We'll Meet Again by Mary Higgins Clark

been simply a dream sequence. Dream? No-
nightmare!
    She had felt so totally one with him; “We’re joined at the hip” had been her favorite expression in those days. Had she been deluding herself?
    I sounded smug and self-satisfied back then, Molly thought, and perhaps I was. Obviously I was stupid as well. She sat up, fully awake now. I’ve got to know, she thought. How long did that affair with the nurse go on? How long was my life with Gary a lie?
    Annamarie Scalli was the only person who could give her the answers she needed.
    At nine she phoned Fran Simmons’s office and left Dr. Daniels’s name. At ten she phoned Philip Matthews. She had only been in his office a few times, but she could visualize it clearly. He had a view of the Statue of Liberty from his World Trade Center office. When she had been there, listening to him plan her defense, it had seemed incongruous to her-clients in danger of going to prison, observing the symbol of liberty.
    Molly remembered telling Philip that, and he’d said that he considered the view of the statue to be a harbinger: when he took on a client, his goal was liberty for them.
    Philip might very well have Annamarie Scalli’s last address because she’d been scheduled to testify at the trial, Molly reasoned. At least it would be a place for her to start.
     
    Philip Matthews had been debating whether or not to phone Molly, so when his secretary announced her call, he quickly reached for the receiver. From the moment she walked out of prison she had consumed his thoughts. It had not helped that two nights ago he’d been at a dinner party where the entertainment was to have your fortune told. As a guest there was no way he could avoid going along with the games, even though he lumped all fortune-telling-palmistry, astrology, tarot cards, Ouija boards-in the same category: hocus-pocus.
    But the fortune-teller actually had made him uneasy. She had studied the cards he selected, frowned, reshuffled, and had him pick others, then flatly said, “Someone close to you, a woman I think, is in grave danger. Do you know who that could be?”
    Philip tried to tell himself the woman was referring to a client who was charged with vehicular homicide and would undoubtedly serve some time, but every instinct in his bones told him that the fortune-teller was talking about Molly.
    Now, Molly confirmed his fears that she had no intention of letting her parents come back to Greenwich to stay with her.
    “Not yet, anyway,” she said firmly. “Philip, I want to find Annamarie Scalli. Do you have her last address?”
    “Molly, let all this go. Please. It’s over. You need to get on with your life.”
    “That’s what I’m trying to do. And that’s why I’ve got to talk to her.”
    Philip sighed. “Her last known address was the apartment she lived in at the time of Gary ’s death. I have no idea where she is now.”
    He could tell that she was about to hang up, and he was anxious to keep her on the phone. “Molly, I’m coming up. If you don’t agree to go out to dinner with me, I’ll just stand there and knock on your door until the neighbors get annoyed.”
    Somehow Molly could visualize him doing just that. The same intensity that she had seen at her trial when he was cross-examining witnesses was in his voice now. He was obviously a determined man, used to getting his way. Still, she did not want to see him yet. “Philip, I need a little more time to myself. Look, it’s Thursday. Why don’t you come to dinner on Saturday? I don’t want to go out. I’ll cook something.”
    After a moment he accepted her invitation, deciding to be satisfied with that for now.

19
    Edna Barry was in the process of basting a chicken. It was one of Wally’s favorite dinners, especially when she made her own stuffing. The truth was she used prepared stuffing mix, but the secret was to add sautéed onions and celery and extra poultry seasoning.
    The inviting fragrance filled the house, and the act