Daddy's Gone a Hunting by Mary Higgins Clark Page A

Lawrence thought.
    Veronica’s expression changed. “Lawrence, you know how hard it is for us not to see Jamie’s killer arrested before the same thing happens to another girl.”
    “And it is also hard because I haven’t yet sat in a courtroom to see that monster sentenced to rot in prison for the rest of his life,” Lawrence snapped.
    “It’s going to happen. The psychic said that very, very soon somethingbelonging to Jamie will be found and it will help lead the police to her murderer.”
    Lawrence stared at his wife. Lee certainly didn’t tell the psychic to say that, he thought. Good God, was the psychic for real? Is it possible that this is going to happen?
    A few days later, he received his answer.

30

    A t four thirty Friday afternoon Jessica picked up Hannah for the drive out the island to the funeral home in Little Neck where the wake for Gus Schmidt was being held. Hannah had changed into a black and white tweed suit, one of her own designs. As Hannah got into the car, Jessie said approvingly, “You always look so put-together. I, on the other hand, manage to give the appearance of someone who closed her eyes, reached into the closet, and grabbed for the nearest hanger.”
    “Not true,” Hannah said matter-of-factly, “and in fact it’s insulting. I helped you pick out that suit in Saks and it looks great on you.” She tossed her rain cape over to the backseat, where it landed next to Jessie’s trench coat.
    “My mistake. I forgot that you helped me pick it out,” Jessie said ruefully as she stepped on the gas and skillfully maneuvered her Volkswagen between two double-parked cars.
    “Anyway, you were just making conversation, which is very nice of you,” Hannah said, “but it isn’t necessary. I admit I’m nervous about seeing Lottie Schmidt. But it has to be done.”
    “You know and she knows that there has to be a reasonable explanation for Kate and Gus to have gone to the complex the other night. As soon as Kate comes out of the coma, we’ll find out what it is,” Jessie said firmly.
    Hannah did not answer.
    Jessie waited until she had turned the car onto Thirty-fourth Street, heading to the Queens-Midtown Tunnel, before she said, “Hannah, have you learned something that you’re not telling me?” Then she added, “I am Kate’s lawyer. It is absolutely critical that you tell me what you know so that I can properly represent her. Do you understand how important this is? And don’t worry, should Kate be charged with a crime, I don’t have to tell the DA anything I find out on my own.”
    As Hannah listened, she felt almost paralyzed with fear. Kate was still in critical condition. At any moment she could die or, if she recovered, she could be brain damaged. If she did recover and was found guilty of blowing up the complex and causing Gus’s death, she could end up spending most of the rest of her life in prison. It was a scenario that, like a drum banging mournfully, was always repeating itself in her mind.
    “Okay, Jessie, I understand.” Kate did not volunteer anything more.
    Jessie gave her a worried glance but decided not to press her further. They drove the rest of the way in awkward silence and arrived at the funeral home in forty-five minutes.
    As Jessie pulled into the driveway to the parking lot, she said, “Look who’s going inside!” Hannah turned her head quickly and was dismayed to see the two fire marshals opening the door of the funeral home. “Do you think we should wait a while in the car and try to avoid them?”
    Jessie shook her head. “My guess is that they’ll stay around and strike up a conversation with any of the people who worked with Gus who may be here. Let’s go.”
    In the entrance room, a solemn-faced attendant directed them to the room where Gus Schmidt’s casket had been placed. Hannah was surprised to see the room already filled. A long line had formed togreet Lottie and Gretchen, who were standing by the closed, flower-covered