Remember Me by Mary Higgins Clark Page A

child from another century, evolved gradually. But now she had completed four of them, doing both the text and artwork. One was set in New York, one in London, one in Paris and one in San Francisco. They had become popular immediately.
    Listening to all Adam’s stories about the Cape hadmade her interested in setting the next book here. It would be about a boy in Pilgrim times growing up on the Cape, the Narrow Land as the Indians had called it.
    Like all the other ideas that had eventually ended up as a book, once hatched, it would not go away. The other day they had gone to the library in Chatham and she had borrowed books on the early history of the Cape. Then she’d found some dusty old books in a cabinet in the library at Remember House. So tonight she sat down to read; soon she was happily lost in her research.
    *   *   *
    At eight o’clock the phone rang. “Mrs. Nichols?”
    She did not recognize the voice. “Yes,” she said cautiously.
    â€œMrs. Nichols, I’m Scott Covey. Elaine Atkins gave me your number. Is Mr. Nichols there?”
    Scott Covey! Menley recognized the name. “I’m afraid my husband isn’t here,” she said. “He’ll be back tomorrow. You can reach him by late afternoon.”
    â€œThank you. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”
    â€œNo bother. And I’m so sorry about your wife.”
    â€œIt’s been pretty awful. I’m only praying that your husband can help me. It’s bad enough to have lost Viv, but now the police are acting as though they think it wasn’t an accident.”
    *   *   *
    Adam called a few minutes later, sounding weary. “Kurt Potter’s family is determined to see that Susan goes back to prison. They know she killed him in self-defense, but to admit it also means admitting that they’d ignored the warning signs.”
    Menley could tell he was exhausted. After only three days of vacation he was already back in the office. She did not have the heart to bring up ScottCovey’s request now. When he got back tomorrow, she’d ask him to meet with Covey. Of all people, she understood what it was like to have the police question a tragic accident.
    She assured Adam that she and Hannah were fine, that they both missed him and that she was keeping busy doing research for the new book.
    The talk with Scott Covey and then with Adam had broken her concentration, however, and at nine o’clock she turned out the lights and went upstairs.
    She checked the peacefully sleeping Hannah, then sniffed the air. There was a musty smell in the room. Where was it coming from? she wondered. She opened the window a few inches more. A strong, salty sea breeze quickly swept through the room. That’s better, she thought.
    Sleep did not come easily. The railroad crossing today had brought back vivid memories of the terrible accident. This time she thought about the signal light that day. She was sure she had glanced at it—it was something she did automatically—but the sun was so strong that she hadn’t realized it was flashing. The first indication of what was happening was the vibrations caused by the train rushing toward them. Then she heard the frantic, shrill scream of its whistle.
    Her throat went dry, her lips felt bloodless. But at least this time she did not begin to perspire or tremble. At last she fell into an uneasy sleep.
    At two o’clock she sat bolt upright. The baby was screaming, and the sound of an oncoming train was echoing through the house.

August 5th
16
    A dam Nichols could not overcome the sense that something was wrong. He slept fitfully, and each time he awoke it was with the knowledge that he’d just had a vague, troublesome dream and could not remember what it was.
    At six o’clock, as dawn broke over the East River, he threw back the sheet and got up. He made coffee and brought it out on the terrace, wishing that