We'll Meet Again

91

As he drove to Greenwich, Philip decided that he should at least give Molly a few minutes’ warning before he arrived on her doorstep. He dialed her house and waited in anticipation for either her or Jenna to answer.

He listened with growing concern as the telephone rang seven, eight, ten times. Either Molly was in such a dead sleep that she couldn’t hear the phone, or she had turned off the ringer.

But she wouldn’t turn it off, Philip decided. Very few people have her number, and she surely wouldn’t want to be out of touch with any one of us at this point.

He remembered his conversation with her that afternoon. Molly had sounded so listless, so depressed then-maybe she is already asleep. No, Jenna is with her, Philip reminded himself as he turned into Molly’s street at the intersection.

But maybe Jenna left early. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard: ten o’clock. It’s not that early, he thought. Maybe she’s finally getting a decent night’s sleep. Should I just turn around and go home? he wondered.

No. Even if he had to rout Molly out of bed to tell her about the Hilmers’ testimony, he was going to do it. Nothing short of a miracle would ease her mind more than that news. It would be worth waking her up for.

As he neared Molly’s house, a squad car with its lights flashing sped past him. Horrified, he watched as it turned into Molly’s driveway.