Janie was excited about having supper and a sleepover at James’s house Saturday night and Eliza was thrilled that she didn’t have to feel guilty about going out to dinner.
Louise had said to dress casually, so Eliza picked a long-sleeved tunic top and a pair of black slacks. Her jewelry selection was limited. She still had the gold hoop earrings, and her grandmother’s charm bracelet she had worn in Dallas. She thanked heaven again that the thief hadn’t gotten that
She left the house lights blazing, methodically set the alarm system, got into her station wagon and drove the few miles north to the Bear’s Nest luxury condominium development. The uniformed security guard stopped her at the gatehouse.
“I’m going to Mrs. Kendall’s.”
“Your name, please?”
“Eliza Blake.”
There was no name recognition on the guard’s face as he checked his clipboard. Nice change.
“Go ahead in, miss.”
Maybe she would have been smarter to move to a place like this, Eliza thought as she drove through the quiet streets. It would be comforting to have a security guard checking to see who came and went. But there were no big fences around the complex, and even if there were, if someone was determined to get to one of the townhouses, there was little anyone could do.
Range answered the doorbell, a drink in his hand.
“Here she is,” he smiled broadly, bussing her on the cheek. “Come on in. Louise is out on the deck. It’s still warm enough to have one last cocktail out there.”
It was just getting dark and Louise had lit votive candles in tiny lanterns perched along the deck rails. They sipped their drinks and chatted animatedly about the upcoming presidential election until Louise let out a scream.
“What?” asked Range, alarm on his face.
“Oh my God, I think I just saw bats fly by!”
Range settled back in his seat and smirked. “Don’t worry, honey. Eliza can tell you all about bats. There’s nothing to be concerned about. Right, Eliza?”
“Well, she can tell me about it inside, because I’m getting out of here.” Quickly Louise carried her scotch and soda through the French doors into the living room and the other two followed her.
Eliza explained the FRESHER LOOK research she was doing, but Louise remained unconvinced. “I don’t care. Bats creep me out and nothing is going to change that. Let’s talk about something more pleasant.”
“Okay,” agreed Eliza, changing the subject. “I got a good plug in for Fragile X yesterday,” she offered brightly.
“How so?”
“The Record is doing an article on my move to the area. I told the reporter I would be working with you on fundraising for FRAXA.”
“Thanks, Eliza, that’s great. Every little bit helps. And even better, Range tells me that this week’s FRESHER LOOK piece is on Fragile X. That should do a lot of good in getting the word out. I’m so glad you’re doing that story.”
As Louise excused herself and went to the kitchen to check on the roast, Range wanted to hear more about the newspaper interview.
“Do you think it was wise to publicize the fact that you’ve moved out here?” he asked. “You know, with those threats and all? Why let anyone know where you live?”
Eliza’s eyes popped. “Range Bullock, I can’t believe it! You are the one who always wants all the publicity you can get for the show. I thought you’d be pleased.”
“All the publicity in the world won’t help the ratings if you aren’t around to sit in the anchor chair,” he blurted.
Eliza’s face sank.
“I’m sorry, Eliza. That didn’t come out right.”
“What didn’t come out right?” asked Louise, hearing the tail end of the conversation as she returned to the living room.
“Range is worried about some threats I’ve been getting.”
Louise took a seat in a crewel-covered armchair. “I know he’s worried, and I am too. I remember when Bill used to get those crazy letters. I know he didn’t even tell me about most of them, but there were a few over the years that even shook him up. They were truly blood-chilling.”
Eliza played with the charm on her bracelet. “It really is one of the downsides of this business, isn’t it? You do your job and report your story, but you never know exactly who is watching or how they are going to respond.”
“Maybe we should do a story on that,” suggested Range.
Eliza looked at him as if he were crazy.
“I’m serious, Eliza. I think it’s a good story.”
“No way, Range. I’m not the least bit interested in telling the country what’s going on with me as far as all of tins is concerned.” She was adamant.
There was a silent pause in the room. Louise got up and took Eliza’s glass to refill it.
“Did they ever find out what happened to Linda Anderson, Range?” Louise asked as she stood at the butler’s-table bar and dropped fresh ice cubes into the crystal, double-old-fashioned glass.
“God, I don’t know. I never heard anything.”
“Who’s Linda Anderson?” Eliza inquired.
“She was an anchor for Garden State Network. She was quite good, and very attractive. We were considering hiring her when she disappeared.” Range squinted. “That must have been about five years ago now. What made you think of her?”
Louise handed the refilled glass back and looked into her guest’s face. “Well, I think Linda Anderson looked a bit like you, Eliza. Didn’t she, Range?”
Startled, Range stared at his anchorwoman. “You’re right. She did.”