Read Online Call After Midnight by Tess Gerritsen - Free Book Online

Yes, I’ll hold.”
    The next pause seemed to last forever. Nick began to pace back and forth, like an animal in a cage, first pulling off his overcoat, then loosening his tie. His agitation made him entirely out of place in her small, tidy living room.
    â€œShouldn’t you call the police?” she asked.
    â€œThat’s next on the list. First I’d like an informal chat with the bureau. If I can just get through the damned lines.”
    â€œThe bureau? You mean the FBI? But why?”
    â€œThere’s something about all this that bugs me….”
    His words were lost when the kettle abruptly whistled. Sarah filled the teapot and carried the tray out to the living room, where Nick was still waiting on the phone.
    â€œDammit,” he muttered to himself. “Where the hell are you, Greenstein?”
    â€œTea, Mr. O’Hara?”
    â€œHmm?” He turned and saw the cup she held out to him. “Yeah. Thanks.”
    She sat down, holding a cup and saucer on her lap. “Does Mr. Greenstein work for the FBI?”
    â€œNo. But he has a friend who—hello? Tim? It’s about time! Don’t you answer your calls anymore?”
    In the silence that followed, Nick’s face and the way he stood, with his shoulders squared and his back rigid, told Sarah that something was wrong. He was livid. The loud clatter of his teacup on the saucer made her jump.
    â€œHow the hell did Ambrose get wind of it?” he snapped into the receiver, turning away from Sarah.
    Another silence. She stared at his back, wondering what kind of catastrophe had made Nick O’Hara so angry. Up until now she’d thought of him as a man completely in control of his emotions. No longer. His anger surprised her, yet somehow it also reassured her that he was human.
    â€œOkay,” he said into the phone. “I’ll be there in half an hour. Look, Tim, something else has come up. Someone’s broken into Sarah’s apartment. No, nothing’s been touched. Can you get me the number of this FBI friend? I want to— Yeah, I’m sorry I got you into this, but…” He turned and gave Sarah a harassed look. “Okay! Half an hour. My trip to the woodshed. Meet you in Ambrose’s office.” He hung up with a scowl.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” she asked.
    â€œSo end eight glorious years with the State Department,” he muttered, furiously snatching up his overcoat and walking toward the door. “I’ve gotta go. Look, you’ve still got the chain. Use it. Better yet, stay with your friend tonight. And call the police. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
    She followed him into the hallway. “But Mr. O’Hara—”
    â€œLater!” he called over his shoulder as he stalked away. She heard his footsteps echo in the stairwell, and moments later the lobby door slammed shut.
    She closed the door and slid the chain in place, then slowly gazed around the room. Her stack of Advances in Microbiology lay on the coffee table. A vase of peonies dropped petals onto the bookshelf. Everything was as it should be.
    No, not quite. Something was different. If she could just put her finger on it…
    She was halfway across the room when it suddenly struck her—there was an empty space on the bookshelf. Her wedding picture was gone.
    A cry of anger welled up in her throat. For the first time since she’d returned to the apartment, she felt a sense of violation, of fury that someone had invaded her house. It had only been a photograph, a pair of happy faces beaming at a camera, yet it meant more to her than anything else she owned. The picture had been all she had left of Geoffrey. Even if her marriage had been mere illusion, she never wanted to forget how she had loved him. Of all the things in her apartment, why would anyone steal a photograph?
    Her heart skipped a beat as the phone rang. It was probably Abby, calling as promised. She