“Wait a min—”
The telephone was dead. Jennifer stood there, chilled. Something had gone terribly wrong. Frank Jackson, alias Jack Scanlon, had somehow escaped and he was blaming Jennifer for what had happened. How had he known where she was? He must have followed her here. He could be waiting outside for her now.
Jennifer was trying to control the trembling of her body, trying to think, to reason out what had happened. He had seen the police coming to arrest him, or perhaps they had picked him up and he had gotten away from them. How did not matter. The important thing was that he was blaming her for what had happened.
Frank Jackson had killed before and he could kill again. Jennifer went into the ladies’ room and stayed there until she was calm again. When she had regained control of herself, she returned to the table.
Judge Waldman took one look at her face. “What on earth’s happened?”
Jennifer told him briefly. He was aghast.
“Good God! Would you like me to drive you home?”
“I’ll be all right, Lawrence. If you could just make sure I get to my car safely, I’ll be fine.”
They quietly slipped out of the large ballroom and Judge Waldman stayed with Jennifer until the attendant brought her car.
“You’re certain you don’t want me to come with you?”
“Thanks. I’m sure the police will pick him up before morning. There aren’t many people walking around who look like him. Good night.”
Jennifer drove off, making sure no one was following her. When she was certain she was alone, she turned onto the Long Island Expressway and headed for home.
She kept looking in her rearview mirror, checking the cars behind her. Once she pulled off the road to let all the traffic pass her, and when the road behind her was clear, she drove on. She felt safer now. It could not be many hours before the police picked up Frank Jackson. There would be a general alert out for him by this time.
Jennifer turned into her driveway. The grounds and the house, which should have been brightly lighted, were dark. She sat in the car staring at the house unbelievingly, her mind beginning to shriek with alarm. Frantically, she tore the car door open and raced to the front door. It was ajar. Jennifer stood there for an instant, filled with terror, then stepped into the reception hall. Her foot kicked something warm and soft and she let out an involuntary gasp. She turned on the lights. Max lay on the blood-soaked rug. The dog’s throat had been cut from ear to ear.
“Joshua!” It was a scream. “Mrs. Mackey!”
Jennifer ran from room to room, switching on all the lights and calling out their names, her heart pounding so hard that it was difficult for her to breathe. She raced up the stairs to Joshua’s bedroom. His bed had been slept in, but it was empty.
Jennifer searched every room in the house, then raced downstairs, her mind numb. Frank Jackson must have known all along where she lived. He had followed her home one night from her office or after she left the service station. He had taken Joshua and he was going to kill him to punish her.
She was passing the laundry room when she heard a faint scrabbling sound coming from the closet. Jennifer moved toward the closed door slowly and pulled it open. It was black inside.
A voice whimpered, “Please don’t hurt me any more.”
Jennifer turned on the light. Mrs. Mackey was lying on the floor, her hands and feet tightly bound with wire. She was only half-conscious.
Jennifer quickly knelt beside her. “Mrs. Mackey!”
The older woman looked up at Jennifer and her eyes began to focus.
“He took Joshua.” She began to sob.
As gently as she could, Jennifer untwisted the wire that was cutting into Mrs. Mackey’s arms and legs. They were raw and bleeding. Jennifer helped the housekeeper to her feet.
Mrs. Mackey cried hysterically. “I c-couldn’t stop him. I t-tried. I—”
The sound of the telephone cut into the room. The two women were instantly silenced. The telephone rang again and again, and somehow it had an evil sound. Jennifer walked over to it and picked it up.