Free Pretend You Don't See Her by Mary Higgins Clark Page A

upset that she’s a little late. My God, she came within a hair
of being killed two days ago, then had her apartment burglarized last night.
She certainly doesn’t need to be hassled anymore, Jay.”
                 “I
agree,” Alex Carbine said heartily. “She’s had a rough couple of days.”
                 Mona
Farrell looked at Carbine with a grateful smile. She was never totally at ease
with her frequently pompous son-in-law. It didn’t take much to make him testy,
and he usually had little patience with anyone, but she had noticed that he was
deferential to Alex.
                 This
evening they were having cocktails in the living room, while the boys were
watching television in the den. Bonnie was with the grown-ups, however, having
begged to stay up past her bedtime to see Lacey. She was standing at the
window, watching for her.
                 It’s
eight-fifteen, Mona thought. Lacey was due here at seven-thirty. This really
isn’t like her. What can be keeping her?
                 The
full impact of everything that was happening hit Lacey when she arrived home at
five-thirty and realized that for practical purposes she was out of a job.
Parker Sr. had promised that she would continue to receive her base salary
—“For a short time to come, at least,” he had said.
                 He’s
going to fire me, she realized. He’s going to use the excuse that I jeopardized
the firm by copying and concealing evidence there. I’ve worked for him for
eight years. I’m one of his best agents. Why would he even want to get rid of
me? His own son gave me Curtis Caldwell’s name and told me to set up an
appointment. And I bet he’s not planning to give me any of the severance due
after so many years of employment. He’ll say the firing’s for cause. Can he get
away with that? It looks like I’m about to be in trouble on several fronts, she
thought, shaking her head at the sudden bad fortune that had come her way. I
need to talk to a lawyer, but who ?
                 A
name came to her mind. Jack Regan!
                 He
and his wife, Margaret, a couple in their mid-fifties, lived on the fifteenth
floor of her building. She had chatted with them at a cocktail party last
Christmas and remembered hearing people ask him about a criminal case he had
just won.
                 She
decided to call right away, but then found that their phone number wasn’t
listed.
                 The
worst thing that can happen is that they’ll slam the door in my face, Lacey
decided, as she took the elevator to the fifteenth floor. Ringing their bell,
she realized that she was glancing nervously around in the corridor.
                 Their
surprise at seeing her gave way to a genuinely warm welcome. They were having a predinner sherry and insisted she join them. They had
heard about the burglary.
                 “That’s
part of the reason that I’m here,” she began.
                 Lacey
left an hour later, having retained Regan to represent her in the likely event
that she was facing indictment for holding on to the journal pages.
                 “The
least of the charges would be obstructing governmental administration,” Regan
had told her. “But if they believe you had an ulterior motive for taking the
journal, it could get a lot more serious than that.”
                 “My
only motive was to keep a promise to a dying woman,” Lacey protested.
                 Regan
smiled, but his eyes were serious. “You don’t have to convince me, Lacey, but
it wasn’t the smartest thing to do.”
                 She
kept her car in the garage in the basement of her building, a luxury that, if
everything went as she feared, she probably could no longer afford. It was one
of several unpleasant realizations she had had to face that day.
                 The
rush