know. I didn't want to shock you.'
'You… I…'
'Don't worry,' he said hurriedly. 'Casey said to tell you that everything will be fine. I'm sure she's going to call you any minute.'
He didn't want her to panic, to bolt from her apartment or make any rash calls. If she believed him, she would wait by the phone.
'Okay,' she said tentatively.
'I'll be right there,' he said, then hung up.
Lipton took a small, dark duffel bag and began to carefully load it with the supplies he needed. He was in no great hurry. He knew Casey was unavailable and she was the only person Patti would call. After all, he was a client, and confidentiality was sacrosanct. He liked the idea of taking his time, of savoring every moment in anticipation of what he was about to do. He fussed over each item that went into the bag and dwelled affectionately on the role each would play in his scheme. The last thing to go in was a Tech-9 the ultimate handheld firepower. It was for the emergency he'd never had, but to Lipton, thoroughness was its own reward.
Fully prepared, he shouldered the small bag and slipped back into the front seat to look around the complex. There was a young man in a short-sleeve white shirt and tie getting out of an aqua green Mustang. Lipton followed his progress across the lot and into his apartment. When the door closed, he got out of his van and crossed the steaming blacktop. After one final glance around, he slowly began to scale the outside staircase two steps at a time toward the young lawyer's apartment on the third floor.
CHAPTER 33
Casey sat at Sales's kitchen table, unable to focus on the work in front of her. Papers spilled importantly from her briefcase, but she found herself rereading the same passages of a brief Patti had prepared for an upcoming hearing. It was much easier for her mind to wander over the mounted animal head trophies staring down at her from the high log walls, or to consider the rich history behind the different Native American artifacts. There was something strangely familiar about the rustic austerity of Sales's cabin that made Casey uneasy. This was the setting, after all, in which she'd been raised. Her father and older brother had been hunters and she'd grown up on venison.
She had time to be introspective now because her concern over Lipton's appearance had waned nearly an hour ago. Each minute that ticked off the clock seemed to mock their plan. Would Lipton really try to abduct her again after what had happened last night? And, if he did, was he desperate enough to strike at the first possible opportunity? Apparently not.
Casey got up and searched the refrigerator for a diet soda. All she found was orange juice and beer, so she went to the tap and filled a glass, holding it up against the light from the window and looking at the cloudy well water with disgust. It wasn't unlike what she'd had to drink as a girl in Odessa, the same rural setting, the same brackish water. The sight of it was repulsive. She longed for a cold bottle of crystal-clear Evian.
Casey was suddenly and clearly gripped by panic. What if she was kidding herself? Did she really think she could just unravel the life it had taken her so long to weave? Wasn't she actually part of the upper crust now? Wasn't it possible that she needed Taylor as much or more than he needed her? Could she really do without his money, his manners, his good looks, and his connections? Could she really just leave him? Casey felt panic tighten its grip, as if she had suddenly found herself in a hopeless dream. She had never been confused before. All her life she had known exactly what she'd wanted.
Now she felt that she knew nothing. Her heart told her a better life was out there for her. But her mind was spinning, all because of a cloudy glass of water and the familiar feel of a spartan cabin in the sticks. She didn't know if she had the courage to really change her life. Her confidence had been shaken. Her brazen certainty that every move she made in life was the right one had been crippled by the Lipton case. She had been hunted and terrorized. Her husband had betrayed her. All those things, things she never imagined could happen to her, had happened within a few short days.
She held her nose and gulped down a few mouthfuls of the water. It tasted as bad to her as she remembered. Scared and confused, she sat back down and exhaled a long, trembling breath. Then she heard something at the back of the cabin that brought her back to the immediate present, a door slowly opening. She jumped to her feet and tiptoed across the wood-planked floor. The hall leading to the back of the cabin was dark. At the sight of a figure moving toward her, Casey's chest tightened.
'It's me,' Sales said quietly. He moved down the hall, gimping slightly from sitting for so long in the same position. 'He's not coming.'
'I know,' she said in an unnecessary whisper. 'If he was going to, he would have by now. There's no way he'd think I'd have any reason to stay here this long. I figured after the first half hour that he wasn't coming.'
Sales moved through the kitchen and pushed aside a dusty curtain to peer out at the dirt road that led to his place. He let the curtain drop and then went into the great room to his gun cabinet. From the bottom drawer he withdrew a nickel-plated snub-nose.38 along with a calf holster, then returned to the kitchen.
Casey tried to bury her inner doubts for the time being. She watched Sales critically from across the breakfast bar and asked, 'What's that for? You already have a gun.'
'It's always good to have backup,' Sales said. His boot was up on a chair now and his loose pant leg was pulled up to his knee as he strapped the holster to his leg.
'So…' Casey said as he spun the cylinder, snapped it shut, and placed it in the holster, 'what's next?'
'We just keep setting you up,' he said, turning his attention back to her. 'Sooner or later, he's going to make a move.'
'Sooner or later, as in two weeks from now? Two months?' Casey said incredulously. 'I can't live like this. I've got a life…'
'Look, I don't know how long,' Sales said patiently. 'I don't know what to tell you. I'm as frustrated as you are. At least you had the chance to get something done in here.'
Casey followed his eyes to the table where her papers were splayed and said morosely, 'I wish I could say it did me some good.'
Recalled to her duty, she took her cell phone from the briefcase and looked at it for the first time. It was unusual for her not to have gotten any calls.
'You'll have to use my phone,' Sales told her, pointing to the countertop, where an old chocolate brown phone sat on top of the yellow pages. 'Cell phones don't work out here… there's no towers.'
'I was just wondering why I didn't get any calls,' she said, picking up his phone. She dialed the office, looking at her watch. It was just after five, but sometimes Gina stayed late. She hung up on the answering service and dialed her voice mail. Crossing the kitchen with the phone in hand, she sat down with a pen and her yellow legal pad. The dejection of their failed attempt at trapping Lipton left her feeling foolish and slightly guilty for neglecting the clients who were counting on her. With them, at least, she knew just what to do.
Sales took out a bottle of beer from the fridge and sat down at the table to think while Casey patiently listened to and transcribed nearly two dozen messages.
'Bob Bolinger called,' she said, looking up. 'He says he needs to talk.'
She wrote down his cell phone number but continued to listen. There were only two more messages on the machine, and she wanted to get through them before she rang up the detective. The next message was a strangely urgent plea from Gina to call someone called Kurt Lamb, who claimed to be a client but whom Casey had never heard of. When the next message came, she forgot everything that she'd heard before.
'Casey, this is Patti,' came the sound of the young woman's voice over the phone. 'I… I need to know what's going on. It's Professor Lipton. He's… he just called, and he's on his way over. He said you wanted him to come. I… I don't know. I'm sorry. I don't mean to overreact, but I wanted to make sure you really talked to him. Can you call me? He's coming and I don't know what to do…'
'Oh my God!' Casey exclaimed. Instantly she hung up and dialed Patti's home number. After twelve hopeless rings, she began stuffing her papers haphazardly into the briefcase.
'What happened?' Sales asked with concern. He had risen from his seat and set the beer down half empty on the table.
'We've got to go,' she said in a panic. 'We've got to stop him.'
'Stop who?' Sales asked, grasping Casey firmly by the shoulders. 'What are you talking about?'
'Lipton!' she screamed at him. 'It's not me he's going after, it's Patti!'
'Your assistant?' Sales said, hurrying now with her toward the front door.
'Yes,' Casey said, leaping from the porch and sprinting for her Mercedes.
Sales got in beside her and braced himself as she spun up a cloud of dust and stones backing around in the driveway. 'How do you know?' he asked. 'What happened?'
'She left me a message,' Casey told him, her hands on the wheel in a death grip. 'She said Lipton called her-that I told him to-that I'd meet him there. I called her back, but I didn't get an answer.'
Sales didn't say a word. He stared grimly at the road. Casey pointed at her briefcase and instructed him to take out her cell phone.
'Bolinger left me his cell phone number and I wrote it down on that legal pad. Get it and call him.'
'I can't,' Sales said, 'remember? There's no towers.'
'When will we be in range, do you know?' she demanded.
'About five more miles, I think,' he said. 'When we get to the bridge.'
Casey stepped on the gas even harder.
'Easy,' he said. 'It won't do anyone any good if you kill us.'
Casey didn't hear. 'He's going to kill her,' she heard herself saying.
'Maybe not,' he said. 'Maybe we can get there, or the police, maybe Bolinger can get there.'
When they got to the bridge, Sales dialed the detective's number and handed the phone to Casey. They came to the top of a hill and the Mercedes lifted nearly off the ground. Bolinger answered tiredly on the third ring. In a panicked voice, Casey explained the situation. It took several minutes to communicate through the static of the bad connection, but finally Bolinger understood. He said he'd get there as fast as he could.
'I'll get a patrol car there, too. If anyone's close, they may get there sooner than either of us,' the detective said before hanging up.
Casey clapped the phone shut and tossed it over to Sales. A salty drop tickled her upper lip and she realized that tears were streaming down her face. The image of being helpless and abducted herself was fresh in her own mind. While part of her was grateful to have Sales beside her, at the same time another part of her was
