“You have a point, Melanie. But if she left this guy unconscious somewhere in New York City there’s always the danger something more serious will happen to him. And the blackout complicates things. We want to catch up with her as soon as possible, no matter what.”

“Okay, Regan,” Melanie said. “I’ll sit in the lobby all night if I have to.”

“I’ll join you,” Dexter said.

“Great,” Regan answered. “Now let’s find hotel security. Do you happen to know what floor Georgina’s room is on?”

“The forty-second!” Melanie chirped. “Wouldn’t you know she managed to snag the best room of all of us?”

17

B y the time Rod dropped off Wally at his house in Edgewater, New Jersey, a couple of miles south of the George Washington Bridge, Wally was a wreck. The always cranky Frank had insisted on being dropped off first. Already plagued with guilt, Wally didn’t argue. His cell phone was on silent mode but he could see that Arthur had called him twenty-two times. He’s not calling with good news, Wally thought. Only people with bad news and stalkers call this often.

Rod’s parting words as Wally jumped out of the van left no doubt in Wally’s mind about the tone of Arthur’s messages.

“Wally, I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning to go back to Mrs. Spreckles’s house. Good thing she has a generator.” Rod laughed. “Good thing for the blackout. Regan Reilly was expecting us in the morning, and I was going to have to make up some excuse. Pray the blackout lasts till at least noontime tomorrow.”

“We were supposed to go back to the Reillys’ tomorrow?” Wally asked in a faint voice. “I thought we weren’t due back until Wednesday when they were home from vacation.”

“No big deal. She’ll get over it. The job with Mrs. Spreckles was too good to resist.” Rod tooted the horn and drove off.

Wally stood in his darkened driveway on his darkened street unable to move a muscle. His head was spinning. He forced himself to walk over to his front stoop and sit. He could hear the sounds of neighbors down the street laughing and talking. He could smell food cooking on an outdoor grill. It all felt surreal. He knew he had to check those messages. Steeling himself, he pulled out his cell phone. There was one screaming message after another from mild-mannered, placid Arthur. At least I was smart enough not to listen to these in Rod’s car, Wally congratulated himself.

“She walked in when I was there! I locked her out on the roof! Why did you get me involved in your contractor’s fantasy? Why?…”

As Wally was deleting the thirteenth message, a familiar car came roaring down the block. Uh-oh, Wally thought, as he jumped up and fumbled for the keys to his house.

Arthur’s car turned and came to a screeching halt in Wally’s driveway. He jumped out and came running toward him. “You idiot!”

“Come inside,” Wally urged in a shaky voice. “We don’t want to attract the attention of the neighbors—”