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“So he’s learned to disguise his identity,” Jerry said slowly. “Do you have any doubt that it’s Harrington?”
“Not in my own mind, but I also have no proof, so the police can’t arrest him.”
Jerry considered it silently, steepling his fingers and staring down at his hands, deep in thought. “I want you to keep me informed,” he said, then stood. “You know I’m about to go on vacation, but I can switch around the dates if there’s a chance you’re going to need a leave of absence.”
“I don’t foresee that. He’s no threat to me here with all the people around and Harvey on guard.”
“All right, then. Let’s get back to work and see if we can process everyone by closing.”
IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON AND Lori was working at her window when she finally decided to take the next step on her own. If she confronted Harrington, put it on the line by telling him that she knew he was the one stalking her, maybe he’d stop playing these crazy games—or at least back off for a while.
Fifteen minutes later, Lori closed her window. As her break started, she found the telephone number for Harrington Designs in the phone book, reached for her desk phone, then stopped. Calling him from here was a bad idea. Harrington’s caller ID would show the origin and he might use it to get her into trouble. She didn’t want to give up her cell phone number, either.
Lori walked to the lobby. Mounted on the wall was one of the few landline public phones in the area.
She inserted two quarters and dialed the number, trying to figure out the best way to say what she needed.
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