Christmas at Timberwoods - Fern Michaels [31]
“It’s all a joke. For whatever reason, Angela is playing a prank on you, that’s all. Teenagers, college kids do that sort of thing—what do they call it—getting punked?”
“I believe that’s the current term,” Harold said dryly.
“How old is she now? Twenty?” Richards answered his own question, sounding relieved now he was on surer ground. “Obviously had nothing better to do.”
“At first we thought Angela might have sent the bomb threat herself, but she didn’t. We know that now,” Eric stated. “The police say the MO is the same as the previous two. I checked with them before I came in here.”
“The girl is probably on drugs!” Richards cried. “You’re believing the word of a druggie?”
“Drugs or no—I believe her and so does Heather. If you could have seen her, heard her . . . Something has to be done,” Lex said.
“Nothing is going to be done. This whole thing is ridiculous. I don’t believe in all this shit you’re spouting. I believe in the here and now. No one can foresee the future. If either of you says one word about this . . . if this gets out . . . you’ll be fired on the spot. Do you hear me, Harold? I’m holding you personally responsible. You never should have let it get this far, you moron!”
Harold was having difficulty speaking, so he just nodded and wiped his damp hands on his trousers.
“Listen to me, Richards,” Lex insisted. “We went to see Mrs. Steinhart at her house. It was a disaster. The whole downstairs was flooded, thousands of dollars in damage. Mrs. Steinhart intimated that Angela did it, that her daughter wasn’t sane. On the other hand, she also hinted that she knows about Angela’s visions and that they come true. She didn’t come right out and admit it, but she might as well have. She probably thinks that if the word gets out it will ruin her social standing in the community or some damn thing. When we mentioned that Angela told us she’d seen a psychiatrist, she almost fainted.”
“What was his diagnosis?” Richards asked craftily.
“Who knows? But her mother calls Angela’s condition nervous fits.”
“There, you see!” Richards laughed heartily. “The girl is a mental case and the psychiatrist recognized it. I can almost understand your being taken in by her. It sounds like she really worked you over.” He shook his head. “Forget it. Why don’t you both go out to dinner and forget the whole thing? Everything will look different in the morning. And remember, not a word of this to anyone.”
“Mr. Richards,” Harold said hesitantly, “what if it is true? What if the girl can predict these things? When you stop and think about it, it does happen. I read about things like this in the papers every week. Not necessarily something as catastrophic as this, but things of this nature. Do you know how many people will be in this mall next week?”
“More than last year, I hope,” Richards snapped. “Now quit trying to get a free vacation. You always were a mealymouthed son of a bitch, Harold. I just told you it was a trick, and you know damn well that no one in his right mind would blow up my shopping center. Remember, all of you . . . if one word of this gets out, you’re fired!”
“You can sit here and pretend till hell freezes over that we never talked to you,” Lex said, his temper rising, “but I’m going to talk to anyone who will listen to me, and that includes the police. I want to be able to live with myself. I have to try to do something. You can’t play with human lives. You’re going to be forced to close!”
“I won’t close the mall. You’re crazy, Lassiter. Isn’t he, Baumgarten?”
Harold frowned as something stirred in his gut. He squared his plump shoulders and said quietly, “I don’t know if he’s crazy or not. But if I were in your position, I’d padlock the doors and deal with the consequences. If this ever comes to pass and word gets out that it was your decision to keep the mall open . . . think about the legal consequences. I’m talking major liability, in the hundreds of millions.” Might as well appeal to Richards’s mercenary side. The man had no morals to speak of. “These bomb threats could