Carol Higgins Clark Boxed Set - Volume 1: This eBook collection contains Zapped, Cursed, and Wrecked. (2 page)

A
t Larry’s Laughs, a hot, cramped comedy club in Midtown Manhattan, Regan’s best friend, Kit, was sitting at a table close to the small stage with a woman she had met just hours earlier. They were both attending a three-day insurance conference at the Gates Hotel on West Forty-fourth Street. Kit’s crutches, her constant companions since foot surgery two weeks earlier, were on the floor next to her.

“After those dry-as-dust seminars, I could use a few laughs,” Georgina had said to Kit during the cocktail and buffet reception. “It looks like you could, too. One of the bellmen told me there’s a new comedy club not far from here. I’m trying to get a group together to leave this shindig as soon as the head of the conference makes his speech and it’s safe for us to make our escape.” She rolled her eyes and pretended to yawn. “How about it?”

Kit laughed. “If we can get a cab and the place is air-conditioned, I’m game,” she said jovially, thinking it sounded like a good idea. Apparently no one else did. It ended up being just the two of them heading out for a taste of New York City nightlife.

Within minutes, Kit realized that she and Georgina were not on the path to a long and beautiful friendship. Georgina never stopped talking during the short cab ride to the club, swatting Kit’s arm for emphasis every time she made a point. Her electric blue eyes darted around the cab, occasionally fixating on Kit with a disconcerting stare before turning away again. Kit learned that Georgina was single, hated her job, and was trying very hard to quit smoking. Attractive in an offbeat way, she was tall with long, brassy brown hair streaked with wide blond highlights, long bangs, and interesting features. Funky jewelry accessorized her simple, black summer sheath. Her long bronze nails matched her hair.

As they sat waiting for the show to start, a fidgety Georgina downed her margarita and then grabbed her purse off the floor. “I hope you don’t mind, but I really need a smoke. I’ll be right back.”

“Not at all,” Kit began, “but I think they’re about to start the show—”

Georgina hadn’t waited for a response. She was already heading for the door, squeezing her way through the tables that were crammed together.

Kit sighed. When nobody else wanted to join us, I should have just gone up to my room and watched a movie, she thought, suddenly aware that she was exhausted. Her foot started to ache. She longed to be back at the hotel, stretched out on her bed. Oh well, at least tomorrow night I’ll be with Regan and Jack. She hadn’t seen them since Memorial Day weekend when they’d been at Regan’s parents’ beach house in the Hamptons and gone through hundreds of wedding photos, dissecting every moment of Regan and Jack’s big day.

Kit had had a great time at the reception even though she hadn’t met anyone special. The one friend of Jack’s Regan really wanted to introduce her to had called the morning of the wedding to say he couldn’t make it. A girl he’d just started dating had been in a minor car accident and called him from the emergency room. He was on his way there. Turns out the damsel in distress had a couple of bruises and a fat lip that she milked for all it was worth. Now they were engaged. Just my luck, Kit thought, glancing around and checking out the crowd. I don’t think there’s anyone here who wants to fall in love with me while I recover from a bunionectomy. She then eyed the stage. Sitting this close to the action can be dangerous in a comedy club, she thought. But she’d been seated there to keep her sore foot out of harm’s way.

Minutes passed. Where is Georgina? Kit wondered. Finally a spotlight started bouncing around the room, and a voice came over the loudspeaker. “Ladies and gentlemen, please turn off your cell phones, pagers, BlackBerries, and anything else that’s sure to annoy your fellow man. And now, please welcome to Larry’s Laughs, straight from Paramus, New Jersey, Mr. Billy Peebler!”

The audience applauded as a cute twenty-something guy with dark, curly hair ran onto the stage with great enthusiasm. Clad in jeans, sneakers, and a black T-shirt, he had a boyish charm. His brown eyes were twinkling, and he was smiling broadly, but Kit got the feeling he was slightly nervous. Who wouldn’t be? she thought. Coming out onto a bare stage to tell jokes takes a lot of guts.

“Hey, everybody,” Billy called out. “Good to see you.” He pulled the microphone out of the stand, held it in his hands, and paused.

“Tell a joke!” a guy in the back yelled.

“Give me a chance, buddy!” Billy answered with a smile. “Have you ever heard of comic timing?”

“I’ve never heard of you!” the heckler answered loudly.

Billy ignored him. “You know it’s so hot out there, this afternoon I stopped for a nice cold one in my neighborhood pub. I was sitting there minding my own business when a horse wandered in. The bartender says to him, ‘Why the long face?’”

Kit chuckled as did most of the audience. As Billy paused, even more of them laughed.

“You know what the horse said?” Billy finally asked.

“I don’t care!” the heckler yelled.

A now irritated Kit turned in the direction of the heckler and shouted, “Be quiet!”

Billy looked down at her and smiled. “Did my mother send you here tonight?”

Before Kit could answer, the spotlight went out.

“Someone was smart enough to pull the plug!” the heckler yelled in the room now dimly lit by just the small candles on each table. The whir of the air conditioner stopped, groaned, and sputtered to a halt.

“There’s been a blackout!” someone cried from the doorway to the bar area.

“A blackout!”

“Oh no!”

“Let’s get out of here!”

“I have to get home!”

People quickly jumped up, some accidentally knocking their chairs into each other. The darkened room suddenly felt stifling. Within seconds there was near pandemonium as waiters tried to collect money for the drinks and patrons were crowding the exit.

I guess it’s a good thing I sat up front, Kit thought. My foot definitely would have been trampled if I were in the middle of this bedlam. I’ll just wait here for a few minutes. With any luck Georgina will be outside and we’ll manage to find a cab.

“Are you okay?”

Kit turned. Billy Peebler was standing next to her. “Oh hello…,” she said.

He smiled at her. “Hello, yourself. Thanks for speaking up for me.”

“That guy was a jerk.”

“I know. But in this business you have to expect it.”

“I can’t believe a blackout hit when you were onstage.”

“I’m thrilled. I think I was about to bomb. I could feel it in my bones.”

Kit smiled. “No you weren’t. Your first joke was funny.”

“It’s one of the oldest jokes in the book, but it’s just silly enough to get that first laugh. What are you doing here by yourself?”

“The person I came with went out for a smoke…”

“Now that sounds like the beginning of a joke.”

Kit smiled and made a face. “I wish it were.”

They spoke for a few minutes while the room cleared. When everyone was out, it had a lonely, abandoned feeling. Only a few candles were still flickering.

“Let’s see if we can find your friend,” Billy said. He quickly pushed the overturned chairs out of the way, then carefully escorted Kit out to the sidewalk, his arm around her shoulder. The streets were dark, horns were honking in the distance, there was a sense of excitement in the air. But no sign of Georgina.

“I can’t believe it!” Kit said, shaking her head. “I’m hobbling on crutches, and she disappears. And she’s the one who invited me here tonight.”

The hostess who had seated Kit and Georgina was standing by the doorway. “Are you looking for the girl you came in with?”

“Yes.”

“I saw her out here smoking. Some tall, cute guy with blond hair bummed a cigarette off of her. A few minutes later they got in a cab. I thought to myself—‘That was fast!’”

“What?” Kit asked with astonishment. “She actually left me here like this? That’s swell.” Kit looked at Billy and smiled. “I can tell you one thing. If I have anything to do with it, her name is going to be mud in the insurance industry. Come to think of it, I don’t even know her last name. I don’t even have her cell phone number to call. Wait until I run into her tomorrow…”

“I’ll get you home,” Billy said. “Where do you live?”

“Hartford.”

“Oh…”

“‘Oh’ is right. I’m staying on the thirty-eighth floor of the Gates Hotel, so that’s not going to work, either. I don’t think I have the energy to hop up that many flights on one foot. My best friend lives downtown in Tribeca. I’ll give her a call and see if she’s home. She has a fourth-floor loft that I think I can manage. I just hope she’s there…”

J
ack was over at One Police Plaza within minutes of leaving Regan. One of the reasons he’d bought an apartment in Tribeca was so he’d be close to the office. His wasn’t a nine to five existence—he could be called in at any time, day or night, when a case was breaking. Jack didn’t mind; he loved his work. After graduating from Boston College, he’d decided to pursue a career in law enforcement. He’d risen through the ranks of the New York Police Department from patrolman to captain and a few years later he became the head of the Major Case Squad. His goal was to one day be police commissioner. Now that he’d found Regan, Jack felt his whole life had fallen into place.

People remarked on what a handsome couple they made. Thirty-four-year-old Jack was six-feet-two-inches tall with broad shoulders, sandy hair, and even features. Thirty-one-year-old Regan was five foot seven and one of the Black Irish. She had dark hair, blue eyes, and a fair complexion. They looked like they were made for each other.

“I wish I’d met you years ago,” he often told her.

“Me, too, Jack. Believe me! But now we really appreciate each other,” she’d answer with a smile and a raised eyebrow.

Things were so good, it sometimes worried him. But as Regan always said, worrying was part of being Irish. He smiled at the memory of her playful teasing, parked his car, and got out. Ah, life is grand, he thought, even if it feels like 110 degrees in this city tonight.

He hurried into the building, greeted the guard, and took the elevator up to his office. Ducking into a hallway bathroom, he washed his hands and splashed cool water on his face. This doesn’t feel as refreshing as the water of Cape Cod Bay, he thought. It was hard to believe he and Regan had been taking a cool dip at the beach behind his parents’ house just this morning. After the long trip home, that refreshing swim seemed like ages ago.

Down the hall, two of his detectives were talking animatedly on their phones in the outer room of the Major Case Squad. As soon as Jack walked through the door, he could sense that something big was going on. Joe Azzolino looked up, covered the phone with his hand, and called out, “You’re not supposed to be here. I guess you’re psychic.”

“What are you talking about?” Jack asked.

Joe looked surprised. “You haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?” Jack asked, trying not to sound impatient.

“New York City is in a blackout. So is New Jersey and Connecticut and parts of the Midwest.”

“As of when?”

“Three or four minutes ago.”

Because One Police Plaza had its own generator, it wouldn’t be immediately apparent to everyone in the building.

“Do we know what caused it?” Jack asked quickly.

“There’s a thunderstorm in the Midwest. A lightning strike in Ohio knocked out their grids and started a cascading failure. Which is good news. Con Ed just put out the word that it’s not sabotage or terrorism.”

“Thank God,” Jack said quietly. He exhaled hard and hurried into his office. So much for a relaxing night on the roof deck eating Chinese food, he thought as he quickly dialed Regan on their home phone. He let it ring and ring but there was no answer. With the power out, the answering machine didn’t work. His heart skipped a beat as the empty sound of the ringing phone filled his ear. He hung up and dialed Regan’s cell phone. That rang until her voice mail picked up. “Regan, it’s me. Where are you?” he asked uneasily. “Give me a call.” He hung up the phone. By now she should have gotten the flashlight out of the drawer in the kitchen, he thought. If she left the apartment, she would have taken her cell phone. He tried the home number again, letting it ring a dozen times. Nothing.

Quickly he strode back into the outer room. “I just dropped Regan off at the apartment and she’s not answering the phone—I’ll be right back—you know what to do—I have my cell phone.”

He was gone.

Standing on the top step in the pitch darkness, Regan’s heart was beating fast. What happened? she wondered. Is this a blackout? Quickly she debated whether to navigate her way through the debris downstairs and look for a flashlight or go out on the roof and hope the candle they left on the table last week would still be there. She knew that one of the construction guys went out on the roof to smoke. She had seen a cigarette lighter on the table…and outside there should be at least some light from the sky.

She opted for the great outdoors. Regan turned the handle, pushed the creaky metal door outward, and carefully stepped down onto the terrace. It was immediately apparent that New York City was in the dark. She looked west and could tell that New Jersey had also been affected. The high-rises overlooking the Hudson River had disappeared into the vast blackness.

Her eyes hungrily absorbing whatever light there was, Regan leaned down and felt around on the ground for the piece of wood they used to keep the door propped open. It was right at her feet. Curling her fingers around the temporary doorstop, she wedged it into the two-inch space between the metal frame and the cement roof. I can’t wait to replace this door, she thought, and put in a good alarm system. A little fake grass wouldn’t hurt, either.

She stood up straight in the dark. Everything was eerily silent. She and Jack lived in a quiet neighborhood, but now it felt like a ghost town. Carefully, Regan walked over to the rickety table where they’d planned to dine this evening. The candle in the red jar with the white netting was where they left it. Score one, she thought as she picked it up.

Behind her the creaky metal door snapped shut. Regan spun around. She ran over and tried to open it but it was locked. The wedge was nowhere on the ground. This door was closed deliberately, she thought. Someone is in the apartment. They must have made the noise I heard.

Regan knew if she started yelling she’d risk the intruder coming back to shut her up, and she had nothing to use as a weapon except the candle. Let them take what they want, she thought. Her heart was pounding as she pushed herself back against the wall behind the door, ready to spring, in case the night visitor decided to reappear.

Jack was back in his car and racing through the darkened streets as fast as he felt was safe. The traffic lights were out and already there were citizens at the intersections directing traffic. He kept trying to reach Regan, but to no avail. He called their neighbor who lived below them, but she didn’t answer either.

This doesn’t make sense, he thought. Regan would have called me by now if she were okay.

When he reached their building, he grabbed the flashlight he kept in the glove compartment and jumped out of the car. Another neighbor was coming out the door.

“Jack!” she said. “I was just walking down the stairs in the dark. A guy came running from behind and almost knocked me over. I’m sure he doesn’t live here—”

Jack sailed past her. He raced up the four flights of stairs to their apartment, taking the steps two at a time. He unlocked the door and hurried inside.

“Regan!” he called frantically, pointing the flashlight around the room. “Regan!”

No answer. He ran through the rooms looking for her. In their new loft, construction debris was all over the floor.

“Regan!” he called, kicking a piece of plywood out of his way. He shone the flashlight around the room, then raced up the steps to the roof. “Regan!” he called as he pushed the door open.

Behind the door Regan dropped the candle that she had poised over her head, ready to strike, and flew into his arms. “Jack!”

“What am I going to do with you?” he asked, his voice husky, as he held her tight.

“We had an unexpected guest.”

“I heard.”

After a moment, Regan looked up at him and smiled. “What, no Chinese food?”