Actually she was pleased with her purchases and after selecting a table near the window and ordering today’s special of roast chicken and trimmings, she took a notebook out of her purse and started listing all the things she would need to buy before the baby’s arrival. She had been to enough baby showers since settling in New York to be aware of the basics and the list soon filled a couple pages. When she finished what she could eat of the generous plate of dinner, she left the restaurant feeling satisfied. She felt she was finally taking responsibility for managing her life and although the list was only a small step, it was an important first step.
Karen woke up Sunday morning late, and in a rotten mood. She had to hustle to get down for breakfast before they stopped serving. There were only three women still at the table. They each smiled and nodded, apparently having a glorious morning. The older woman, who was especially chirpy, said, “Did you see that darling baby boutique in the village? They had just the most precious things.” She smiled as if she expected credit for detecting the cause for Karen’s bulging stomach.
Karen forced herself to respond. After all, the woman wasn’t to blame for Karen’s nightmares all night. She nodded. “I did. In fact I couldn’t resist making a couple of purchases. Who would have thought they would have such a nice selection in such a remote place?”
That was enough encouragement for the women with her. They immediately launched into a discussion of the best shops in New York to buy baby presents. It seemed that one of their daughters was expecting and apparently the woman had already bought out the town. Actually, the conversation was a distraction for Karen and it wasn’t long until she dug into her purse and extracted her list so she could jot down the names of a couple of the stores they were especially enthused about, thinking it would help her find the things she needed. Finally, the women finished their coffee and took themselves off for the day. Karen helped herself to a refill of herbal tea and took it out to a rocking chair on the porch.
It was a beautiful day. Truly, today felt as if spring was here to stay. The sunshine was warm with a gentle breeze which wafted through the newly sprouted leaves. It was pleasant sitting there sipping tea, while watching the world pass by. Gradually, the terror of last night’s nightmare slipped away and she felt she could think about that event earlier in the week calmly. First, she examined why she thought the incident in the subway had been a deliberate attempt to kill her.
Well, maybe because it almost killed me, she told herself. And she could still feel the way those hands felt on her back when that mighty shove pushed her forward. It hardly felt like an accident.
She shuddered. Thank God for that man standing next to her. He not only noticed what was happening, but he acted fast enough to snatch her back from what would have been sure death. And, she realized, she hadn’t even thanked him properly.
She shook that worry off, remembering the concern on his face before he disappeared into the crowd in the subway car. He knew. He was well aware that he saved her life. She could visualize him telling his wife over dinner how he saved the life of some ditzy pregnant woman who stumbled, or fainted, and was falling right in front of the arriving train when he pulled her back to safety.
Thank God he was there.
She watched a bee flitting about in the tree at the edge of the porch. Finally, she allowed herself to admit the real reason she felt someone tried to kill her. It was probably the reason someone was chasing her through her dreams last night. It was all the result of that distressing and sudden meeting with Scott.
* * *
Two weeks ago on Tuesday it looked like spring would never arrive. It was cold and blustery and threatening rain. In fact, it felt as if it might even snow. It was late afternoon and Mark Irving, Karen’s boss, was attending a two-day conference at the Algonquin. And as usual he needed her presence to assist him in preparing for the presentation he was giving. Usually, she enjoyed the opportunity to be out of the office for a day or two, but today she was exhausted. It had been a particularly difficult day. It seemed like Mark kept finding more tasks for her to do, and mostly he wanted them all done at the same time.
And it was such a glum day, as if winter was starting all over again. Worse, her pregnancy was starting to weigh on her. Anyway, at four o’clock the conference was breaking up and Mark decided to go down to the bar for drinks with some of the other participants. In a moment of generosity he told Karen to go home for the day instead of going back to the office as usual. That was a welcome order.
She headed out of the hotel through the beautiful and historic lobby already thinking about picking up an order of Chinese fried rice to take home for dinner when something caught her eye across the lobby. She glanced that way and then froze in place.
It was him. Scott!
There was a stunningly glamorous woman attached to his arm and he was smiling down on her, just as he used to smile at Karen. There was something about the proprietary hold she had on his arm, the confident way she smiled up at him that made Karen certain she was his wife. They were walking toward her and in a panic she looked around for somewhere to hide, but she really couldn’t move. She prayed he wouldn’t look up.
Suddenly, with a burst of anger she remembered she had nothing to be ashamed of. She had not knowingly wronged this woman. If anything, they were both victims of that scum so adoringly holding her arm lest she stumble.
Karen boldly stared at Scott and, as if feeling the malevolence of her gaze, he looked up, straight into her eyes. At first his eyes lit with pleasure and a smile started to pull at his lips, then she saw the shock freeze his face as he remembered who she was. His eyes traveled down her body and lingered on the bulge of her stomach, the eyes turned grey with anger, his face froze with an expression of fury. Karen stepped back under the force of that look. She suddenly realized she was seeing a look that could kill.
He must have given a start because his wife looked up at him with a question, and then seeing his expression her eyes swept around the room, trying to locate the source of his anger. She turned to him again with an urgent question, but he shook his head and Karen saw him pull himself together and smile lovingly down at her. That’s when she saw what an actor he was. No wonder she hadn’t had a clue about the lies he told her. He had missed his calling; he would have been marvelous on the big screen.
They continued walking toward her and swept by without even looking in her direction. She watched them exit imperially through the door, and pause while the doorman raised his arm to summon a taxi for them. He helped them in and Karen watched numbly as the taxi pulled out into traffic.
Then she turned and approached the front desk. She asked to be connected to the room belonging to Scott Hutchins. The clerk checked and then shook his head sorrowfully, reporting that no one was registered under that name.
Suddenly she was furious. She should have confronted him when she had a chance. But then she calmed herself, admitting she had no reason to confront him, she really had nothing to say to him, other than to vent her rage. And she admitted his angry glare had frightened her. She thought it was best to stay well away from him.
But that incident rattled her. She didn’t stop at the Chinese restaurant. Instead she took a taxi home and had a Lean Cuisine dinner. She told herself it was over. She no longer had to concern herself with Scott Hutchins, or whoever he was. He was a part of her life that was over. Gone! Finished!
And except for a pink phone message waiting for her when she returned to the office the next day saying, “You broke your promise,” and signed S, she heard nothing more. But when she felt those hands on her back on the subway platform, she was immediately certain it was another message from Scott.
CHAPTER 4
Of course it was an accident. Karen shook her head at her own stupidity. How could she have been so sure someone was trying to kill her? That was absurd. She sat on the porch a while longer examining her reasoning from every which way. She was now prepared to accept that she was being a little
paranoid by blaming Scott for what happened in the subway. The whole incident was obviously just an accident. Someone hurrying toward the train behind her had tripped and put out their hands to stop their fall and inadvertently pushed her. And really, after the man next to her caught her and settled her back to the platform, the train doors opened and everyone rushed forward to get on the train. The mini drama was over and there had been no time for anyone to apologize for the incident. The truth was, no matter how frightened she had been, nothing had happened. She wasn’t hurt.
That line of thought was comforting. Relieved, she got up off the porch, took her empty mug back into the house and then gathered a sweater and her wallet and headed off for a walk.
During the rest of the day she made up her mind to talk to her boss as soon as she got back to work. It was time. She needed to understand exactly what kind of maternity benefits the company offered. And she intended to ask Mark if he would commit to hold her job for her if she took minimal time off. She knew the company was legally required to hold her job, but she didn’t think it had to be the same job. But she knew Mark would hate having to train someone else to assist him as competently as she was able to do, so he might be willing to do without her for a few weeks rather than replace her. And she could continue to live in her apartment until the child was bigger. So if she could find affordable child care in her neighborhood, this situation was doable.
By the late afternoon, while she had dinner at another restaurant in town, she had progressed to thinking about names for the child. She was thinking about Kylee for a girl and for a boy she was undecided wavering between Jack David, for her father or Matthew Karl for her grandfather. She found it exciting to be able to make that decision herself. She was realizing the power of motherhood. The baby would be her responsibility, someone to love and take care of. It was an awesome thought even though the responsibility was frightening.
She slept very well that night probably due to finally taking steps to plan for the baby, or maybe just because she slept so poorly the previous night. But now she had a plan. She had some action steps defined which would get her through this situation.
No one was at the breakfast table in the morning, although she saw another couple checking out just as she came downstairs. She hurried through breakfast, now anxious to go home so she could start rearranging her life to prepare for the baby.
It was another beautiful day. New York sparkled in the clean air and the sunshine, and she felt good. She realized taking some time away to get her head sorted out had been just the right thing to do. She was energized and ready to tackle the tasks she had identified to help her manage the changes coming in her life. When she reached the city she decided to splurge on a taxi. At her corner she handed the driver the fare, wrestled her wheelie bag to the curb, leaned over to pull up the handle and then turned to cross the street to her building.
She froze in her tracks. Where she expected to see her building, she saw a temporary chain link fence, rooted in blocks of cement, enclosing the blackened remains of a destroyed building. The third floor, her floor, wasn’t even there. She sagged against the handle of the wheelie bag, gasping, trying to breathe as her brain struggled to take in what her eyes saw. Her apartment was gone! The building was destroyed.
She didn’t know how long she stood staring at the ruins before turning away to trudge down the street. As she passed a newsstand, she suddenly came awake. She realized a newspaper was just what she needed. She paid for a paper and tucked it under her arm. In the next block she found a coffee shop and secured a table. She ordered a glass of milk and an order of wheat toast and started looking through the paper. She found the article, a small one, tucked into a space on next to the last page in the second section.
Six Die in Apartment Explosion
Friday night at approximately 11:30 p.m. a mysterious explosion occurred in an apartment on the third floor of a building in Midtown. The resulting fire was so intense several tenants on the upper floor were unable to escape, resulting in six known fatalities. Four other occupants were injured, one seriously, and were taken to the hospital. Twelve tenants, including the building superintendant were taken to shelters. Police are seeking information on four residents still missing.
One of the rescued tenants reported there seemed to be a party going on in one third floor apartment when the explosion occurred. Fire Marshals are investigating the cause as well as searching the ruins for additional remains. Names of victims are being withheld pending notification of next of kin. Anyone with information can call....
She tried to eat a bite of toast, but was afraid she wouldn’t be able to keep it down so she spit it out. She drank a couple of sips of milk and then noticing the lunch crowd starting to drift in, folded the paper, stowed it in her purse, put a few bills on the table and left. Once more on the street she paused, confused. She didn’t know what to do. She had no idea where to go.
A loud voice in her head screamed, “THEY TRIED TO KILL YOU!”
Of course she realized it hadn’t come out of nowhere; it was her own brain warning her. She needed to think clearly. She needed to do something because, sure as she was standing there, they would likely be more successful with their next attempt.
She stood in front of the coffee shop, ignoring the people veering around her.
Someone tried to kill her and perhaps thought they had.
She needed to hide. She had to put some distance between her and whoever was responsible for the explosion. She methodically thought about what she had with her. She had some money, but it wouldn’t be enough. She had her bankbook, which she had grabbed before she left in case she wanted to write a check at the bed and breakfast instead of using her credit card. And she had her address book, and her wallet. She even had her passport which she always carried in her purse hoping she might have a sudden chance to use it. Now, she realized her wheelie bag held all her worldly goods. Every other thing she owned had been in her apartment. Everything there was gone. Her purse, the wheelie bag and what she wore was everything she owned. It wasn’t much.
The money she had left from her weekend wouldn’t take her far, so first on her agenda had to be to go to the bank. She remembered the money Scott sent her, which was still in her checking account. She hadn’t touched any of it. In fact, while she had never had any intentions of spending it, she now considered it might be appropriate to use it to elude him and his cohorts who, she once more believed, were trying to kill her.
She flagged a cab and instructed the driver to take her to her bank. It was a big branch on the Avenue of the Americas, not far from where she worked.
She signed a check in front of the teller and handed it to her.
“Cash?” The woman looked shocked.
She nodded. “Yes please, hundreds except for two hundred in smaller bills.”
The teller took her check and her passport to consult with a supervisor and the supervisor came to the window. “This is a very large amount to carry in cash, Miss Rallins. I would be happy to authorize a cashier’s check be issued at no fee to insure your safety while transporting it.” She smiled, certain she was delivering happy news.
Karen shook her head. “No thanks. I would like cash, please.”
Both women looked displeased.
“Is there a problem with cash?” Karen asked, politely, but firmly.
“No, of course not. It’s just that it’s very risky walking around with that much cash. You never know what will happen. This is New York, after all.”
“I appreciate your concern. But don’t you think it will be much safer for me if you don’t make a big deal out of this transaction? That way the other customers are less apt to notice how much money I’m taking with me.”
The women stared at her a moment, then even though the supervisor shook her head in a disapproving way at Karen’s insistence, “Yes, of course,” she murmured. “Please step over to the end there and I’ll count the money out to you in a more private space.” The woman t
urned to the teller with instructions and then headed down to the end of the teller line.
Karen walked down to a door where a buzzer sounded allowing her entry into a small room isolated from the other teller windows. The supervisor unlocked the teller drawers, made some entries into the computer terminal on the counter and then started pulling money out of a cupboard under the counter.
“This withdrawal leaves a balance in your account of two thousand, one hundred and sixty-three dollars and forty-six cents.”
Karen nodded. She had decided to keep the account open, so had elected to leave some of the money. She thought it looked more like a normal transaction and it would prevent questions she didn’t want to take the time to answer.
“You know, frequently when people ask for large cash withdrawals like this, we find they are victims of scams to steal their money,” the woman said brightly. “Sometimes they’re approached by someone with a deal that sounds too good to be true and usually it is too good to be true. But always the perpetrators want cash. We try to warn people....”
“I understand. I appreciate your concern. But I want the cash for a specific purpose. It’s my money and I can withdraw it anyway I wish, can’t I?” Karen said firmly.
“Of course you can.” The woman nodded. “But you know for this amount of cash I have to make a report on the transaction, which goes to the Treasury Department.”
“Do whatever you need to do....” Karen would not be swayed.
Unable to talk Karen out of taking cash, the woman carefully counted out two strapped packets of hundred dollar bills and one strapped packet of fifties. She then added twenty-five more hundreds and ten twenties. “There you go, twenty-seven thousand and seven hundred dollars, even.”
Claire Gulliver #06 - Carnage Goes Coastal Page 3