All Around the Town by Mary Higgins Clark Read Free Book Online

She read the letter quickly then again, slowly. Gregg had just learned about the accident. His expression of sympathy was profoundly moving. He wrote about his affection for John and Marie Kenyon, about the wonderful visits to their home, how rough it must be for her and Laurie now.
    The final paragraph was disturbing: "Sarah, I tried to phone Laurie, and she sounded so despondent when she answered. Then she screamed something like, "I won't, I won't," and hung up on me. I'm terribly worried about her. She's so fragile. I know you're taking good care of her, but be very careful. I'll be back at Clinton in January and would like to see you. My love to you, and kiss that girl for me, please. Gregg."
    Her hands trembling, Sarah carried the mail into the library. Tomorrow she'd call Dr. Carpenter and read this to him. She knew he had given Laurie antidepressants, but was she taking them? The answering machine was blinking. Dr. Carpenter had called and left his home number.
    When she reached him, she told him about Gregg's letter then listened, shocked and frightened, to his careful explanation of why he had seen Dr. Justin Donnelly in New York and why it was imperative that Sarah see him as soon as possible. He gave her the number of Donnelly's service. Her voice low and strained, she had to repeat her phone number twice to the operator.
    Sophie had roasted a chicken, prepared a salad. Sarah's throat closed as she picked at the food. She had just made coffee when Dr. Donnelly returned her call. His day was full, but he could see her at six tomorrow evening. She hung up, reread Gregg's letter and, with a frantic sense of urgency, dialed Laurie. There was no answer. She tried every half hour until finally at eleven o'clock she heard the receiver being picked up. Laurie's "Hello" was cheerful enough. They chatted for a few minutes, then Laurie said, "How's this for a pain? After dinner I propped myself up on the bed to research this damn paper and fell asleep. Now I've got to burn the midnight oil."

    Chapter 19
    AT ELEVEN O'CLOCK on Monday evening, Professor Allan Grant stretched out on his bed and switched on the night table lamp. The long bedroom window was partially open, but the room was not cool enough for his taste. Karen, his wife, used to teasingly tell him that in a previous incarnation he must have been a polar bear. Karen hated a cold bedroom. Not that she was around much to joke about it anymore, he thought as he threw back the blanket and swung his feet onto the carpet.
    For the last three years, Karen had been working at a travel agency in the Madison Arms Hotel in Manhattan. At first she'd stayed overnight in New York only occasionally. Then more and more often she'd phone in late afternoon. "Sweetie, we're so busy, and I've got stacks of paperwork. Can you fend for yourself?"
    He'd fended for himself for thirty-four years before he'd met her six years ago on a tour of Italy. Getting back in the habit wasn't that hard. Karen now had an apartment in the hotel and usually stayed there most of the week. She did come home weekends.
    Grant padded across the room and cranked the window wide open. The curtains billowed in, followed by an eminently satisfying blast of chilly air. He hurried toward the bed but hesitated and turned in the direction of the hallway. It was no use. He was not sleepy. Another bizarre letter had come in his office mail today. Who the hell was Leona? He had no students by that name, had never had.
    The house was a comfortable-size ranch model. Allan had bought it before he and Karen were married. For a time she'd seemed interested in decorating it and replacing shabby or dull furniture, but now it was beginning to look as it had in his bachelor days.
    Scratching his head and yanking up pajama bottoms, which always seemed to settle around his hips. Grant walked down the hallway past the guest bedrooms, across the center hall, past the kitchen, living and dining rooms, and into the den. He turned on