Live to Tell (Live to Tell #1)(102)

But if it doesn’t…

What choice do you have?

“I can’t give it to you, Jessica. I wish I could…but I can’t.”

“You mean you won’t and you’re a fool.”

“No, I mean I can’t…because I already gave it to the police.”

Jessica doesn’t utter a word, but she pales.

Now who’s the fool?

It’s working. Lauren can sense the wheels turning.

“Come on,” she says, “did you think I was stupid enough not to realize what I had in my possession?”

“But how…?”

Careful, Lauren. Don’t let on. Careful what you say.

“Seriously…who’s going to kill anyone over a plain old stuffed animal? I knew there was something more to it. I figured it out, and I turned it over to the police. They know.”

It’s working. She can see the stark fear in those odd yellow eyes.

“They know everything, Jessica. Right now, they’re surrounding the house. They can hear us. Any second now, they’re going to storm in here and arrest you.”

“Nooooooo!” Jessica lunges for her, grabs for the gun.

They tumble to the floor, rolling over broken glass.

Lauren struggles to hang on to the weapon, but the woman wrestles it away. She heaves herself to her feet and stands over Lauren, breathing hard.

And Lauren watches in horror as she takes aim and pulls the trigger.



A splinter rips into Sadie’s hand as she pulls herself through the narrow crack created by the loose board, and she cries out in pain.

“What happened?”

“Are you all right?”

Hearing her brother and sister calling to her from the other side of the wall, Sadie longs to go back to them. But she can’t. Not now.

“I’m okay,” she tells them, and gets to her feet.

She looks around. She’s standing in front of a small wooden storage shed, and it appears to be entirely surrounded by trees and brush.

“What do you see, Sades?” Ryan asks.

“The woods. That’s it. We’re in the middle of the woods.”

“Is there a road or something?”

“No,” she tells Lucy. Then—“Wait, maybe.”

Not a road…a path. And a faint one at that, overgrown with vines and grass. It disappears into the shadows among the trees.

But it looks like the only way out. Sadie has no choice but to take it.



Shaken, Lauren greets the police officers at the door. They’d arrived almost immediately; she had dialed 911 moments after Jessica put the gun into her mouth and killed herself just minutes ago.

“Ma’am, are you all right? We have a report of—”

“She’s in there!” Lauren points toward the kitchen, fighting to keep the hysteria out of her voice. “I don’t know who she is. She took my children. And—oh my God, Sam. There’s a body out in my backyard. Please…”

With dizzying speed, the scene transforms. Suddenly, there are uniforms swarming everywhere, squawking radios, yellow tape. Through it all, Lauren struggles to remain coherent.

An ambulance wails up. She learns that Sam was indeed shot, but he’s clinging to life.

“Is he going to make it?” Lauren asks in dread.

“Hard to tell. We need to get him stabilized.”

A detective wants a statement, searching for a motive.

“Did she ask for ransom?”

“No…a toy. A pink stuffed dog that belonged to my daughter,” she tells him, dazed. “My ex-husband mistakenly picked it up from the lost and found in Grand Central, and—”

Her throat closes as she remembers. Nick. Beth.

“She killed them, too. Oh God, my children…please, you have to find my children.”

“Ma’am, we’ll do everything we can. Do you have any idea where this toy is?”

“Yes.” Her head snaps up. “I think I know.”

She’s already on her feet, heading for the stairs.



Having followed the path until it came to an end at a narrow, tree-lined dirt lane, Sadie isn’t sure where to turn.

Either way, the road winds its way into deep, dark woods.

In one direction are only muddy ruts.

In the other, fresh tire marks.

The crazy lady must have driven away in that direction. If Sadie follows the tire marks, they’ll lead right to her.

Sadie shudders.

I never want to see her again.

Mind made up, she turns in the opposite direction.



Trailed by the detective and a uniformed officer, Lauren makes her way to Sadie’s room.

Sure enough, the shelves, bed, tabletop, and dresser are far less cluttered than usual. There’s no sign of the Dora pillow, the Barbie dolls…or the dog.

Lauren walks over to the closet and opens the door.

Her heart is pounding.

“Do you have a flashlight?” she asks the men, and one is quickly produced for her.

She crouches and shines the beam along the wall at the back of the closet, beyond the hanging clothes. Her fingertips find the hidden latch on what looks like a panel of molding.

It’s actually a door, built into the house more than a century ago.