Catherine Coulter – FBI 4 The Edge

I found Paul sitting in the chair in Jilly’s room, his head in his hands.

I said, “Someone called Jilly from a pay phone in Edgerton earlier this evening.”

“There’s only one public phone,” Paul said. “It’s on Fifth Avenue, right in front of Grace’s Deli.”

I said, “Anyone could have ducked out of the party to go make the call. You included, Paul.”

“Yes,” he said, not looking at me. “Cotter disagrees with me. He thinks Jilly was pissed off that everyone had assumed she was trying to kill herself. She wanted to make all of us worry that she just might try it again. She wants to make us suffer. She’ll show up soon, laughing at us. Oh, yeah, Cotter was here earlier, helping look for her.”

I said, “Let’s get some sleep. It’s late. My brain’s scrambled. There’s nothing more we can do until morning. Come on, Paul, let’s go home.”

I wanted at least three hours’ sleep before I went to Salem to see Laura.

Chapter Eleven

It was just after seven the next morning when I pulled my car into a guest parking spot in front of a parkside condo complex. I got out and looked around. The complex didn’t look more than three or four years old, designed in a country French style, three condos to each building, all of them garnished with pale gray wooden siding. The park was quite pretty, all pine and spruce trees, and playgrounds for kids, and even a pond for ducks and lily pads. As I walked into the complex, I saw a swimming pool off to the left, a clubhouse, and a small golf course. I remembered Laura saying that the library didn’t pay much. That was interesting. This place wasn’t cheap.

Laura Scott opened the door and blinked at me as T said, “Nice digs.”

“Mac, what are you doing here?”

“Why didn’t you go to see Jilly yesterday? You told me you were going to visit her.”

She just shook her head at me. It made her long hair swing and lift. She was wearing nice-fitting jeans and a loose T-shirt, and running shoes on her feet. I thought she looked elegant and sexy.

“Come in, Mac. Would you like a cup of coffee? It’ll take me just a few minutes to brew.”

“Yeah,” I said and, having no choice, followed her into one of the most beautiful homes I’d ever been in. The foyer was small, tiled with country peach-shaded pavers and whimsical accent tiles of French country scenes. Off to the left was a beautiful oak staircase leading upstairs. I followed her through an archway into a living room that was octagonal-shaped, giving it complexity with lots of nooks and crannies. There were bright colors everywhere, window seats, small flashes of scarlet pillows, and richly colored South Seas-patterned material on a sectional sofa. There were lamps and chairs and small groupings and nearly every inch of the room was filled with something extravagant, brightly colored, and utterly useless. It coaxed you right in.

There were plants and flowers everywhere. A mynah bird stood on the back of a chair watching me. He squawked, then began poking under his wing feathers.

“That’s Nolan,” Laura said. “He doesn’t talk-which is probably a good thing-just squawks occasionally.” “Squawk.” “That’s his greeting.”

“Hi, Nolan.” I followed her through the dining room into a small kitchen that looked right out of Don Appetit magazine. All in all, the condo was a good-sized place, not as big as my own house, but not bad. “How many bedrooms?” “Three upstairs and a study downstairs.” I accepted a cup of coffee, shook my head at the offer of milk or sugar. “You’ve got a really nice place here, Laura.”

“Thank you.”

“Did I see a two-car garage for each condo?”

“Yes. Before you raise that sarcastic eyebrow of yours even higher, let me tell you that my uncle George left me this condo in his will. About eighteen months ago, just in case you wondered.”

As, of course, I had. It was at least something solid and real that I could check out. “So Uncle George lived here?”

She nodded and sipped her coffee. Her head was cocked to the side, sending her loose hair hanging like a shining curtain beside her face. I wanted to roll around in that hair of hers, smooth it over my hands, let it tumble over my face. I’d noticed immediately that she wasn’t wearing a bra. I noticed again, and swallowed.

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