Stone left Joan a note, saying he’d be back in a day or two, and not to tell anyone but Dino where he’d gone, then he got into his car, drove out of the garage and uptown. He didn’t need to pack a bag. He watched for tails all the way.
The doorman at Celia’s building walked her out of the building and put her luggage in the trunk. She got into the passenger seat. “All right, where are we going?”
“You can’t call anybody,” Stone said.
“I’ll have some appointments to break in the morning.”
“I have a little house in Washington, Connecticut, where you’ll be safe. It’ll take us an hour and forty-five minutes to get there.”
“How long am I going to have to stay there?”
“Until I can get your TRO and do some assessing of the threat.”
“I know the threat; you don’t have to assess it.”
“Have you ever had any help in dealing with Devlin?”
“No, I’ve managed it myself up until now.”
/> “Then we don’t know how Devlin will react to opposition, do we? The very fact that the law will be involved may be enough to ward him off.”
“Don’t count on it.”
“One thing that surprises me is how quickly he got those two cops on my tail. I had a cab waiting when I talked to him, so they must have been at the opening, and I can’t figure out what two cops were doing at that opening. Does he ever have bodyguards?”
“He has on a couple of occasions that I know about, when he was having disagreements with people: his landlord, once, and a gallery owner another time.”
“Good to know. Why don’t you put the seat back and get some sleep?”
“That’s not a bad idea,” she said, pressing the Recline button.
Stone drove on into the night.
26
Stone woke with sunlight streaming into the bedroom and the phone ringing. Telemarketer, he thought; nobody knew he was here. He let the machine get it.
Celia never cracked an eye; she snored on, lightly. Stone got up, went downstairs and found a can of coffee in the freezer. Ten minutes later, Celia came down the stairs, almost dressed, in a robe that he kept for guests.
“Good morning,” she said, yawning. “Where are we again?” They had fallen into bed on arrival, both exhausted.
“In Washington, Connecticut, a village in the upper left-hand corner of the state.”
“I’ve never been to Connecticut. You got anything for breakfast?”
Stone looked at the kitchen clock: eleven-ten a.m. “Nope, we’ll have to pick up some things. I’ll buy you lunch, though.”
“Have I got time for a shower?”
“Sure. We’ll go to the Mayflower.”
“The moving company?”
“The country inn, maybe the best in the United States.”
“I’d better look nice, then.” She took her coffee and headed upstairs.
Stone noticed the message light blinking on the kitchen phone, and he pressed the button.