On the Street Where you Live by Mary Higgins Clark Read Free Book Online Page A

Nobody came. I started making friends with the bail bondsmen. They took a liking to me and began telling their clients that I was a good lawyer. And, even better than that, I was cheap.”
    The other Todd in the partnership was Walter’s son, Nicholas. “Looks like me, sounds like me, and before he’s finished, he’ll be as good a lawyer as I am,” Walter Todd would brag. “I swear Nick could get Satan off the hook.”
    He always ignored Nick’s protest. “I would hardly consider that a compliment, Dad.”
    On March 21st, Nick Todd and his father worked late on an impending trial, then Nick joined his parents for dinner in their spacious U.N. Plaza apartment.
    At ten minutes of eleven he started to leave, but then decided to wait and watch the CBS eleven o’clock news with them. “There may be something about the trial,” he said. “There’s a rumor floating that we’re working on a plea bargain.”
    The Martha Lawrence story was the breaking headline. “That poor family,” his mother said, sighing.“I guess it’s better for them to know, but to lose a child . . .” Anne Todd’s voice trailed off. When Nick was two, she had given birth to a baby girl whom they named Amelia. She had lived only a day.
    She would have been thirty-six next week, Anne thought. Even as a newborn she looked like me. In her mind she could see Amelia alive, a young woman with dark hair and blue-green eyes. I know she would have loved music as much as I do. We’d have gone to concerts together . . .
    She blinked back the tears that always welled in her eyes when she thought of her lost daughter.
    Nick realized what had been pricking at his subconscious. “Isn’t Spring Lake the place where Emily Graham bought a house?” he asked.
    Walter Todd nodded. “I still wonder why I let her get away with waiting until May to come into the office,” he said, gruffly. “We could use her now.”
    â€œMaybe because, after seeing her in Albany, you thought she had something worth waiting for,” Nick suggested amiably.
    An image of Emily Graham floated through his mind. Before they offered her the job, he and his father had gone up to Albany to observe her in court. She had been brilliant, getting an acquittal for a client who had been charged with criminally negligent homicide.
    She had gone out to lunch with them. Nick remembered the eloquent praise his usually taciturn father had heaped on her.
    They’re as alike as two peas in a pod, he thought now. Once they take on a case they’d just about kill for the client.
    Since she’d taken the New York apartment, Emily had been in to see them several times, settling her office and getting to know the staff. Nick realized that he was looking forward very much to having her there every day.
    His lanky six-foot-two frame unfolded as he stood up. “I’m on my way. I want to hit the gym early tomorrow, and it’s been a long day.”
    His mother accompanied him to the door. “I wish you’d wear a hat,” she fretted. “It’s terribly cold out.”
    He bent down and kissed her cheek. “You forgot to tell me not to forget to wear a scarf.”
    Anne hesitated, then glanced into the living room where her husband was still intent on hearing the news. Dropping her voice, she begged, “Nick, please tell me what’s wrong, because, don’t deny it, there is something wrong. Are you sick and not letting me know?”
    â€œTrust me. I’m in perfect health,” he reassured her. “It’s just that the Hunter trial is worrying me.”
    â€œDad isn’t worried about it,” Anne protested. “He said he’s sure the worst possible scenario is a hung jury. But you’re like me. You always were a worrier.”
    â€œWe’re even. You’re worried about me and I’m worried about the