Authors: Mary Higgins Clark
Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Anthologies (Multiple Authors)
Stillwatch (28 page)
You must hide, Arthur.
“But where?” He realized he had spoken aloud. The woman in theseat ahead of him turned and glanced back.
Three Thousand N Street
, the voices whispered.
Go there, Arthur.Go in the window again. Think about the closet.
The image of the closet in the unused bedroom filled his mind. Hewould be warm and safe concealed behind the rows of shelves in thatcloset. The lights were on in the theater and he stood up quickly. Hemust not draw attention to himself. He would go to another movienow and another after that. By then it would be dark. Where better tospend the hours until the broadcast tomorrow evening than in PatriciaTraymore’s own home? No one would dream of looking for him there.
She must have her chance to be exonerated, Arthur. You must notbe too hasty.
The words swirled in the air above his head. “Iunderstand,” he said. If there was no reference to Glory on theprogram, Patricia Traymore would never know that he had beenstaying with her. But if Glory was shown and identified, Patricia wouldbe punished by the angels.He would light the avenging torch.
Tribune
. Do you want to see it now?”“Yes, I think so.”Five minutes later, in angry disbelief, Lila was reading the GinaButterfield spread. Fifteen minutes later, she was ringing Pat’sdoorbell. With dismay she realized Pat had been weeping. “There’ssomething I have to show you,” she explained.They went into the library. Lila laid the paper on the table andopened it. She watched as Pat saw the headline and the color drainedfrom her face.Helplessly Pat skimmed the copy, glanced at the pictures. “MyGod, it makes me sound as though I was blabbing about the break-in,the Senator, this house,
everything.
Lila, I can’t tell you how upsetthey’ll all be. Luther Pelham had every single picture of my motherand father edited out of the old films. He didn’t want any connectionbetween the Senator and, I quote him, ‘the Adams mess.’ It’s as thoughthere’s a force in action I can’t stop. I don’t know whether to try toexplain, to resign or what.” She tried to hold back angry tears.Lila began to fold the newspaper. “I can’t advise you about thejob, but I can tell you that you must not look at this again, Kerry. I
Tribune
story aboutthe murder-suicide.
what?
Pat, sit down. You look as though you’re going tofaint. I’ll get you a glass of water.” Lila hurried from the room.Pat leaned her head against the back of the couch and closed her eyes.When she had looked up the newspaper accounts of the tragedy, she hadseen the pictures of the bodies being carried out; of herself, bandagedand bloody on the stretcher. But seeing them juxtaposed against those ofthe smiling, apparently carefree young couples was worse. She didn’tremember reading that quote from the police chief. Maybe she hadn’tseen the issue in which it appeared. But it proved that whoever hadthreatened her knew who she was, had known her then.Lila came back. She had filled a glass with cold water.“I’m all right,” Pat said. “Lila, the night someone broke in here,he didn’t just leave a note.” She tugged at the carton to try to get itout from under the library table. It was wedged in so tightly that itwouldn’t budge. I can’t believe I jammed it in like this, Pat thought.As she struggled, she told Lila about finding the doll.Shocked, Lila absorbed what she was hearing. The intruder hadleft a bloodied doll against the fireplace? Pat was in danger here. Shehad sensed it all along. She was still in danger.
Isn’t yourreal name Eleanor Brown? Why did you violate parole? How longdid you think you could get away with it?
Detective Barrott came over to her. He had a frank, chubby facewith sandy hair that curled around his ears. His eyes were inquisitivebut not unfriendly. She realized he was about her own age, and somehowhe seemed a little less frightening than the scornful detective who hadquestioned her after the money was found in her storage room.“Miss Stevens? Don’t be nervous. I wonder if I could speak toyou privately?”“We could go in here.” She led the way into Mr. Schuller ’s smallprivate office. There were two leather chairs in front of Mr. Schuller ’sdesk. She sat in one of them and the detective settled in the other.“You looked scared,” he said kindly. “You have nothing to worryabout. We just want to talk to your dad. Do you know where we canreach him?”
Talk to her dad Father!
She swallowed. “When I left for work hewas home. He probably went to the bakery.”“He didn’t come back. Maybe when he saw the police car in frontof your house, he decided not to. Do you think he might be withsome relatives or friends?”
“But where?” He realized he had spoken aloud. The woman in theseat ahead of him turned and glanced back.
Three Thousand N Street
, the voices whispered.
Go there, Arthur.Go in the window again. Think about the closet.
The image of the closet in the unused bedroom filled his mind. Hewould be warm and safe concealed behind the rows of shelves in thatcloset. The lights were on in the theater and he stood up quickly. Hemust not draw attention to himself. He would go to another movienow and another after that. By then it would be dark. Where better tospend the hours until the broadcast tomorrow evening than in PatriciaTraymore’s own home? No one would dream of looking for him there.
She must have her chance to be exonerated, Arthur. You must notbe too hasty.
The words swirled in the air above his head. “Iunderstand,” he said. If there was no reference to Glory on theprogram, Patricia Traymore would never know that he had beenstaying with her. But if Glory was shown and identified, Patricia wouldbe punished by the angels.He would light the avenging torch.
Tribune
. Do you want to see it now?”“Yes, I think so.”Five minutes later, in angry disbelief, Lila was reading the GinaButterfield spread. Fifteen minutes later, she was ringing Pat’sdoorbell. With dismay she realized Pat had been weeping. “There’ssomething I have to show you,” she explained.They went into the library. Lila laid the paper on the table andopened it. She watched as Pat saw the headline and the color drainedfrom her face.Helplessly Pat skimmed the copy, glanced at the pictures. “MyGod, it makes me sound as though I was blabbing about the break-in,the Senator, this house,
everything.
Lila, I can’t tell you how upsetthey’ll all be. Luther Pelham had every single picture of my motherand father edited out of the old films. He didn’t want any connectionbetween the Senator and, I quote him, ‘the Adams mess.’ It’s as thoughthere’s a force in action I can’t stop. I don’t know whether to try toexplain, to resign or what.” She tried to hold back angry tears.Lila began to fold the newspaper. “I can’t advise you about thejob, but I can tell you that you must not look at this again, Kerry. I
Tribune
story aboutthe murder-suicide.
what?
Pat, sit down. You look as though you’re going tofaint. I’ll get you a glass of water.” Lila hurried from the room.Pat leaned her head against the back of the couch and closed her eyes.When she had looked up the newspaper accounts of the tragedy, she hadseen the pictures of the bodies being carried out; of herself, bandagedand bloody on the stretcher. But seeing them juxtaposed against those ofthe smiling, apparently carefree young couples was worse. She didn’tremember reading that quote from the police chief. Maybe she hadn’tseen the issue in which it appeared. But it proved that whoever hadthreatened her knew who she was, had known her then.Lila came back. She had filled a glass with cold water.“I’m all right,” Pat said. “Lila, the night someone broke in here,he didn’t just leave a note.” She tugged at the carton to try to get itout from under the library table. It was wedged in so tightly that itwouldn’t budge. I can’t believe I jammed it in like this, Pat thought.As she struggled, she told Lila about finding the doll.Shocked, Lila absorbed what she was hearing. The intruder hadleft a bloodied doll against the fireplace? Pat was in danger here. Shehad sensed it all along. She was still in danger.
Isn’t yourreal name Eleanor Brown? Why did you violate parole? How longdid you think you could get away with it?
Detective Barrott came over to her. He had a frank, chubby facewith sandy hair that curled around his ears. His eyes were inquisitivebut not unfriendly. She realized he was about her own age, and somehowhe seemed a little less frightening than the scornful detective who hadquestioned her after the money was found in her storage room.“Miss Stevens? Don’t be nervous. I wonder if I could speak toyou privately?”“We could go in here.” She led the way into Mr. Schuller ’s smallprivate office. There were two leather chairs in front of Mr. Schuller ’sdesk. She sat in one of them and the detective settled in the other.“You looked scared,” he said kindly. “You have nothing to worryabout. We just want to talk to your dad. Do you know where we canreach him?”
Talk to her dad Father!
She swallowed. “When I left for work hewas home. He probably went to the bakery.”“He didn’t come back. Maybe when he saw the police car in frontof your house, he decided not to. Do you think he might be withsome relatives or friends?”
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