Christmas At Timberwoods (8 page)

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Authors: Fern Michaels

BOOK: Christmas At Timberwoods
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Harold felt his stomach heave; he wanted to smash that handsome, lying face. If there were any justice in the world, someone would make a eunuch out of Richards and present the leftovers to his wife for Christmas. He forced his mind back to the matter at hand as Eric Summers spoke.
“Heather Andrews came to me with a rather interesting story. I think she should tell you herself, and then I’ll pick up from where she leaves off.”
Heather moistened her lips and spoke quietly. “Angela Steinhart came to see me yesterday. She just wanted to talk to me. You do know who she is, don’t you?”
Richards sighed. “Yes, I know her. And I know the family rather well. We get together once in a while for a game of bridge. Strange girl. Willful. Spoiled. You know how some of those poor little rich kids are.”
Heather nodded. “She told me a story that made my blood run cold. She said that for years she’s had visions, premonitions of things that are going to happen.”
“Maybe she can help out during the football pool,” Richards joked.
Heather shook her head slightly. “Please listen. She told me she saw Timberwoods Mall collapsing at the height of the Christmas season.”
“No way. The place is built like a giant brick—never mind. Anyway, our maintenance people get the snow off the roof before it drifts,” Richards pointed out obstinately.
“Not from snow. Explosions. A series of explosions. Strong enough to demolish the whole shopping center.”
“Boom, boom. It’s so great to be crazy. Isn’t that how the song goes?”
No one answered him.
“I don’t happen to think Angela is crazy,” Heather said slowly. “In fact, I believed her then and I believe her now.”
“Heather, surely you’re joking,” Richards said indulgently. He could forgive this idiotic waste of his time. She did have the best legs in the center. “Angela was playing a joke on you. I’d say it was in poor taste, but it had to have been a joke.”
“It’s no joke,” Lex said curtly. “Heather and I went over to her house and talked to her. She described the vision and added precise details about the mall that only an insider would know.”
“Like what?” Richards looked bored.
“I’ll fill you in on it as soon as I can write it all down. But my instincts tell me that the kid isn’t lying. Lives could be at stake here. Timberwoods could blow. Worse things have happened in this crazy world.”
Heather nodded without adding her two cents.
Lex went on. “We have to do something. Angela insists that what she sees, happens. The safest thing to do is shut down and sweep the place from basement to roof for explosives or incendiary devices.”
“And what does a public relations man know about either?” the other man asked rudely.
Lex shrugged. “Not much. So call in experts. And close the mall.”
“You’re out of your mind!” Richards was horrified. “The loss of revenue and failure to renew leases—it would be catastrophic! Harold, what do you have to say?”
The chief of security had developed a grayish pallor. “Hell, I don’t know what to do. First the bomb threat this morning and now this,” he said hoarsely. “I knew there was something different about it.”
“It’s all a joke. For whatever reason, Angela is playing a prank on you, that’s all. Teenagers, college kids do that sort of thing—what do they call it—getting punked?”
“I believe that’s the current term,” Harold said dryly.
“How old is she now? Twenty?” Richards answered his own question, sounding relieved now he was on surer ground. “Obviously had nothing better to do.”
“At first we thought Angela might have sent the bomb threat herself, but she didn’t. We know that now,” Eric stated. “The police say the MO is the same as the previous two. I checked with them before I came in here.”
“The girl is probably on drugs!” Richards cried. “You’re believing the word of a druggie?”
“Drugs or no—I believe her and so does Heather. If you could have seen her, heard her . . . Something has to be done,” Lex said.
“Nothing is going to be done. This whole thing is ridiculous. I don’t believe in all this shit you’re spouting. I believe in the here and now. No one can foresee the future. If either of you says one word about this . . . if this gets out . . . you’ll be fired on the spot. Do you hear me, Harold? I’m holding you personally responsible. You never should have let it get this far, you moron!”
Harold was having difficulty speaking, so he just nodded and wiped his damp hands on his trousers.
“Listen to me, Richards,” Lex insisted. “We went to see Mrs. Steinhart at her house. It was a disaster. The whole downstairs was flooded, thousands of dollars in damage. Mrs. Steinhart intimated that Angela did it, that her daughter wasn’t sane. On the other hand, she also hinted that she knows about Angela’s visions and that they come true. She didn’t come right out and admit it, but she might as well have. She probably thinks that if the word gets out it will ruin her social standing in the community or some damn thing. When we mentioned that Angela told us she’d seen a psychiatrist, she almost fainted.”
“What was his diagnosis?” Richards asked craftily.
“Who knows? But her mother calls Angela’s condition nervous fits.”
“There, you see!” Richards laughed heartily. “The girl is a mental case and the psychiatrist recognized it. I can almost understand your being taken in by her. It sounds like she really worked you over.” He shook his head. “Forget it. Why don’t you both go out to dinner and forget the whole thing? Everything will look different in the morning. And remember, not a word of this to anyone.”
“Mr. Richards,” Harold said hesitantly, “what if it is true? What if the girl can predict these things? When you stop and think about it, it does happen. I read about things like this in the papers every week. Not necessarily something as catastrophic as this, but things of this nature. Do you know how many people will be in this mall next week?”
“More than last year, I hope,” Richards snapped. “Now quit trying to get a free vacation. You always were a mealymouthed son of a bitch, Harold. I just told you it was a trick, and you know damn well that no one in his right mind would blow up my shopping center. Remember, all of you . . . if one word of this gets out, you’re fired!”
“You can sit here and pretend till hell freezes over that we never talked to you,” Lex said, his temper rising, “but I’m going to talk to anyone who will listen to me, and that includes the police. I want to be able to live with myself. I have to try to do something. You can’t play with human lives. You’re going to be forced to close!”
“I won’t close the mall. You’re crazy, Lassiter. Isn’t he, Baumgarten?”
Harold frowned as something stirred in his gut. He squared his plump shoulders and said quietly, “I don’t know if he’s crazy or not. But if I were in your position, I’d padlock the doors and deal with the consequences. If this ever comes to pass and word gets out that it was your decision to keep the mall open . . . think about the legal consequences. I’m talking major liability, in the hundreds of millions.” Might as well appeal to Richards’s mercenary side. The man had no morals to speak of. “These bomb threats could be some sort of warning. The seventy-two hours takes us right into the Christmas parade.”
“But Angela Steinhart’s a mental case! You’d believe some kid who’s so screwed up she doesn’t know what day of the week it is? Fools! This mall stays open, and I don’t want to hear another word about it.”
“Over my dead body,” Eric shouted. “Don’t be stupid! Get your brains in gear and do something now, before it’s too late!”
“You’re going too far, Summers. Your chief won’t like it. And I don’t have to sit here and listen to this!” Richards shouted angrily.
“You don’t have to, but you’d better. All this is too much of a coincidence. The bomb threat, the Steinhart girl coming to talk to Heather . . .” Lex faced Richards’s fury.
“You’re a jackass, Lassiter. I’m warning you, stay out of this. No one is shutting down my mall. No one is going to tell me what to do, not even Homeland Security. I should have all of you thrown in jail.”
“Try it,” Summers said coldly.
Harold stood up, his short legs trembling. “I’m on your side, Summers, for whatever it’s worth. I vote to close and I’ll tell the police so. I am the chief of security.”
“Not any longer. You’re fired!” Richards shouted.
“My contract says you have to give me two weeks’ notice,” Harold laughed, enjoying his own private joke. “I really don’t care if you fire me or not. I’ll stay for my two weeks and you can’t do anything about it.”
“You’re too stupid to get a job anywhere else. I’ll hold you responsible, Baumgarten, if this insane prediction gets spread around.”
Harold continued to laugh. He walked around to the portable bar and poured himself a glass of brandy. He held the glass aloft and said, “To all the stupid fools the world over.” He took one gulp of the fiery liquid and poured the remainder over Richards’s desk.
Stunned, Richards watched the brandy seeping into his trousers before jumping to his feet. “You’re out of your minds, all of you! Get out before I throw you out!”
Outside Richards’s office, Lex turned to Heather and put his hands on her shoulders, gently squeezing them. “You need to get some rest. Go on home. I’ll be in touch.”
Heather leaned toward him, needing his strength. “But what are you going to do?” she asked, knowing there were purple shadows of fatigue under her eyes and not caring. Something was developing between Lex and herself, something that went deeper than smudged makeup and disheveled hair. This was something that came from the inside out.
“Lex is going to come home with me,” Summers explained. “I’ve got a connection through the police force with a man by the name of Noel Dayton. I’ve already called him and he’s going to meet me at home. I don’t want to make this official by talking to him in the office or downtown at the station.”
“Who’s Noel Dayton?” Heather asked.
“He’s a police psychiatrist from New York City. I’d like him to talk to Angela.”
Lex wrapped an arm around Heather’s waist and started walking. “You’ve had a long day. I’ll walk you down to your car.” Lex smiled down at her, his concern evident. “We’ll get a fresh start in the morning. And another thing—I don’t want you losing sleep over this,” he added sternly. “We’re going to do our best, and that’s all any of us can do.”
Heather nodded gratefully. “Will I see you later?” she asked, hoping he would catch her silent invitation.
“I’ll give you a call,” he said, smiling.
“Harold, you should be in on this, too.” Summers turned to address the chief. “You will come home with me, won’t you?”
“Of course. I’m chief of security. I’ll do everything I can.”
“Thanks for the backup in Richards’s office. If we stand together maybe we can get to the bottom of this.” Summers’s voice was weary. “I don’t know what to believe at this point. All I know is that the bomb threat seemed real and tangible. I could hold that letter in my hand and look at it. This Steinhart thing, well, I just don’t know. But I do know that we’ve got to follow every lead, look into every corner. If Angela knows something, we’ve got to make her tell us. That’s where my concerns lie. I had an old sergeant in the police academy who used to say, ‘No threat is an empty threat.’ I tend to agree.”
Harold worked his mouth into a smile and patted Summers’s back. “Exactly. And don’t worry about Richards. He’s the moron. I’ll get my coat and meet you by lot number five.”
 
 
Lex hurried Heather through the cold, windy parking lot to her car.
“It’s over there,” she said, pointing a gloved hand. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”
“I know, I know. Let’s just say I like to do it. It doesn’t mean I think you’re not capable of getting out to your car by yourself.”
Heather laughed. Being with Lex was so nice, so easy. In the past two days their relationship had deepened—she’d heard that getting through a crisis made that happen sometimes. It was an awfully thin silver lining, she thought as they kept walking, but it would have to do.
They stopped at her car. “Here it is,” she said. “Now you hurry over to Lot Number Five. Eric and Harold are probably waiting for you.”
Lex grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him. “Let them wait. I’ve got something important on my mind.” He rested his hand on the car roof and leaned close to her. His breath was soft and warm on her cheek and his eyes held hers softly.
Heather lifted her face, offering her lips to his kiss. He gathered her in his arms and held her close, tight against him. “Mmmm,” he sighed into her ear. “I wish I was going home with you rather than Summers.”
Heather laughed lightly. “I do, too, but you have to get together with Eric and Harold. No way am I going to be responsible for breaking up the three musketeers. On your way, mister.” She gave him a gentle push. “If it’s not too late when you’re through, give me a call.”
“Will do,” he told her, touching her lips with his once again.

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