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RLY FONTAINE GLANCED at her watch, and grimaced.
Time to call Morgan, to keep her appointment for their follow-up. The problem was, she had no time, no energy, and no ability to pretend the past few days had never happened.
Summoning her inner reserve, she dialed Winshore.
A strange man’s voice answered. “Hello?”
Karly paused. “I’m sorry. I must have the wrong number. I was calling Winshore LLC.”
“You’ve got the right number. Who’s calling?”
The man’s tone was blunt and unnerving. Plus, Karly wasn’t in the habit of giving out her name to strangers. “Who am I speaking with?” she asked.
“This is Officer Parino, Nineteenth Precinct.”
“Officer…” Every muscle in Karly’s body tensed. “Why are the police at Winshore? Has something happened?”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss this, Ms….?”
“Fontaine. Karly Fontaine. I have a twelve-thirty conference call with Morgan Winter.”
“I’d suggest you reach her on her cell. You have the number?”
“Yes. I have it. I’ll call her now.”
She couldn’t disconnect the call fast enough. Her fingers shook as she punched in Morgan’s cell-phone number.
Morgan answered right away, sounding tired but calm. “Hi, Karly,” she greeted, recognizing the caller-ID display.
“Is everything all right?” Karly asked anxiously. “I just called your office and a policeman answered the phone. He wouldn’t give me any information, just that I should reach you on your cell.”
“Yes, well, we had a little excitement at our brownstone last night.” Briefly, Morgan told Karly about the break-in and the way the intruder had ransacked the place. As Monty and the authorities had instructed, she carefully omitted any mention of the defaced newspaper clippings or the threatening note.
“Morgan, how horrible,” Karly responded with genuine distress. “Were you home when he broke in?”
“Fortunately not. Neither Jill nor I was there. We’re very lucky.”
“Very lucky. What did he take?”
A brief hesitation. “Actually, nothing was stolen.”
“I don’t understand.”
Morgan blew out a breath. “Karly, you’ve only been in town a few months. So there’s a lot you might not know, unless you’re an avid newspaper reader. My parents were murdered seventeen years ago. It’s just come to light that the police convicted the wrong guy—another violent criminal, just not the one who killed my parents. My partner, Jill—the one I mentioned to you—her parents are Congressman Arthur Shore and his wife, Elyse. They were my parents’ best friends. I’ve been sort of their adopted daughter since I was orphaned. So we’re all pretty much in the public eye. This could have been some sick prank, or a way to get in the newspapers. I don’t know. That’s what the police are investigating now.”
“I don’t know what to say.” Karly was staring at her computer screen as she spoke, rereading the articles she’d pulled this morning, after two sleepless nights. “I’m sorry this happened. If there’s anything I can do…”
“Not a thing. Jill and I are staying at Arthur and Elyse’s place, so we’re in good hands. Just understand that Winshore is operating at less than maximum efficiency. It’ll only be a day or two. By Monday, we’ll be back to business as usual. Would you mind if we postponed your follow-up session until then?”
“Of course not. I’ll call you next week and set something up. I’m just grateful you’re okay—you and Jill.”
“Me, too.”
KARLY SAT AT her desk for a long time after hanging up, a sick knot forming at the pit of her stomach. Then she reached for her purse, pulling out the envelope she’d unearthed from her box of personal odds and ends, recently unpacked from her cross-country move. She glanced inside the envelope. The note and business card were intact.
She knew what she had to do.
Penning a quick message on a Post-it, she peeled it off and stuck it to the outside of the envelope. Then she slipped the whole thing into a Tyvek envelope and sealed it.
