Christmas at Timberwoods - Fern Michaels [38]
“Detective Summers? Pete Hathaway here. My chief told me to report to you. You’re looking for Angela Steinhart?”
“Right.”
“Wharton told us to keep an eye out for her. I spotted her out on the highway and pulled her over, but she got smart with me and—well, things got interesting. I hate to admit it, but she kicked me and got away. She asked me something funny, though—she wanted to know who was paying me, her mother or Timberwoods Mall. Say, ain’t that where you’re assigned for the next couple of weeks?”
“Yeah. Go on.”
The officer’s tone became belligerent in the face of Summers’s coldness. “Look, Wharton warned me this ain’t police business and I got no reason to stick my nose in. But I was told to report to you. Consider it done.”
“Okay, okay. Get back to your beat. Remember, I want that kid.”
“Yeah, yeah, and I want to go home,” Hathaway muttered as he hung up the phone.
Chapter 6
Heather Andrews was suffering the afternoon blahs. She walked on lagging feet to her office and forced herself to make a pot of coffee. She glanced at her distorted reflection on the side of the coffeemaker. The dark circles under her eyes gave her a waiflike appearance. Bring on the brew, she thought crossly.
When Lex came into her office, he was shocked at her appearance. “Heather,” he said, walking up to her, his dark blue eyes troubled. “This is going to turn out all right. Please don’t let the situation get to you like this. If you want to go home, we’ll understand. You don’t look well.”
He ushered her to a chair and handed her a cup of steaming coffee.
“I’m fine, Lex, really I am,” Heather said as she gratefully accepted the cup. “I know I look half-dead, but that’s only because I didn’t sleep well last night. Besides, I have a job to do like the rest of you. You can count on me to do my share. Don’t worry, I’ll be all right once I’ve finished this coffee.”
Lex hunkered down beside her chair. “I wanted to call you last night, but it was too late by the time we finished.”
“I figured as much,” she said.
“How about we go out together. Like tonight? We’ll have a nice, quiet dinner. And we won’t discuss work.”
She was about to accept when Harold ambled into the office, fifteen minutes late. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked decidedly rumpled. Nevertheless he smiled and greeted them both heartily. He poured himself a cup of coffee and rolled his eyes in Lex’s direction. The tall man grinned.
“Is Summers here yet?” Harold asked, cupping the heavy mug in both hands.
“His car is in the lot, so I guess he’s around somewhere.”
“I think you should fill Heather in—unless you already did. I’ll just sit down and enjoy this. May I say, Heather, this is the best coffee I’ve had in a long time.”
Heather looked puzzled at Harold’s tone. She glanced at Lex—what was the joke? The man seemed almost human this morning.
“This is the new Harold,” Lex explained.
Heather’s face was still blank. She really didn’t care if this was a new Harold, an old Harold, or a recycled Harold. All she wanted was to lose herself in avoid somewhere and never wake up.
“I want a head count at four o’clock,” Harold said over the rim of his coffee cup. “The seventy-two hours will be up on Friday.”
“You’re forgetting that Friday is the parade and the start of Skyer’s half-price sale,” said Lex. “There’ll be a massacre in this mall if the doors don’t open on time. Do you have any idea how much those cash registers can ring up in two hours? Our fearless leader, Dolph Richards, will never buy opening late. Neither will Skyer’s.”
“It’s the only way,” Harold said, getting up and pouring himself another cup of coffee. “The bomb squad and the dogs will have all night and Friday morning to go over this mall. If it works out, the shopping center will be clean when it opens. We just have to keep it that way, and that’s the reason for the bag check at the doors.”
“Good move. And by the way, don’t forget they’re predicting a heavy snowfall for the weekend.”
“Oh Jesus,” Harold groaned. “When did you hear that?”
“This morning