving out of Suter's reach. The FBI agent jumped to his feet, overturning his chair, and leaned across the table, his shoulders hunched, readying to pounce.

His irises were yellow.

The pupils had narrowed to slits. His eyes flicked back and forth, vibrating in their sockets. Each moved independently. His chin jutted, and his head snapped back. His throat bulged, crunching something in his neck. He emitted a wet gag that morphed into a moan and then into a full, deep growl. Sweat oozed from his pores, appeared to coagulate and cling to his skin. It sloughed off as spasms wracked his frame.

He fell forward, bracing himself over the table. The crown of his head rippled and stretched, shedding hair that fell into globs of perspiration that had puddled on the tabletop. A ridge of gray bone emerged from his skull, bisecting it from forehead to base, tearing through his skin, sending cascades of blood down the sides of his face. He twitched again, shaking loose flaps of skin that peeled away his features. His ears, nose and lips fell away. The gore hung loosely from his neck and jaw.

"Don't move!" Bohannon slid up the wall, pointing his gun at Suter. "One move and I'll shoot."

Suter jerked his head sideways, gazed directly at the detective. A long tongue snaked from FBI man's mouth, flicked at the air. He hissed, spit.

The gun in Bohannon's hand began to smoke, then glow red. He dropped it and rubbed his scalded hand against his chest. He retreated along the wall.

Suter stood between him and the door.

Growling and grunting, he slung gore throughout the room. His skin flaps fell onto the table with a wet slap. His cheeks puffed out, and his jaw slid back and forth. He paused and then spit out a tooth. Leaning forward, he opened his mouth. The rest of his teeth fell out, clicking and clattering across the table.

He craned his head upward, locked onto Mara with those yellow-slitted eyes. Gray-green scales glistened, crackled like wet leather as an eyebrow, now a bony ridge, lifted. The lipless mouth, a rictuslike gash that reached around his skull, opened just enough to flick his split tongue two feet into the air. What used to be Suter emitted an exotic hiss, broken up by a rhythmic, wet clicking noise that came from exhaling gill slits along his neck.

"You were there, on the flight," Mara said.

"I was." He stalked Bohannon on his side of the table, though he did not take his eyes off Mara.

"What do you want?" she said.

"I have what I want. Now all we need is time." Hissing and flicking his tongue, he turned to face Bohannon.

"Lord, have mercy," the detective said, dodging backward, then jumping forward, feigning an attack, hoping to push Suter away from the door.

The FBI agent stood his ground, opened his mouth and spewed flames.

Bohannon's midsection was engulfed. His clothes ignited. He fell to the floor screaming. Smoke and flames leaped up from below the far side of the table.

Mara grabbed her water bottle and uncapped it. Realizing it would be inadequate, she looked around for something to douse the flames. Suter snarled and swiped at her with a crusty wet claw. She jumped backward, collided with her chair and fell into the floor. Smoke poured over her from under the table. She could barely see the ceiling tiles and the sprinkler heads in the ceiling above. Her eyes widened. She grabbed the edge of her chair and pulled herself up.

She stared at the three sprinkler heads on the far side of the table, and they erupted with a circular spray that covered most of the room, but flames still shot up from the floor. It wasn't enough. Mara concentrated again. The spray intensified, became so strong that water cascaded down from the ceiling in a sheet, then a deluge. Water splashed up from the floor and a wave washed under the table, lapping at Mara's shins, knocking the chairs on her side of the table against the wall behind her. Steam and smoke wafted up to the ceiling.

Mara jumped onto her chair, using it as a step onto the table. Nearly a foot of water sloshed on the floor.

A cloud of smoke parted, and the door across the room caught her eye. Suter, following her gaze, leaped onto the wall, adhering to it as easily as walking across the floor. Like a man-size salamander, he scampered to cover the door with his body, blocking Mara's escape. Facing downward, he twisted his head more than 180 degrees to flash a threatening glare, punctuated with a flick of tongue. He dismounted to the floor, landing on his feet with a splash without looking away. He edged toward the table.

"You appear to be learning, Ms. Lantern, but I prefer Fire to Water," Suter said. He snorted a little flame from a nostril and rolled his shoulders. He leaned on the table again. Gray bony quills shot out of his spine, tearing away his suit coat, forming a sail down his back. The spines smoldered and glowed. Flames jumped from quill to quill along his back. The room sweltered, steam rose from the floor. A water bottle on the table burst, and the cheap venetian blinds sagged. For a moment, more daylight spilled into room until condensation fogged the windows. A cloud of steam gathered at the ceiling, thickened around Mara's head.

She crouched as Suter spat flame into the growing cloud. She backed to the edge of the table and was about to step down onto her chair when a tentacle of vapor reached down from the cloud, wrapped itself around her torso and pulled her into the air. Her feet dangled six inches above the table. Another tentacle grabbed her right wrist, a third wrapped around her left and pulled her arms upward. Bound and suspended above the table she could not move.

"You are less of a challenge than I had antic.i.p.ated. It's difficult to believe you are a progenitor," Suter said, spitting another lick of flame into the cloud.

A fourth tentacle descended, snaked around Mara's neck. Suter's features faded in the steam. The tentacle constricted around her throat. She could no longer breathe. Stars flared on the edges of her vision, a dark blur pressed in, growing darker until she could see nothing but blackness and one point of light.

She refused to let go of the light. She focused on it, willed it to burst forth and drive away the darkness.

Ping and Sam waited in the Camry. Sam took an after-lunch nap while Ping looked over final inspection reports for the bakery. He paused for a minute to look at his watch and up at the office building. He wondered if the investigators planned to keep Mara overnight-when the building exploded.

Shattered gla.s.s and debris blossomed from the sides of the office building, sending a wave of gravel, followed by billowing clouds of dust and smoke, across the parking lot. A film of grime settled on the windshield. Ping cracked his door to see if the shockwave had pa.s.sed, if it was safe to get out. Sam woke up.

"Whoa, what happened?" he said rubbing his eyes.

"I don't know. You stay here, and I'll go check on Mara." Ping opened the door all the way.

"Maybe I can help. Let me come along."

"No. If I'm not back in five minutes, come find us. Mara said she was in the fifth room on the left in that hallway. That is where I am going. You stay put." Ping gave him a stern look and jumped out, slamming the door.