“The friend...the new client I mentioned is going through a bit of a crisis. I need to be available.”
“We do have a telephone.”
“I know, Mom, but—”
“A friend or a client?” Veronica broke in, picking up on his slip of the tongue. “Which is it?”
He realized he’d been thinking of Lori Warren as more than a client since the minute she’d drawn him into her dilemma. How many people would be so willing to take someone else’s problem and make it their own? Change their whole life to accommodate it? He admired Lori’s determination. He admired the caring he suspected had taken her by surprise. The more he knew, the more he admired. “Both, I guess.”
“Is this a case I know about?” She almost didn’t wait for his no before she continued, “A female?”
His mother was far too quick at reading things that weren’t there into other things. “Yes, Mom, but she’s a client.”
“And a friend,” she reminded him. “Exactly what kind of problem is she having?” She sounded wary on his behalf.
“She’s a client, Mom. You know I—”
“Oh, I get so tired of all of you reverting to that client-privilege thing when you don’t want to tell me something. Why do you think I continue to work at the office as a receptionist a couple of days a week? So you don’t legally have that excuse,” she answered her own question.
Andy chuckled. Over the years, Veronica McAllister had been the sounding board for the ever-growing number of attorneys in the family. By mixing her keen sense for putting things into proper perspective with the ability to be dumber than a rock when warranted, she’d proved herself a valuable, hidden asset to the firm.
“I definitely will tell you about it later,” he promised, then added, “Shoot, before this is over, I suspect the whole world may know about this baby.”
“She has a baby?”
“Sort of.”
“Sort of?” Her voice rose. “Either you have a baby or you don’t.”
“Mom.” He’d said too much. “I have to go. I’ll talk to you later, okay? Mom?” he said again when there was silence on the other end of the line.
“It isn’t yours, is it, Andrew?” she asked.
“I promise. I’ll let you know when I decide to have kids, Mom,” he said dryly, then gently turned the screw. “Besides, aren’t you the one who keeps hounding me to have kids?”
“I want you get married first.” She was carefully indignant.
“You don’t always say that,” he taunted her.
“Well, you don’t have to worry about that again,” she promised. “I will be very specific in the way I phrase my nagging from now on.”
“Do that. I’ll see you later, Mom,” he said, then hung up quickly before she could think of another array of questions and demands.
His smile died as he looked at the clock again. It was past time he checked in on Lori Warren and baby Kris.
He must be as crazy as she was, he decided as he took a quick shower and dressed. The woman didn’t have an inkling how to take care of a newborn. If something happened to that baby...
The horrid dreams that had plagued him on and off all night surfaced to haunt him again. He knew they were purely a product of his imagination. He knew her throwaway remark about the need to leave was just that—a throwaway remark—but that didn’t help. When he was dressed, he didn’t even take the time to make a cup of instant coffee. Surely Lori would have coffee made.
By the time he made it to her door, he’d managed to calm himself again...until he knocked and didn’t get the slightest response.
He listened for a minute and didn’t hear a sound inside. Maybe they were both still asleep. He hesitated knocking again.
No, newborns didn’t sleep this long into the morning. His sisters’ kids were always up at daybreak. His light tap received no response. He pounded harder. Still no answer.
Increasing the tempo and the intensity, this time he also called her name. “Lori.”
“Is something the matter?”
Andy jumped a foot. He didn’t recognize this neighbor. With her hair in rollers, he wasn’t sure he would know the older woman even if they’d met before.
“Do you know Lori Warren?” He automatically pointed to her door.
“Sure.” The woman looked ready to launch into a history lesson.
“Have you seen her this morning?” he asked hurriedly to forestall it.
“No, but I heard her coming and going in the wee hours of the morning. Woke me up.”
An alarm went off inside him. “What time was that?”
“Around one o’clock.”
He breathed easier. The woman had probably heard him leaving.
“Then again around three-thirty or four. I couldn’t believe she was out and about so early. Nothing would have been open.”
“But she’s here now, don’t you think?” He was frowning, knew he’d added the “don’t you think” for his own benefit.
“Don’t know.” The woman widened the gap in her door. She wore incongruous fluffy cartoon characters on her feet. “I haven’t seen or heard her this morning.”
He felt her watching as he pounded the door again. Despite the chill in the semiheated hallway, he felt sweat bead on his brow.
“I’m sure she doesn’t sleep that sound,” the woman called over his knocking. “She might not be home. Maybe she went somewhere for Christmas.”
“Thanks.”
She nodded and quietly shut her door.
He leaned against Lori’s. His nightmare had featured a woman with Lori’s voice. He replayed it in his head. The woman called his name. He heard sirens. A baby’s cry. But the woman always remained out of reach, out of sight, hidden. Swamped by the same sense of desperation that had jolted him awake several times during the night, he flattened his ear against the door and listened.
Nothing. Not a single sound from inside. He caught and discarded several ideas about where she could be.
The neighbor’s door opened again. “Listen, I know she was meeting friends in Colorado after Christmas. Don’t think I heard her say when she planned to leave. Maybe she went early,” she offered helpfully, eyeing him with concern. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. I’m fine. Thanks for your help,” he added again, already dismissing her from his mind.
“Anytime.”
He stopped her again when she started to close the door. “You don’t happen to know what kind of car she drives?”
The woman’s scowl moved the rollers forward on her head as if they had a life of their own. “Some little red thing. I’m not sure what kind exactly but I’ll get my husband if you want. He’d know.”
“That’s okay.” He was going to have to convince the complex manager to let him in her apartment anyway. The kind of car Lori drove would be on the manager’s records somewhere.
The neighbor stared at him another second, then seemed to decide he’d disrupted her day enough and closed the door.
Wearily, Andy eyed Lori’s door again. He’d thought she trusted him. But he hadn’t been very reassuring—obviously not enough