YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE
Stone stared at the message, rereading it.
“Mr. Barrington,” Joan said. “Are you all right? You’ve turned pale.”
Stone realized that he felt pale. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“Is it bad news?”
“I’m afraid so,” he said. “Will you wait right here, Joan? Whatever you do, don’t leave the house or go near the front door.”
“All right,” she said, looking at him curiously.
Stone went to his study and called Dino on his private line.
“Bacchetti.”
“Dino, it’s Stone.”
“Morning. You feeling better?”
“I was until a minute ago.”
Dino’s voice changed. “What’s happened?”
“I’ve had a message from our perp.” Stone read the telegram. “It was pushed through the mail slot five minutes ago.”
“Hang on,” Dino said, putting him on hold.
Stone waited, feeling a little sick at the thought of what he might have gotten Joan Robertson into.
“You there?” Dino asked.
“Yes.”
“I’ve put out a new APB in your neighborhood,” he said. “I don’t know what else I can do.”
“There is something else,” Stone said.
“Shoot.”
“I’ve made a big mistake. When Alma was killed, Bill Eggers offered to send somebody over to help out until I can hire a new secretary. She arrived this morning; I had completely forgotten about it.”
“Oh, shit,” Dino said.
“Exactly.”
“We’re going to have to get her out of there,” Dino said.
“What do you suggest?”
Dino thought for a minute. “Can a car get into that garage of yours?”
“Yes. I was thinking of buying a car, and I moved a lot of boxes out of the way.”
“I’ll send an unmarked car over there; you watch for them and open the garage. They can pull inside, then you can put your lady in the backseat, and they can drive her somewhere. I’ll tell them to make sure they’re not followed.”
“Very good,” Stone replied. “Have them call me when they turn into the block.”