Read Online Pretend You Don't See Her by Mary Higgins Clark - Free Book Online

wishes.” She opened her tote bag and took out the set of pages she had
brought with her.
                 Landi
glanced at them, then turned away.
                 Lacey
was sure that the sight of his daughter’s handwriting was starkly painful to
the man, but his only comment was a testy, “These aren’t the originals.”
                 “I
don’t have the original pages with me. I’m giving them to the police in the
morning.”
                 His
face flushed with sudden anger. “That’s not what Isabelle asked you to do.”
                 Lacey
stood up. “Mr. Landi, I don’t have a choice. Surely you understand that it’s
going to take a lot of explaining to the police to make them understand why I
removed evidence from a murder scene. I’m certain that eventually the original
pages will be returned to you, but for now, I’m afraid you’ll have to make do
with a copy.” As will I, she said to herself as she left.
                 He
did not even look up as she walked out.
                 When
Lacey arrived at her apartment, she turned on the entrance light and had taken
several steps inside before the chaos in front of her registered. Drawers had
been spilled, closets ransacked, furniture cushions had been tossed on the
floor. Even the refrigerator had been emptied and left open. Appalled and
terrified, she stared at the mess, then stumbled
through the debris to call the superintendent; while he dialed 911, she put in
a call to Detective Sloane.
                 He
arrived shortly after the local precinct cops. “You know what they were looking
for, don’t you,” Sloane said matter-of-factly.
                 “Yes,
I do,” Lacey told him. “Heather Landi’s journal. But
it’s not here. It’s in my office. I hope whoever did this hasn’t gone there.”
                 I
n the squad car on the way to her office, Detective Sloane read Lacey her
rights. “I was keeping the promise I made to a dying woman,” she protested.
“She asked me to read the journal and then give it to Heather Landi’s father,
and that’s what I’ve done. I took him a copy this evening.”
                 When
they got to her office, Sloane did not leave her side as she unlocked the
cabinet and reached for the manila envelope in which she had placed the
original pages of the journal.
                 He
opened the clasp, pulled out a few of the sheets, studied them, then looked at her. “You’re sure you’re giving me
everything?”
                 “This
is everything that was with Isabelle Waring when she died,” Lacey said, hoping
he wouldn’t press her. While it was the truth, it wasn’t the whole truth: The
copy of the journal pages that she had made for herself was locked in her desk.
                 “We’d
better go down to headquarters, Ms. Farrell. We need to talk about this whole
thing a bit more, I believe.”
                 “My
apartment,” she protested. “Please. I have to clean it up.” I sound ridiculous,
she thought. Someone may have killed Isabelle because of Heather’s journal, and
I might have been killed if I’d been home tonight, and all I can think of is
the mess there. She realized that her head was aching. It was after ten o’clock
and she hadn’t had anything to eat for hours.
                 “Your
apartment can wait to be cleaned,” Sloane told her brusquely. “We need to go
over all this now.”
                 But
when they reached the precinct station, he did have Detective Nick Mars send
out for a sandwich and coffee for her. Then he began. “All right, let’s take
this from the top again, Ms. Farrell,” he said.
                 The
same questions over and over, Lacey thought, shaking her head. Had she ever met
Heather Landi? Wasn’t it odd that on the basis of a chance meeting in an
elevator months