Free Nighttime Is My Time: A Novel by Mary Higgins Clark Page B

twenty miles away.
    Never in a million years, The Owl thought, dismissing the idea as absurd.
    22
    From the moment she met Sam Deegan, Jean understood why Alice had spoken so highly of him. She liked his looks: a strong face enhanced by clear dark blue eyes. She also liked the warmth of his smile and his firm handshake.
    "I told Sam about Lily and about the fax you received yesterday," Alice said, her voice low.
    "There's been another one," Jean whispered. "Alice, I'm so frightened for Lily. I almost couldn't make myself come down to dinner. It's been so hard to try to make conversation when I don't know what may be happening to her."
    Before Alice could reply, Jean felt a tug on her sleeve as a cheery voice cried, "Jean Sheridan. My, how happy I am to see you! You used to baby-sit for my kids when you were thirteen."
    Jean managed a smile. "Oh, Mrs. Rhodeen, it's so good to see you again."
    "Jean, people want to talk to you," Sam said. "Alice and I will go over and get a table in the cocktail lounge. Join us as soon as you can."
    It was fifteen minutes before she could break away from the local people who had attended the dinner and who remembered her growing up or who had read her books and wanted to talk to her about them. But at last she was with Alice and Sam at a corner table where they could speak without being overheard.
    As they sipped the champagne Sam had ordered, she told them about the flower and note she had found in the cemetery. "The rose couldn't have been there long," she said nervously. "It almost has to have been put there by someone in the reunion group who knew I was going to West Point and was sure I'd stop at Reed's grave. But why is he or she playing this game? Why these vague threats? Why not come out with the reason for being in touch with me now?"
    "May I be in touch with you now?" Mark Fleischman asked pleasantly. He was standing at the empty chair beside her, a glass in his hand.
    "I was looking to ask you to have a nightcap, Jean," he explained. "I couldn't find you, then I spotted you over here."
    He saw the hesitation on the faces of the people at the table, and acknowledged to himself that he had expected it. He had been perfectly aware that they were in a serious discussion, but he wanted to know whom Jean was with and what they were talking about.
    "Of course, join us," Jean said, trying to sound welcoming. How much did he overhear? she wondered as she introduced him to Alice and Sam.
    "Mark Fleischman," Sam said. "
Dr
. Mark Fleischman. I've seen your program and like it very much. You give darn good advice. I especially admire the way you handle teenagers. When they're your guests, you have a way of letting them vent their feelings and feel comfortable about doing it. If more kids opened up and got decent advice, they would realize they were not alone and their problems wouldn't seem so overwhelming."
    Jean watched as Mark Fleischman's face brightened with a pleased smile at the obvious sincerity of Sam Deegan's praise.
    He was so quiet as a kid, she thought. He was always so shy. I never would have guessed that he'd end up a television personality. Was Gordon right that Mark became a psychiatrist specializing in adolescents because of his own problem after his brother's death?
    "I know you grew up here, Mark. Do you still have family in town?" Alice Sommers asked.
    "My father. He's never moved from the old homestead. Retired, but does a lot of traveling, I gather."
    Jean was startled. "At dinner, Gordon and I were talking about the fact that none of us has roots here anymore."
    "I don't have roots here, Jean," Mark said quietly. "I haven't been in touch with my father in years. Although he clearly must realize from all the publicity about this reunion and the fact that I'm here as one of the honorees, I haven't heard from him."
    He caught the note of bitterness that had crept into his voice, and was ashamed of it. What made me open up like that to two perfect strangers and to Jeannie