As he sipped, Philip debated whether to call Molly and tell her immediately about the Hilmers, then decided against it. I’ll wait until I’ve actually seen them myself, he decided. Maybe there’s even more they can tell that will help her. And I’ve got to get a sketch artist up here-tomorrow, if possible-so we can get an idea of the guy they saw in the parking lot. This could be our salvation!

Oh, Molly, Philip thought yearningly as the image of her face, haunted and sad, filled his mind. I’d give my right arm to see you free from this nightmare. And I’d give anything in the world to see you smile.

82

With methodical care, Calvin Whitehall prepared Lou for his assignment in West Redding. He explained that the element of surprise was essential to the plan if it was to work.

“Hopefully, the window from the porch to the laboratory will be open so you can quietly toss in the gasoline-soaked rags; otherwise you will have no choice but to break a pane,” Cal said. “Now I realize that the fuse connected to our little device is short, but it should give you enough time to be down the steps and away from the building before the explosion.”

Lou listened attentively as Cal went on to tell him that Dr. Logue had called, all excited about meeting the press. It was clear he was eager to show Fran Simmons his laboratory, so Lou could count on the two of them being upstairs in the lab when the bomb went off. “It will appear much more likely to be an unfortunate accident if what’s left of them is found in the lab,” Cal said casually, “to say nothing of the fact that if they were downstairs, they might have time to make it out.

“Escape will be impossible from upstairs,” he went on. “The door from the laboratory to the porch has two separate locks, and it’s kept bolted at all times because Dr. Logue is fearful that attempts may be made on his life.”

He’s right to be fearful, Lou thought, but then admitted to himself that, as usual, Cal ’s attention to detail was remarkable and no doubt would prove to be a safeguard for him.

“Unless you botch the job completely, Lou-and need I say, don’t!-the fire and subsequent explosion will take care of the dual problems of the doctor and Fran Simmons. The farmhouse is over one hundred years old, and the interior staircase is very narrow and steep. There is no way, assuming the explosion is as great as I anticipate, that either or both of them could get out of the laboratory, run down the hall, and then get down those stairs in time to escape. However, you should be prepared for that eventuality, of course.”

“Be prepared” was Cal ’s way of telling him to carry his gun. It had been seven years since he had fired it, but some skills never got rusty. Like riding a bike or swimming, Lou thought-you never forget how to do it. His most recent weapon of choice had been a good, sharp knife.

The farmhouse was in an isolated, wooded area, and although the explosion might be heard, Cal had assured him he would have enough time to be out of the immediate area and back on a main road before the police and fire departments appeared. Lou tried not to show his impatience at all the information Cal was throwing at him. He’d been to the farmhouse often enough to get the lay of the land, and he certainly knew how to take care of himself.

At five o’clock Lou left the apartment. It was unnecessarily early, but here again, Cal believed in being ahead of the game, and anticipating potential delays like traffic tie-ups was important if all was to go according to plan. “You ought to allow yourself more than enough time to park the car out of view of the farmhouse before Fran Simmons arrives,” Cal had cautioned.

As Lou got in the car, Cal came around the side of the garage. “Just want to see you off,” he said with a friendly smile. “Jenna is spending the evening with Molly Lasch. When you get back, come over to the house and have a drink with me.”

And after assignments like this, it’s okay if I call you Cal, Lou thought. Thanks a lot, old buddy. He started the car and headed to the Merritt Parkway north, on the first leg of his important trip to West Redding.

83

It seemed to Fran that Molly’s state had worsened overnight. There were dark crescents under her eyes; her pupils were enormous; her lips and skin, ashen. When she spoke, her voice was low and hesitant. Fran almost had to strain to hear her.

They sat in the study, and several times, Fran noticed Molly looking around the room as if she were surprised at what she was seeing.

She seems so damn alone, so forlorn, Fran thought; she seems so worried. If only her mother and father had been able to be with her. “Molly, I know it’s none of my business, but I have to ask you,” she said. “Can’t your mother possibly leave your father and get up here? You need her to be with you.”

Molly shook her head, and for an instant the passivity left her voice. “Absolutely not, Fran. Had my father not had a stroke, both of them would have been here; I know that. I’m afraid that the stroke was a lot more serious than they admit. I’ve spoken to him, and he sounds pretty good, but with all the misery I’ve caused them, if something were to happen to him while she was up here, I would go absolutely mad.”

“How much misery will it cause them if they lose you?” Fran asked bluntly.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m worried sick about you, and so is Philip, and so, I’m sure, is Jenna. Let’s say it straight-there’s a damn good chance you’ll be taken into custody again on Monday.”

“Ah, we finally say it straight,” Molly said with a sigh. “Thank you, Fran.”

“Hear me out. I believe there’s a very good chance that even if you do have to go back to Niantic, you’ll be out again very soon-and not on parole, but completely exonerated!”

“Once upon a time,” Molly murmured dreamily. “I didn’t know you believed in fairy tales.”

“Stop it!” Fran begged. “Molly, I hate to leave you here like this, but I can’t stay with you right now. I have an appointment that is desperately important to a lot of people, including you especially. Otherwise I wouldn’t leave your side. You know why? It’s because I think you’ve already given up; I think you’ve decided that you’re not even going to appear before that parole board.”

Molly raised her eyebrows quizzically, but did not contradict her.

“Trust me, Molly, please. We’re getting to the truth. I know we are. Believe in me. Believe in Philip. It may not even be important to you, but that guy loves you, and he won’t rest until he proves you’re the real victim in all this.”

“I loved that line in An American Tragedy,” Molly murmured. “I hope I’m remembering it properly: ‘Love me till I die and then forget me.’ ”

Fran got up. “Molly,” she said quietly, “if you really decide to end your life, you’ll find a way to do it whether you’re alone or with ‘the Pope’s standing army,’ as my grandmother used to say.

“I’m going to tell you something: I am angry at my father for committing suicide. No, I’m more than angry-I’m furious. He stole a lot of money, and he would have gone to prison. But he also would have come out of prison, and I would have been there with bells on to greet him.”

Molly sat silently, staring at her hands now.

Impatiently, Fran brushed tears from her eyes. “Worse comes to worst,” she said, “you serve out your term. I don’t think you will, but I’ll concede the point. You still would be young enough when you got out to enjoy-and I mean really enjoy-another forty years or so. You didn’t kill Annamarie Scalli. We all know that, and Philip will blow the case apart. So for God’s sake, girl, pull yourself together. You blue bloods are supposed to be classy. Prove it!”