Just Take My Heart - Mary Higgins Clark [50]
“Gregg, come on. What are you getting at?”
Gregg shoved his hands in his pockets. To Mike he looked curi?ously vulnerable. “Mike, after that accident when I was a kid, I had long stretches where I couldn't remember things that had happened. That all passed, but what hasn't passed is my concept of time. I can get so engrossed that I don't realize if a couple of hours have gone by.”
“That's called the ability to concentrate,” Mike said.
“Thanks. But it happened the morning Natalie died. That was a March day. The weather was lousy. It's one thing to be sitting at your desk and be unaware of time. It's another when you're outside in crummy weather. The point is, I know I couldn't have killed Nata?lie. God, how much I loved her! But I wish I could remember those two hours. I do remember turning in that rented car. If I'd been run?ning for two hours, was I in that deep a funk that I didn't feel cold or out of breath?”
Heartsick at the doubt and confusion he saw on his friend's face, Michael got up and grasped Gregg's shoulders. “Gregg, listen to me. You came off great on the stand yesterday. I believed you about that Jimmy Easton character and about the reason you called Natalie frequently. I remember being with you when in the middle of a con?versation, you'd push the button on your cell phone and have a ten-second conversation with her.”
“Natalie, I love you,” Gregg said, his voice emotionless. “End of message.”
Just Take My Heart
33
Emily allowed herself to sleep until seven thirty on Sunday morn?ing. She planned to get to the office by eight thirty and spend the day there. “Bess, you've been very patient with me. I know I've been neglecting you,” she apologized as she plucked Bess from the other pillow. She was longing for a cup of coffee but seeing the plaintive look in the eyes of her little dog, she threw on jeans and a jacket and announced, “Bess, you're not just going out in the backyard this morning. I'm taking you for a walk.”
Bess's tail was wagging furiously as they went downstairs, and Emily grabbed the leash and fastened it to her collar. She slipped a key in her jacket pocket and headed for the front door. Since she had put the bolt on the porch door, it was easier to go out that way.
With Bess excitedly pulling at the leash, they started down the walk to the driveway. Then Emily stopped abruptly and stared in amazement. “What in God's name is going on?” she asked aloud as she saw the freshly dug dirt where only late yesterday she had ad?mired the newly planted mums.
Were they loaded with bugs? she wondered. Is that possible? I mean, that is really strange. He lined his whole walkway with them just yesterday. And when did he pull them up? They were there when I left to go to the Wesleys' last evening. I didn't notice one way or the other if they were gone when I got home. That was sometime after ten o'clock.
She felt a tug on the leash and looked down. “Sorry, Bess. Okay, we'll start moving.”
Bess elected to turn left at the sidewalk which took Emily past Zach's house. He has to be home, she thought, because his car is parked in the driveway. If that guy wasn't so creepy, I'd ring his door?bell later and ask him what happened. But I don't want to give him an excuse to latch onto me again.
The image of Zach rocking in the chair in her enclosed porch once again permeated her thoughts. It was more than a feeling of discomfort, she concluded. He scared me.
And he still does, she acknowledged, as she passed his house again on the way back fifteen minutes later. I've been so wrapped up in this case that I don't think it hit me right away.
Just Take My Heart
34
This is the day the Lord has made," Gregg Aldrich thought grimly as he looked out his bedroom window at six o'clock on Monday morning. It was pouring outside, but even if it had not been, he would not have gone for a run. I would hope I wouldn't be stupid enough to lose track of time on this of all days, he thought, but I'm not taking any chances.
He swallowed against the dryness in his mouth. Last night he'd taken a low-dose sleeping