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“Claire Hedgleigh came to visit me tonight. I didn’t invite her,” Suzanne added hastily. “She just sensed that I...needed some company. I remembered that you told me not to make the Forensic Instincts team suspicious. So I asked Claire in for tea.”
“Interesting.” Glen’s mind was processing a mile a minute. There was no way Claire Hedgleigh had come over for a cup of tea. She had an agenda. The Forensic Instincts team had probably chosen her for a recon expedition because she was the least threatening, and because she was just the kind of woman Suzanne would gravitate to for female companionship. Smart move on their part.
Time to find out what damage had been done.
“What happened?” he asked his wife.
“I screwed up.”
Glen’s jaw clenched. “What did you tell her?”
“Nothing. In fact, she didn’t even want to talk about you. We discussed the piano.”
“How quaint. So how did you screw up?”
In a quavering voice, Suzanne told him about the incident with the wig. “I don’t know how she found it. Either by accident or maybe she got some vibes that it was there. But she has it. And I don’t know what to do.”
Glen began to laugh, first a little and then a lot. The idea of Claire Hedgleigh communing with Suzanne’s wig struck him as very funny.
“Why are you laughing?” Suzanne demanded. “I’ve put you in danger.”
“Cut it out, Suzanne. Yeah, it was stupid of you to leave the wig lying around. But other than that, the whole thing is ridiculous. Ms. Psychic probably thinks she’s going to find me through some cosmic connection.”
Suzanne wasn’t laughing. “It’s possible. That wig is very personal to us. She could get damning energy off it.”
“What kind of ‘damning energy’? That we like to keep things spicy in the bedroom?”
“What if she puts it on? What if that helps her figure out where you are?” Yes, Suzanne was weak with relief that Glen wasn’t furious with her. But she was still worried to death over the ramifications of Claire’s having the wig.
“And how would she figure that out?” Glen threw back at her. “Even if she’s the psychic of the year, she has nothing to use. Since I left Auburn, you wore that wig only once in my presence—in that motel room. The rest of our encounters have been over the phone. There’s nothing either substantive or metaphysical for her to use to figure out my whereabouts. Let her parade around midtown Manhattan with the wig on for all I care. We’ll get you a new one.”
Suzanne was calming down now. “I was thinking we should get two so we always have a spare.”
“Good idea. Only let me take care of it. I don’t want you drawing any more attention to yourself. No sense raising any red flags.” He chuckled at his own play on words.
“Do you think I’m more at risk now than I was before?”
“The only thing that’s at risk is your modesty, if your friend Claire Hedgleigh visualizes anything graphic pertaining to you and that wig. Other than that, just keep going about your regular routine.”
He ended the call, still chuckling at the idea of Casey’s psychic friend trying to gain info from a cascade of hair. He knew the Forensic Instincts team was tight. He had to give Claire Hedgleigh points for balls and for creativity. Balls for dropping in on Suzanne with no backup. And creativity for deciding to play dress-up to gain insight into his plans for Casey so she could protect her friend. Suzanne was worried about what would happen if she put the wig on. Hell, maybe she’d learn a thing or two.
Abruptly, Glen’s head came up, and his laughter faded. Of course. What an asshole he’d been. He was so busy trying to conjure up a way to infiltrate Casey Woods’s impenetrable world and grab her that he hadn’t thought of the obvious.
He’d forget going after her.
Instead, he’d force her to come to him. And he knew just how to do it.
Adrenaline pumping, Glen rose from the table and chugged the rest of his beer. He walked over to the condiment area, dropped his cell phone in the garbage and walked up to the counter, where he asked one of the servers for a paper bag. He opened the bag, dumped the remainder of his French fries inside and then placed an uneaten hot dog on top of the fries. Folding the top of the bag, he polished off the last bite of hot dog on his tray, picked up the bag and left.
No sense letting good food go to waste.
Especially since the next Nathan’s he’d be eating would be in Dubai.
Chapter Thirty-One
After leaving the Fishers’ apartment, Claire went straight to the brownstone rather than home.
She knew the FI team. They’d all still be there, hard at work. And she was eager to report what had happened during her visit with Suzanne Fisher. After that, she’d seclude herself in her preferred small office, and see what kind of energy she could pick up off the wig she’d taken.
