“Takes one to know one,” Richards said softly to Eric’s retreating back. It annoyed Richards that the mall was already full of plainclothes police and his own security people. What could possibly go wrong? There wasn’t so much as a hint of anything out of the ordinary. If the amount of packages and shopping bags the customers were carrying were any indication, then his projections were on target.
Spend, spend, spend, he thought happily as he made his way to the make-believe North Pole where the parade was to start. It really was a stroke of genius on his part to agree to feature Nick Anastasios, a real grandfather and a genuinely kind man, to play this year’s Santa. Nick was going to get a healthy bonus.
Maybe if everything went off well he would give his helper, that big lug named Charlie, a much smaller bonus. It did pay to show gratitude from time to time. Just look at the two of them. Richards grinned.
Santa was ho-ho-ho-ing with all his might. He waved his arms to signal that the parade was about to begin, then climbed into his sleigh with a boost from Charlie. Wheels camouflaged by white bunting, the sleigh was pulled by eight robust college boys dressed in reindeer costumes. Santa tossed out candy canes as the sleigh cruised through the mall. “Ho, ho, ho,” he shouted to one and all. “Be good, boys and girls, and I won’t forget you.”
The laughing, wide-eyed children scrambled to pick up the brightly wrapped coloring books and boxes of crayons Charlie was tossing from the back. Digital flashes blazed as the newspaper reporters snapped pictures. Charlie knew good old Nick Anastasios would be on the front page of the second section of the morning paper, and he hoped that he would be in the background, blurred.
He didn’t want to be mercilessly teased by the maintenance guys for trying to get noticed. He still hated them, though Angela’s presence in his life had made him forget all about his resentments for a time. Charlie frowned, puzzled by the way his mind seemed to split sometimes. It was as if there were two of him—a robot, more or less, who worked at the mall, and the human Charlie, hiding from life in his shabby house.
The strained faces of the police and security details were not lost on Charlie as he accompanied the sleigh and Santa through the mall. He felt the urge to tell them to relax and not to worry. After all, bomb threats were nothing new.
And everything had changed.
Before Angela, he’d felt more than angry enough to blow up the damn mall. The plan seemed irrational now. Two nights with her in his house and his grudges and hidden rage had dissolved. And it was all due to her—his first and only friend. Because of Angela he wasn’t lonely anymore, and he even had hope. Life could be good.
Not that he was going to confess or something like that. He hadn’t done anything.
He looked at the big clock above that was wreathed in fake holly with sparkly red berries. He’d overheard that the threat specified a time limit—exactly what had Joe said? Seventy-two hours.
Charlie did the mental calculations, more or less accurately—the hubbub and distractions made his mind wander. Okay, he had it. The time would be up in another hour or so, and the mall would still be standing. Meantime, everyone who knew of the threat would just have to sweat it out. He chuckled again. He was almost sorry for their agitation. Almost but not quite. It wouldn’t hurt them to be agitated for a while longer. He had been in a constant state of agitation all his life. Now it was their turn.
He dragged a hand over his brow, wiping away a few drops that threatened to trickle into his eyes. Weird—he was sweating, too, for no good reason. Had they turned up the temperature in the mall or what? Why did he feel burning hot all of a sudden? For a few moments the ranks and rows of brilliant Christmas trees with their winking lights and bright tinsel blinded him. The garlands of greenery swam before his cloudy gaze. He felt light-headed as the strains from “Frosty the Snowman” rang in his ears. And then he was all right. It was just tension and the relief, he told himself. The parade continued.
Eric Summers fixed his gaze on his watch and stared at the hands until they passed the seventy-two-hour mark. He waited another five minutes before he let the cuff of his shirt slide back down his wrist. Safe. For now, anyway. He released his breath in a long, drawn-out sigh.
Richards passed him on his way back to the office. His smirk left no doubt in Eric’s mind as to what the CEO was thinking. There was no need for the guy to say I told you so. Richards’s eyes said it all.
Heather wrapped her arms around Lex’s neck and waited for the clock to strike the hour. The seventy-second hour. Silent tears ran down her cheek. “Lex, if something does happen, I think you should know . . . I mean—I want you to know that I care for you. I meant to tell you sooner, but . . . well, you know how it is.”
“Yeah,” Lex said, pulling her close. “I do. For the record, I feel the same way about you. I just wish to hell we hadn’t waited so long to tell each other how we feel. I wish—” He stopped abruptly when he saw the hour hand and the second hand come together on the wall clock.
Five minutes later they were still locked in each other’s arms, their fear having lessened only slightly. Heather sagged against him, then straightened.
“This is a reprieve,” Lex said softly. “Nothing else. We still have the rest of the day to get through. There’s another twelve hours to go before the mall closes for the day.”
“Take me away from here, Lex,” Heather said. “Take me anywhere. I don’t care where, just as long as it’s away from here.”
“You got it, babe. You got it.”
The Christmas tree lot was full of parents and kids, last-minute tree shoppers like themselves. The best trees were already gone, but Angela didn’t care. Any tree was good as far as she was concerned. She would even have settled for an artificial one.
“What about this one, Charlie? This part is a little bare, but no one will see it because it’ll be in the corner.”
“Looks good to me,” he said, giving the tree an all-over inspection.
“What a thrill. My first Christmas tree!” On impulse she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him. It was a smacking kiss, hard and quick and over almost before it had begun. “I’ll go get someone to ring it up,” she said, dancing away from him.
Charlie stood staring at the tree but not really seeing it. She had kissed him. Kissed him! Charlie Roman. Now there was no doubt in his mind that she liked him. He didn’t quite know what to make of it. But he liked it.
They put the tree in the car trunk and tied the lid down. Charlie drove slowly all the way home, taking the curves carefully so as not to disturb the tree. Angela chattered like a magpie, telling him how excited she was, that she’d never celebrated a real Christmas before.
“Let’s make cookies when we get home. You do like Christmas cookies, don’t you, Charlie?”
“Are you kidding? I love them.”
“All right then, tonight we’ll decorate the tree and tomorrow while you’re at work I’ll roll out sugar-cookie dough and cut it into Santas and sleighs and stars.”
“Okay.” Angela seemed a little giddy to him, but he kind of liked it.
“You know what else, Charlie?” She laughed. “You’d look good in a Santa suit.” She gave him a playful poke in the tummy. “Go get one.”
Charlie started to say that he couldn’t bring Nick’s suit home, that it belonged to the mall. But he didn’t want to disappoint her. Maybe he could find a suit that one of the walk-around Santas used, somewhere in the employee dressing area. Or he could find a way to sneak Nick’s suit out, then sneak it back in. No one would be the wiser and Angela would have even more fun. He’d deal with that later, though.
It was past midnight when they finished decorating the tree and turned off the overhead light. Hand in hand, Angela and Charlie stood back and admired their work. The CD player, on shuffle, moved to a new song and a huge church choir burst into an angelic version of “Joy to the World.”
“I’ll always remember this night,” Angela said, squeezing Charlie’s hand. “No
w I know what they mean when they talk about the magic of Christmas.”
“You’re the magic, Angela. You made all this happen.”
She seemed bedazzled. Almost too happy. He had noticed even in their short time together that her moods ran to extremes, but he wasn’t going to bug her about it and jinx his newfound happiness.
“Oh no, Charlie. You’re wrong. It was you. It was all you.”
As if. She had to be more than a little nuts. But he didn’t care. For the first time in his life, Charlie Roman felt the stirrings of love.
Heather Andrews slowly opened her eyes and was surprised to see Lex’s face above hers.
“Hi there, sleepyhead,” Lex said.
Heather raised up on one elbow, the sheet slipping down to reveal the tops of her breasts. “Oh my God, what time is it?”
Lex pointed to the clock on the bedstand beside her. “It’s early yet. We’ve got plenty of time,” he said with a mischievous smile.
Heather breathed a sigh of relief, then lay back down and snuggled up close to him. After leaving the mall, Lex had taken her straight back to his house and fixed them drinks. She’d calmed down. Then they’d talked and talked and one thing had led to another until they had found themselves in bed. Memories of last night’s wild lovemaking washed over Heather, arousing her all over again. “Okay, if you say so.” She laughed.
Angela worked nonstop, taking a break only long enough to read off another grocery list for Charlie. It was 3:30 when she finished all her chores and her cookie baking. She was so tired she had to drag herself up the stairs.
She took a bath and soaked for over an hour, sloshing around happily in the hot, soothing water. When the water had cooled, she stepped from the tub and lay down on the bed. Within seconds she was asleep.
It was dusk when she woke. She lay still for a few moments, trying to orient herself, then relaxed as she remembered where she was. She crept from her cocoon of blankets and started toward the bathroom. For some reason she felt disoriented as she staggered down the hall.
A bright flash of light suddenly spiraled across the hallway, lighting it up like a fireworks display. “Oh no,” she moaned, “not again, not now. I won’t look, you can’t make me look.” She slid to the floor, her hands covering her eyes.
Colors swam before her, spinning her, catching her, and pulling her into the dreaded vortex of one of her visions. Around and around her consciousness spun, gripped by the maelstrom that wrung every fiber of her being until it left her weak with exhaustion. Helpless, incapable of movement, she felt her perception sharpen.
Her ears filled with a steady drone, the sputtering of an engine.
A small plane . . . writing on the side . . . P-654RT . . . fire . . . plane on fire . . . sky on fire . . . explosion . . . little girl . . . so still . . . dead . . . asleep. So pretty. Dead? Asleep? Not that little girl. She’s too sweet and innocent to die. Her mother will be so sad.
Angela struggled to her knees, her arms outstretched in an attitude of prayer. She was trying, but she couldn’t do anything.
Such a beautiful little girl with all those dark curls and her tiny gold earrings. Someone must care a great deal about her to put those pretty circlets in her ears. Please don’t let her die.
“Where is it? What is happening?” she screamed to the empty room. “Take me instead, no one cares about me. Take me!”
Angela burst into heartrending sobs. She cried until she was exhausted, knowing she would find no answers sitting on the floor. There were never any answers. Sobbing, she got to her feet and dressed.
The freezing air hit her like a blast from the Arctic as she walked on numb legs around the driveway to the garage door. Her tears tingled on her cold cheeks. She backed the Porsche out of the garage and turned it around, the wheels spinning on the icy road.
Her mind was racing as fast as the car. She was going to drive until it ran out of gas, then get out and walk until she dropped. She didn’t want to see that little girl. She didn’t want to know what was about to happen. No more.
This was the last time she would allow this to happen to her. Her mind was on the verge of shattering.
The traffic slowed to a crawl. She could get to where she was going faster by walking. There was no doubt in her mind as to her destination. Timberwoods Mall—and Charlie. She would tell Charlie about her latest vision. Charlie would listen.
The minutes dragged by as she fought the traffic. After a while, time seemed to lose its meaning and the urgency she’d felt melted away. She realized there was absolutely nothing she could do about what she’d seen. Nothing. The plane would crash. The little girl would die. And that was that.
The mall parking lot was full, as she’d known it would be.
I’ll double-park and hope for the best, she thought. She found a spot, then slid out of the car.
A second later she slipped on the ice, all arms and legs as she grappled for a hold on something. Her hands reached for the bumper on the back of a compact car and she managed to swivel quickly enough to avoid doing damage to herself by falling. She had a fear of doctors and hospitals.
Righting herself, she made her way to the entrance to the shopping center and was barely through the door when she spotted a cop. She turned to run back the way she’d come when a long arm jerked her backward.
“Make it easy on yourself, kid, and don’t give me any trouble.”
Angela muttered a curse as her arm was wrenched behind her. “Let me go. I didn’t do anything.”
“That’s what they all say. Come on now, we’re going for a ride.”
“No, I’m not,” Angela said, jerking free of the young officer. They always traveled in twos, she remembered. But where was his partner? Probably waiting outside to nab her when she went through the door. Or maybe not. This one looked a little edgy.
Onlookers stopped and stared then went about their business. No one wanted to interfere with the law.
Angela crouched lower, the cop circling her, his arms outstretched. God, what did he think she was going to do to him? Angela’s own arms were outstretched to ward him off should he make a sudden lunge for her. She backed up slowly and felt the door give. An unseen somebody, big and soft, was in back of her. Angela straightened up and was off and running before the young cop could move around the plump, matronly woman. Slipping and sliding over the winter-slick parking area, Angela raced. She couldn’t possibly make it to her car and hope to get away. She would have to make it on foot across the open fields where they were planning the annex to the mall. It was her best bet—her only bet at the moment. The cop wasn’t likely to chase her through an unmowed field and muddy up his uniform.
Her long, coltish legs pumped furiously as she made her way up the slight incline and leaped over the guardrail. Open ground. She risked a quick look over her shoulder. He was right behind her. Her feet sunk down into the crunchy grass with its coating of ice. Mud oozed into her shoes as she ran, her breath coming in quick, hard gasps. What the hell were they doing chasing her, anyway? There must be some real criminals out there somewhere that they needed to go and catch.
She hadn’t bothered anyone, so why was he after her? If only Charlie was here, he would make the cop leave her alone.
She kept running. What was he going to think when he got home to see no dinner and no Angela? Well, she couldn’t worry about that now.
She didn’t see the hole and went facedown into the crusty mud. She was up and running again straightaway, but she’d lost valuable time and momentum. The damn cop was gaining on her. She slipped again on the icy ground and went down. This time the cop tackled her and they rolled around on the ground, Angela intent only on freeing herself, the cop intent on making her his prisoner.
He jerked both her arms backward and handcuffed her. “I wouldn’t have done this back at the mall, but you forced me into it.” It sounded almost like an apology.
“Screw you,” she spat.
The cop ignored her. He heard worse a million times
a day. “Look, all we want to do is talk to you. Take it easy. I’m not arresting you.” Again, the tone was defensive.
“Yeah? You handcuffed me for no reason! I want a lawyer, and you can tell your story to a judge.”
“For the last time, I’m not arresting you. Someone wants to talk to you and I’m taking you to him. Now get moving, or do I have to carry you?”
“Do you know who I am?” she demanded.
He ignored her and kept her moving.
“I’m Murray Steinhart’s daughter,” she shouted. “Steinhart, you jerk! As in the Steinhart who owns half this town—”
“I know who you are, and you don’t scare me. So shut up and keep moving.”
“The least you could do is tell me who it is who wants to talk to me.” Angela was shivering uncontrollably now, wet mud and ice particles clinging to every inch of her clothing.
“You’ll know soon enough.”
“Then I’m not going anywhere and you can’t make me.” Angela dug her heels into the slushy ground and braced herself. He was bigger and stronger, but she wasn’t going without a fight.
The young cop squared off, sensing her intention to dig in and fight him. “Listen, I don’t like this any better than you do. We both know you’re gonna come with me, so why don’t you cooperate. Besides,” he pleaded, “I’m cold. And you look like you’re half-frozen.”
“I can last a lot longer than you can out here,” Angela shouted as she dug her heels deeper into the semifrozen mud.
The cop circled her, got a better grip, and shoved her forward. “Move!”
She was defeated. A fool she wasn’t, but she made the cop work for his money. He dragged her every step of the way, both of them slipping and sliding in the mud till they resembled creatures from some dark swamp.
Angela stared at the cream-colored car the cop was steering her toward, wanting to howl with glee. It didn’t say PD. It was an undercover vehicle—or his own car. Cream-colored with fabric seats! For a brief moment the cop paused, slapping his forehead with a muddy palm. But he had no choice. “Get in and sit in one spot. Do you hear me?”
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