yourself together. What else do you have in that box?”
“Nothing. Just the money.”
“Okay, here’s what you do. Pull together your car titles, mortgage documents and deeds, any insurance policies you’ve got at home. Take them down to the bank and I’ll meet you there in an hour. And don’t forget your safety deposit box key.”
Folsom terminated the call and started to dress. “What a dickhead!” he growled. As he was putting on his socks and shoes, he called Sanford Cunningham.
“Hello?”
“Sanford, I need your help. That stupid twerp, Donald Matson, just got an order from his agency to disclose the contents of his safety deposit box at Broad Street Bank when the bank opens tomorrow at nine o’clock.”
“Something in the box that shouldn’t be there?”
“You could say that. But that’s something you don’t need to know. Can we get into the safety deposit box vault tonight?”
“Sure. I’ve got the combination to the room lock and the keys to the vault.”
“It’s not on a timer?”
“No, not like the main vault. If it were, we wouldn’t be able to get in until 7:30 in the morning.”
“Thank God for small favors. I’ll pick you up. Matson is going to meet us at the bank at 11.”
Folsom checked on Wendy, who was lying in a fetal position. He bent over and grabbed a handful of her hair. “Passed out again, huh? I’m sorry I had to break up our little love-making session. I know how much you enjoy them. But I’ll be back in a few hours.”
He walked out of the room laughing.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Wendy had closed her eyes as soon as Gerald returned to her bedroom, realizing from the phone conversation she’d overheard he had to go out. She forced herself not to flinch or moan when he grabbed her hair, and barely took a breath until he left the room. After she heard his car leave the garage and pass under her window, she gathered her strength and sat up, letting her feet rest on the carpeted floor. She took a deep breath, held it, and pushed off the bed, grunting as she stood, her head fuzzy from the sudden movement. Grasping the edge of the bedside table, she steadied herself until the dizziness passed.
Her robe was hanging to one side. She pulled it closed around her and in so doing felt something stiff in the left pocket: A business card. It took her a few seconds to remember where it came from. That man who had been in her bedroom. When was it? Yesterday? Last week? Why had he been here? She couldn’t get her head straight around the memory. The card said the man was an attorney. She palmed it and shuffled to her walk-in closet.
After shucking off the robe and dropping it to the floor, she reached in a drawer for a bra, but decided there was no way she would be able to contort her body enough to put it on. She struggled into a pair of underpants and then put on a sweat shirt and a wrap-around skirt. The thought of putting on heels or lace-up shoes was intimidating. Instead, she selected a pair of sandals, dropped them to the carpeted floor, and slid her feet into them.
She knew Gerald kept a large amount of money in a safe in his bedroom, but she didn’t know the combination. But there was also cash in his sock drawer. She stumbled out of the closet, through the bathroom, to his bedroom’s top dresser drawer. She came up with a money clip filled with $100 bills and stuck it in her skirt pocket, along with the lawyer’s business card. Leaving the upstairs, her heart stopped when she made it to the entry: Gerald’s Mercedes was coming back up the driveway.
“Oh God! Oh God!” Wendy cried. She panicked, indecisive. Was he going to put his car in the garage? That’s where her car was. She knew she needed to move, but she couldn’t decide where to go. Then it hit her that Gerald had just left the house a few minutes ago. He’d probably forgotten something. Maybe his wallet. If she was correct, he wouldn’t go into the garage; he’d come through the front door. She
“Nothing. Just the money.”
“Okay, here’s what you do. Pull together your car titles, mortgage documents and deeds, any insurance policies you’ve got at home. Take them down to the bank and I’ll meet you there in an hour. And don’t forget your safety deposit box key.”
Folsom terminated the call and started to dress. “What a dickhead!” he growled. As he was putting on his socks and shoes, he called Sanford Cunningham.
“Hello?”
“Sanford, I need your help. That stupid twerp, Donald Matson, just got an order from his agency to disclose the contents of his safety deposit box at Broad Street Bank when the bank opens tomorrow at nine o’clock.”
“Something in the box that shouldn’t be there?”
“You could say that. But that’s something you don’t need to know. Can we get into the safety deposit box vault tonight?”
“Sure. I’ve got the combination to the room lock and the keys to the vault.”
“It’s not on a timer?”
“No, not like the main vault. If it were, we wouldn’t be able to get in until 7:30 in the morning.”
“Thank God for small favors. I’ll pick you up. Matson is going to meet us at the bank at 11.”
Folsom checked on Wendy, who was lying in a fetal position. He bent over and grabbed a handful of her hair. “Passed out again, huh? I’m sorry I had to break up our little love-making session. I know how much you enjoy them. But I’ll be back in a few hours.”
He walked out of the room laughing.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Wendy had closed her eyes as soon as Gerald returned to her bedroom, realizing from the phone conversation she’d overheard he had to go out. She forced herself not to flinch or moan when he grabbed her hair, and barely took a breath until he left the room. After she heard his car leave the garage and pass under her window, she gathered her strength and sat up, letting her feet rest on the carpeted floor. She took a deep breath, held it, and pushed off the bed, grunting as she stood, her head fuzzy from the sudden movement. Grasping the edge of the bedside table, she steadied herself until the dizziness passed.
Her robe was hanging to one side. She pulled it closed around her and in so doing felt something stiff in the left pocket: A business card. It took her a few seconds to remember where it came from. That man who had been in her bedroom. When was it? Yesterday? Last week? Why had he been here? She couldn’t get her head straight around the memory. The card said the man was an attorney. She palmed it and shuffled to her walk-in closet.
After shucking off the robe and dropping it to the floor, she reached in a drawer for a bra, but decided there was no way she would be able to contort her body enough to put it on. She struggled into a pair of underpants and then put on a sweat shirt and a wrap-around skirt. The thought of putting on heels or lace-up shoes was intimidating. Instead, she selected a pair of sandals, dropped them to the carpeted floor, and slid her feet into them.
She knew Gerald kept a large amount of money in a safe in his bedroom, but she didn’t know the combination. But there was also cash in his sock drawer. She stumbled out of the closet, through the bathroom, to his bedroom’s top dresser drawer. She came up with a money clip filled with $100 bills and stuck it in her skirt pocket, along with the lawyer’s business card. Leaving the upstairs, her heart stopped when she made it to the entry: Gerald’s Mercedes was coming back up the driveway.
“Oh God! Oh God!” Wendy cried. She panicked, indecisive. Was he going to put his car in the garage? That’s where her car was. She knew she needed to move, but she couldn’t decide where to go. Then it hit her that Gerald had just left the house a few minutes ago. He’d probably forgotten something. Maybe his wallet. If she was correct, he wouldn’t go into the garage; he’d come through the front door. She
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