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She was racing against the clock and she knew it.
Suzanne had probably gone to pieces when she realized the wig was missing. And that would trigger some reaction from her husband. Claire just wasn’t sure what that reaction would be.
She only prayed it wasn’t one that would accelerate Fisher’s plans for Casey.
Claire had to do some yoga, calm down and free her mind of all the chaos it was experiencing. Then she could concentrate and, hopefully, put her efforts where they belonged.
Calming down was not in the cards.
Claire practically collided with Patrick in the front hallway, where he was talking with a few of his security guards, reassigning different people to different posts and letting others go home for a rest. He paused when Claire blew in, and angled his head in her direction.
“Lose your cell phone?” he inquired.
“Excuse me?” Claire gave him a baffled look.
“Your cell phone. The thing we reach you on. It’s been going straight to voice mail.”
“Oh.” Claire groped in her tote bag and pulled out the phone. She glanced down at it, feeling like an idiot. “I turned it off while I was meeting with Suzanne Fisher. I must have forgotten to turn it back on.” She quickly remedied that as she spoke.
“Well, don’t bother checking your twelve voice mails. Just brace yourself.”
“For what?”
“For me.” Ryan was leaning against the second-floor bannister, glaring down at her.
Totally puzzled, Claire climbed the stairs to the second level. “What’s wrong? You knew where I was.”
“Yeah, I knew.” Ryan was clearly furious. “Are you out of your friggin’ mind? You were going over there for a visit, to commune with the energy in her apartment. Instead, you ripped off her sex toy? What did you think was going to happen?”
Claire blinked. “How did you know I took the wig?”
“Because I’m tapped into every cell phone call the Fishers make. Because I’ve had the outstanding fortune of listening to their before and after conversations—first, their make-me-barf phone sex, and then Suzanne’s hysterical call to her husband, telling him you’d stolen her Barbie doll hair.”
“I assume, from your reaction, that Glen Fisher was mad?”
“Shouldn’t that question have occurred to you before you took the wig?” Ryan wasn’t letting this go.
“Probably,” Claire admitted. “But the truth is, I didn’t stop to consider the fallout. I just saw an opportunity and I took it. That wig was screaming with energy. I could barely breathe. All I wanted was to sort out the aura.” A pause. “You didn’t answer my question—how did Glen Fisher react?”
“You’re lucky. Apparently, he’s not a big believer in psychic readings. He laughed off the whole thing and told Suzanne he’d buy her a new wig. Plus a second one for the road.”
Claire searched Ryan’s face. “They’re planning on killing Casey and then taking off.”
“Sure sounds like it.”
“Did you trace the phone calls?”
“Dead ends. One from a park bench in Brooklyn and one from a Nathan’s
at Coney Island. No chance of tracing them. And now it looks like Fisher’s dumped the burn phone. He’s probably got another one.”
“But you don’t think he’s coming after the wig?”
“No. It was still a stupid thing to do.”
“I guess.” Claire was eager to start her process. “But what’s done is done. I’ve got to get busy to see if my hunch pays off.”
Ryan waved his arm toward the third floor. “Have at it. But let me know before you take off on any more excursions.”
