Free Before I Say Good-Bye by Mary Higgins Clark Page A

have to tell you that’s pure imagination,” he had responded with a hearty, affectionate laugh.
    We laughed together a lot, Gert thought. He wasn’t like Cornelius, who gets so impatient with me. Adam even came here a few times when our psychic group met. He was genuinely interested. He wanted to know why I believe so devoutly that it’s possible to contact people who have passed on.
    Well, it is possible, she thought. Unfortunately it’s not a gift that I have, but some of the others truly can become channels between those of us who are here and those who have left this plane. I’ve seen how comforted people are after they’ve contacted someone they loved who isn’t with us anymore. If Nell has trouble accepting Adam’s passing, I’m going to insist that she try to reach him through channeling. She will feel much better if she can find closure after this terrible loss. Adam will tell her that it was time for him to go, but that she mustn’t cling to grief, because he is here; it will make everything much easier for her.
    That decision made, Gert felt comforted. The kettle was whistling, and she turned it off quickly as she reached for a cup and saucer. Tonight the usual cheery sound of the steam forcing its way through the narrowpassageway in the cover over the spout had become a mournful wail. It was almost like a lost soul shrieking for surcease, she thought uneasily.

sixteen
    A S A KID GROWING UP in Bayside, Queens, Jack Sclafani had always wanted to be the cop when the neighborhood kids played cops and robbers. At school, he was a serious and quiet student, winning first a scholarship to St. John’s Prep, and then a second one to Fairfield College, where a Jesuit education honed his already logical mind.
    Eschewing an academic career, his next step was to earn a master’s degree in criminology. Then, with his formal education behind him, Jack joined the NYPD as a rookie cop.
    Now, some eighteen years later, at age forty-two, living in Brooklyn Heights, married to a successful real estate broker and the father of twin boys, Sclafani was a detective first class on the district attorney’s elite squad, an assignment in which he took great pride. In his time on the force, he had worked with many fine men, but the one he had known the longest and still liked the best was his partner, George Brennan. This was Sclafani’s day off, but he roused himself from his prebedtime nap when he heard Brennan being interviewed on the eleven o’clock news, fielding reporters’ questions about the cabin cruiser that had exploded in the harbor early that evening.
    Using the remote, he turned up the volume and leaned forward, fully alert now, his attention riveted to the scene he was watching. Brennan was standing outside a modest house in Little Neck, only a fifteen-minute drive from Bayside.
    “Mrs. Ryan has confirmed that her husband, Jimmy, an employee of the Sam Krause Construction Company, was planning to be at a meeting today on the boat, Cornelia II, Brennan was saying. “A man of his description was seen boarding the boat before it sailed out into the harbor, so we are assuming that Mr. Ryan was one of the victims.”
    Jack listened intently as questions were thrown at Brennan.
    “How many people were on the boat?” an off-camera voice asked.
    “We’ve learned that in addition to Mr. Ryan, four other people were expected to attend the meeting,” he replied.
    “Isn’t it unusual for a diesel-fueled boat to explode?”
    “We’ve investigating the explosion,” Brennan said, his words clipped, giving nothing away.
    “Isn’t it true that Sam Krause was about to be indicted for bid rigging?
    “No comment.”
    “Any hope of survivors?”
    “There’s always hope. Search and rescue is still under way.”
    Sam Krause! Jack thought. You bet he was about to be indicted. So he was on that boat! Son of a gun! The guy was a blueprint for everything rotten in the construction business. When they start looking into