Page 26 of Secret Agent Santa

“Since that’s my office, that’ll work. You don’t mind if my fiancé joins us, do you?”

The agents exchanged a glance that made the hair on the back of his neck quiver.

“No.”

Claire swung open the door and ushered them all inside the small, feminine office. The seat in the bay window sported rose-colored cushions, and Mike sat in a chair with such spindly legs, he had a feeling that it would collapse beneath him at any moment.

The agents in the chairs facing Claire’s ornate desk must’ve felt the same way, as they perched on the edges of their seats.

Claire folded her hands in front of her, the rings on her fingers sparkling beneath the desk lamp. “What can I help you with?”

Glotz placed a folder on the desk, flipped it open and positioned a photograph in front of Claire. “Do you recognize this man, Mrs. Chadwick?”

Mike craned his neck over the shoulders of the agents but only got a glimpse of a young, dark-skinned man.

“It’s Ms. Chadwick, and yes, I do recognize him. And you know I recognize him or you wouldn’t be uncomfortably shifting in those Louis Quinze chairs staring at me.”

Mike gulped, his stomach twisting into a knot. Had Claire been keeping secrets from him?

Glotz tapped the picture. “Can you tell us who he is, Ms. Chadwick?”

She snorted. “You know who he is. The question is, why are you asking me about him?”

Agent Finnegan hunched forward in his chair, his face red up to the line of his gray hair. “Tell us his name, Ms. Chadwick.”

Mike cleared his throat. “Claire?”

She held up a hand. “It’s okay, Mitch. This man is Hamid Khan.”

“And you’ve been in contact with him?” Glotz’s calm tone contrasted with his partner’s aggressive one.

Good cop, bad cop, but why were they playing this game with Claire?

“Lately? Have I been in contact with him lately? No.”

“You’ve contacted him before.” Finnegan jabbed a stubby finger in Claire’s direction.

“Agent Finnegan...” Mike half rose from his chair, his hands curling into fists.

Glotz cast an apologetic half smile in his direction. “We don’t have a problem with your presence, Mr. Brown, but please don’t interfere with our questioning.”

Mike spluttered. He could be a protective fiancé, but not someone overly knowledgeable about FBI procedures. “Does Claire need a lawyer? I don’t like this questioning.”

“I’m fine, babe.” She picked up the picture with both hands. “I contacted Hamid when I was looking into my husband’s execution at the hands of terrorists. Why are you asking me about him now?”

“Hamid Khan was the man posing as a valet parking attendant at your party the other night. We have a composite sketch from witnesses.”

Claire dropped the picture, and Mike sat up in his chair to try to get a look at the man again. He didn’t know any Hamid Khan, but why in the hell had Claire been in contact with terrorists?

She recovered herself and folded her hands on top of the photo. “That’s impossible. I had been in touch with Hamid because of his uncle, but Hamid was no extremist. He was studying to be an engineer and wanted no part of his uncle’s radicalism. I was able to get him into the US on a student visa, but that’s as far as it went.”

Finnegan pinched the picture between the tips of his blunt fingers and slid it from beneath Claire’s hands. “Maybe then, but this is now.”

“I don’t believe it for a minute. I would’ve...” She stopped and huffed out a breath. “I would’ve known if he was someone capable of this—he wasn’t.”

Mike’s muscles tensed. She was going to spill the beans about seeing the valet from the library window. These guys would’ve been even more suspicious than they were now if they discovered she’d lied about seeing anything from that window.

Glotz slid the photo from his partner’s possession and put it back in the folder. “You’re not going anywhere in the near future, are you, Ms. Chadwick?”

“No.”

“If we—” Glotz steepled his fingers “—came back with a search warrant for any computers you own, that wouldn’t be a problem, would it?”

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