Christmas at Timberwoods - Fern Michaels [61]
Angela waved the blow dryer a few times around her springy curls and looked in the mirror. She would do. Mrs. Summers certainly was nice. She was grateful for the food. Wondering vaguely when the baby was due, she thought about buying a present for the new arrival, or making a colorful mobile to hang over the crib. She could even design a wall hanging—brightly colored animals all in a row, maybe, or whatever Amy wanted.
That is, she could get creative if she weren’t locked up somewhere. She tidied up the bathroom and put everything back the way she found it. Before leaving the bedroom, she tried Charlie’s number again. After ten rings she hung up. Where was he? He should have been home long ago. Or maybe he was home and just not answering the phone because he was angry at her. If only she’d left a note . . . but at the time she hadn’t been thinking about anything except getting out of there and ridding herself of the vision.
Angela went back to the kitchen and smiled at Amy, a sad but winsome smile that went straight to Amy’s heart.
“You were right, Mrs. Summers, that was the best bath I ever had. I cleaned out the tub and returned everything the way I found it.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I didn’t want you to have to scrub. I mean, with you being . . .”
“As big as a mountain. Thanks, honey.”
“When is your baby due?”
“Right around Christmas Day. Won’t that be a magnificent present?”
“The best.” Angela grinned. “I wish I could stay here and talk to you, but I have to go inside. Your kitchen smells so good. I love it in here.”
Tears blurred Amy’s eyes. “When you’ve finished your talk, you come back here and we’ll have some fresh chocolate cake and talk about my baby. Is it a deal?”
Angela nodded and walked through the swinging door into the living room. Eric was shocked at the girl’s appearance. Christ, she almost looked normal and she smelled like Amy, just like an herb garden. Lex raised his eyes and grinned at Harold. It was obvious the chief had a little trouble recognizing Angela for a moment. Soap and water certainly worked miracles.
“Angela, this is Dr. Noel Dayton,” Lex explained. “He wants to talk to you and so do we. I apologize for the way you were brought here, but you have to understand that we really had no other choice. You can leave, by the way. But I want to make it clear that we believe in you. All we want to do is talk. Is it a deal?”
Angela looked at the faces surrounding her. They looked harmless enough and they hadn’t called her mother. Maybe they did just want to talk.
Lex went on, “I’ve explained the situation to Dr. Dayton, but I want him to hear it from you. So far Mr. Baumgarten has only my word, as does Mr. Summers, about what you saw.”
Angela waited. Let them say everything they had to say and then she would decide. Where was Heather? She would feel better if the pretty executive from the mall was in on this—whatever this was. She didn’t want to call it an interrogation.
Angela willed her face to total blankness and Lex cringed. Jesus, what if she refused to talk?
Eric looked directly into Angela’s eyes. “Your visit to Ms. Andrews and telling her about a potential explosion at Timberwoods Mall has caused us a great deal of concern. I’m going to ask you straight out, Angela, do you know anything about the bomb threat that you haven’t told us? Did you send it? Do you know who did?”
Angela involuntarily took a step backward, wanting to put some distance between herself and the man who seemed to be trying to peer into her very soul.
“I . . . I only know what I’ve already told you, nothing about the bomb threat. I don’t know who could have sent it.” She could feel herself beginning to tremble. Her gaze fixed on Dayton. “You said he’s a doctor. What’s he doing here? Did my mother send you?” she demanded suspiciously.
“I’m a psychiatrist, Angela, and I want to help,” Dayton said.
“Help who? Me or the police?” she snapped defiantly.
Surprising her, Harold spoke up, his tone gentle. “We’re here to discuss the