The phone on my desk brrng-brnnggged as I walked past it. I ignored it and headed for the door. George Greene ran after me.
“Lanie, you should get that.”
“Why?” I said, not slowing down.
“It’s probably Blackie. He’s been calling for the past five minutes. Says it’s urgent.”
That stopped me. “Did he say what it was about?”
“Nah. Just for you to please call him back.”
With an irritated sigh, I went back to my desk, snatched up the phone and called the station house. I was put through to Blackie immediately.
“Ah, Lanie. I’m glad I got you.” He had a thick brogue when he was upset, and it was thick now. “They’ve gone and let the devil out of the dog house.”
His meaning took a moment to register.
“You mean Echo?”
“Aye, He’s free.”
I sank down in my chair and pressed the phone to my face. “How did that happen?”
“It was Mabel Dean. She dropped the charges.”
He kept on talking, but I’d stopped listening. Why would Mabel lose her nerve? Why now, when Whitfield was dead and Echo had been jailed? And why didn’t she tell me?
“It happened about an hour ago,” Blackie was saying. “I just came in and found out, or I would’ve phoned sooner.”
“That’s all right. I …” My voice trailed away. I didn’t know what to say.
Blackie cursed under his breath. “A mess it is, a royal mess. What are we going to do? I’m afraid he’ll come after you.” His use of the word ‘we’ touched me.
“We are not going to do anything. I’m just going to go on with my … my life.” I’d started to say ‘my job.’
“You can’t just continue as though nothing’s happened. The guy’s out there.”
“I know. And I’ll be careful. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”
I think I hung up on him. He was in the middle of saying something, warning me again, when I put the receiver down, just simply put it down. You should’ve known, my little inner voice said. You’ve should’ve expected this.
In a daze, I called Hilda’s phone number. Mabel answered.
I didn’t even bother to identify myself. I just said, “Why?”
“You’ve heard,” she said, her voice full of guilt.
“You and I, we were just talking. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I couldn’t.” Silence. “Miss Lanie, I’m so ashamed.”
I closed my eyes and leaned on the desk. “He got to you. How?”
“It wasn’t just him. It was all of them. I couldn’t take it any more.”
She’d been getting death threats, she said. Terrifying letters sent to the hospital, anonymous phones calls from Whitfield's supporters. Some newspaper report had carried her name and somebody in Hilda’s house had recognized her and told other people. Now it was horrible, terrible.
“These people are crazy. What they’re saying and writing. You can’t imagine.”
Oh, but I could. Hadn’t I been getting the same treatment? I should’ve known that she would be in for it, too. “It’s okay, Mabel. I understand.”
“I didn’t want to, Miss Lanie, but—”
“No, it’s okay.” I paused. “I take it you’re not scared he’ll come after you?”
“Well … yes, I am. But he only went after me that one time, and he did it ‘cause Sexton told him to. Without Sexton, I don’t think he’ll bother, especially now, with the newspaper report and everything.”
She was probably right. She was safe—as safe as anyone could be under the circumstances.
I thought about my house. I’d overcome memories of the attack to again feel good there, and seconds ago, I’d been looking forward to returning home. Almost out of a job, that house was the only refuge I had left. But now, once again, fear surged at the very thought of entering it.
Would he be waiting for me?