Live to Tell (Live to Tell #1)(103)

Opening it, Lauren shines the light inside the secret cubby.

There, sure enough, is the Dora pillow. She pulls it out.

A couple of Barbie dolls tumble to the floor.

“Oh, Sadie. Oh, my little girl.”

“Steady there, Mrs. Walsh.” The detective lays a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”

Okay? Is she okay? Her children are missing, their father has been murdered, her friend is clinging to life, and a woman blew her brains out before Lauren’s eyes.

Lauren doesn’t bother to speak. There’s nothing to say.

She sniffles, wipes the stream of tears from her eyes, and again directs the flashlight’s beam into the space behind the closet wall.

This time, she sees it.

Pink fur.



“Congressman Quinn?”

About to step into his limousine after Marin, Garvey turns to see a stranger in a dark suit coat.

The man flashes a badge.

More security. Good. Garvey can use it. The street is filled with press, and cops, and stem cell research supporters, chanting wildly and waving signs of protest.

But this security guard isn’t looking at the crowd; he’s looking at Garvey. And his eyes are cold.

“I need you to come with me, Congressman.”

Garvey stares at him. And in that instant, he knows.

It’s all over.

“What’s going on?” Marin asks from inside the car. “Garvey?”

He can’t bring himself to look back at her as the detective leads him away.



It’s been over an hour since the police back in Glenhaven Park examined the stuffed toy and found a memory stick hidden in the stuffing.

On it was evidence of some sort of scandal involving Congressman Garvey Quinn. The woman who lay dead on Lauren’s kitchen floor was Beverly Madsen, a longtime campaign aide of Quinn’s.

The congressman was questioned and claimed not to know where the children are, but guessed that Madsen might have taken them to a place called Greymeadow. Beverly Madsen once resided in the guesthouse of his family’s long-unused country estate, about twenty miles north of Glenhaven Park.

That’s as much as Lauren was told before she was hustled into a police cruiser that now barrels up the Taconic Parkway, sirens wailing.

She doesn’t really care about the rest of the details surrounding the case, as long as her children are safe.

Please, she prays as the car slows. Gray stone pillars mark a rutted, tree-shaded country lane, and there’s an enormous wrought-iron gate with elaborate grillwork etched with the word “GREYMEADOW.”

Please let them be alive…



Sitting shoulder to shoulder with Lucy in the darkness, Ryan thinks bleakly about all the things he never got to do.

The fishing trip…

A Yankee game…

Xbox with Ian…

A double summersault off the high dive…

A sound reaches his ears.

He frowns, listening.

It’s the distant hum of a helicopter.

“Lucy?”

“Yeah,” she whispers. “I hear it.”

They listen for a long time, and the helicopter fades away.

But now there are voices. And a dog is barking.

Someone is out there.

This is it.

Either Sadie managed to go for help…

Or their kidnapper is back and they’re about to die.

“Lucy! Ryan! Sadie!” a voice calls.

A male voice. Not hers.

“Lucy! Ry—”

“In here!” Ryan bellows, and his sister starts to sob.

He hears scrambling outside, and now the dog is barking excitedly, and there are other voices, and walkietalkies.

“Stand back from the door!” a man calls. “Do you hear me, kids? Get back as far as you can!”

Ryan grabs his sister’s hand and the two of them move to the wall opposite the door—only a few feet away.

There’s a loud, whacking sound. Axe on wood.

Then the door splinters and is gone. Light streams in.

Daylight. So strange, after what felt like endless hours of imprisonment. Ryan could have sworn it would be the middle of the night. Maybe it’s tomorrow.

There are police officers, about a million of them.

“Everyone all right?” the closest one asks, helping Ryan outside.

He blinks against the glare.

“I’m okay,” he hears Lucy say. “You have to call my mother. Please…”

“Where’s the little one?” somebody asks. “Where’s Sadie?”

His eyes accustomed to the light at last, Ryan sees the cops looking at each other and shrugging.

“Isn’t Sadie the one who told you where to find us? We sent her for help.”

Ryan can tell the answer by their expressions, and his heart sinks.



“We got ’em!”

Hearing the message squawk over the police radio, Lauren bolts from the cruiser parked at the foot of the overgrown path into the woods.

“Wait, Mrs. Walsh…” Behind her, the nice young officer hurries to get out of the car.

Lauren has no intention of waiting.

Vines twine around her legs as she runs up the uneven path; twice she falls and picks herself up again, hurtling forward. Her knees rip open against the rocks, her palms, too, are torn and bleeding. She can still feel the agonizing cuts all over her body from the ground glass on her kitchen floor, but the physical pain means nothing. Nothing at all. She can bear anything but the loss of her children.