Nowhere to Run Read Free Page B

television as a distraction from how miserable she was feeling. The fever was getting worse. But it would pass, surely it would pass. Her immune system wasn’t all it should be. She could count on getting sick several times over the winter months. Cleaning all those houses and being exposed to everybody’s germs contributed to her illnesses, but she had no choice. She had to make a living somehow.
    Actually, she liked all her jobs. The people she cleaned for were usually at their own jobs and their children were in school when she came to vacuum, dust, and polish their homes. She could work at her own speed, with no one watching over her shoulder. It suited her just fine.
    Sometimes, though, as she iced her sore back or sat in a hot tub at night to warm the ache out of her bones, she wondered how long she could go on doing housework. After all, she was fifty-eight years old. But with no husband or children and no Social Security to look forward to, she had to depend on her savings to support her in her old age. She took any extra work she could get to add money to her retirement account.
    Last week, she had overdone it. Now she was paying for it. Yes, that was it. She’d taken on three extra cleaning jobs, shifting her schedule around to fit them all in. By the time she got to Mr. Henning’s house on Saturday, she had been exhausted. Fortunately, the bachelor was quite neat and there wasn’t much to do at his place compared with the other houses, the ones with children. Mr. Henning was fastidious. She’d noticed he even threw out his birthday cards right away, not keeping them propped up on a table for weeks as she would. She found several cards on top of the kitchen trash, and another one in the basket near his desk. That one had been messy; tiny silver confetti sprinkled out when she opened it to see who it was from.
    It was nice to think that Mr. Henning had a secret admirer. He should be married with a family of his own. After all, Mr. Henning had a good job. He worked at KEY News, deciding which authors and books were featured on the network’s morning program. Clara liked to watch KEY to America to see if she’d spot his name on the credits at the end of the show. But this morning’s show was too depressing. All this talk about anthrax and weapons of mass destruction only made her feel worse.
    She pushed herself up to turn off the television set but sank back against the pillow, her breathing labored. Clara worried about all the work she was missing as she sank into unconsciousness.

Chapter 4
    As Annabelle approached the Broadcast Center, lights flashed from the large blue-and-white HAZMAT truck and the police squad cars that were parked at the curb. Annabelle flashed her KEY ID to get past the bright yellow police tape that cordoned off the sidewalk.
    “Is it all right to go inside?” she asked the uniformed officer who guarded the heavy revolving door. Those hazardous-material guys with their bubble suits were intimidating.
    “You go in at your own risk, lady, but we think it’s all right. The studio is closed off while it’s checked out. So is that clown Dr. Lee’s office. Some doctor.” He shook his head in disgust.
    Annabelle could understand the cop’s reaction. In fact, she shared it. She knew John Lee and was sure his motive for bringing that anthrax into the studio wasn’t the altruistic one of informing the nation that weapons of mass destruction were available for the taking. Lee wanted the attention, the acclaim, the notoriety this stunt would bring. And from the look of things, he was getting his wish. Camera crews from ABC, CBS, NBC, and CNN were clustered on the sidewalk.
    Taking a deep breath, Annabelle pushed through the revolving door.
    The portable coffee-and-Danish trolley that was set up in the lobby each morning was strangely absent, and the hallways were quieter than usual. Had employees seen Lee’s segment on the morning show and decided to stay home?
    Annabelle took the