Live to Tell (Live to Tell #1)(73)

What’s so weird about that?

Other than the fact that it’s completely selfish and callous…

She looks around to see that Sadie is out of the pool and wrapped in a towel, little stinker.

“Lucy, come here for a minute,” she calls.

Lucy hurries over. “Did you see it?”

“I did. Why is it weird?”

“Because her name is Beth. Not Elizabeth.”

“Beth is a nickname for Elizabeth.”

“No, I know that, but… I mean, Dad never calls her that. Ever.”

“Oh, well…” Uncomfortable, she shrugs. “Maybe he does sometimes, and you’ve just never heard him.”

“No. I’m worried that maybe…you know.”

“What?”

Lucy takes a deep breath. “I’m worried that maybe Dad’s trying to tell us something—you know, like maybe he’s trapped somewhere or someone’s holding him hostage and he’s sending a signal.”

“Oh, Lucy…are you still reading that Robert Ludlum spy book?”

“That’s not why, Mom. I seriously feel like something’s wrong with Dad.”

Lauren looks at her, then, again, at the phone.

Just yesterday, she herself was consumed with the same feeling. But then they heard from Nick, and she felt better.

Now she wonders uneasily why he’s so cagey, avoiding the kids, and his job…

Maybe something really is wrong. Maybe he’s in some kind of trouble.

“Mom? You’re worried about him, too, aren’t you?”

Slowly, Lauren nods.

“What are we going to do?” All at once, Lucy sounds—and looks—like a frightened little girl.

This, Lauren tells herself, is why you can’t admit to her that Nick might be in some kind of trouble. You’re the mother. You have to be the optimistic one.

Lauren hugs her. “Oh, sweetie, try not to worry. Daddy’s a grown man. He knows how to take care of himself. He’ll be okay.”

Lucy nods bleakly, clearly not buying that any more than Lauren does.



Elsa’s instinct was—is—to trust Mike, just as she always has, and yet…

She could have sworn she’d seen something in his eyes there, just for a moment.

But she’s probably mistaken.

That’s why you need to forget it and move on.

“Let’s go over what we know,” Mike suggests, and opens the folder he brought with him.

There never were many details. One minute, Jeremy was there. The next, he was gone.

Someone must have taken him, unless…

“Maybe he ran away,” Brett suggested on that awful long-ago day when, hysterical, Elsa reached him at work.

“How could he run away? He’s seven.”

“How many times has he told us he was going to leave, Elsa?”

“He didn’t mean it.”

“How do you know? He says a lot of things he claims he didn’t mean to say. He does a lot of things he says he didn’t mean to do.”

Brett was jaded. After what they’d been through with Jeremy, who could blame him?

I could. I did.

They’ve come a long way in fourteen years.

But we still have a long, long way to go.

Before they leave the restaurant, Elsa asks Mike if he remembers what he said to her the first time they’d met—back when Jeremy was newly missing and she hired Mike because she was getting nowhere with the authorities.

“What did I say?”

“You said that in cases like these, there’s always someone who saw something, or knows something. You told me the trick is to figure out who that person is, and find him.”

Mike nods.

“Have you given up on that? Or do you still think someone is out there?”

“I’ll never give up. On anything. I’m always searching for new leads, Elsa.”

She believes that.

She tells him to keep trying, and he promises that he will.

“Thank you, Mike. Because I need…”

Once, a long time ago, she would have ended that sentence…my son back.

Now, older and wiser and realistic, she seeks something else.

“Closure, Mike. I need closure.”



No traffic to speak of; wooded parks; tree-lined, brick-paved streets; old-fashioned gingerbread houses instead of skyscraper apartments…

I bet I could get used to this lifestyle.

Here in Glenhaven Park, anyway. Unlike most cookie-cutter suburbs, the town has its share of charm. So does the Walsh family.

What a shame to have discovered both under such unfortunate circumstances.

What a shame it would be if something were to happen to Lauren Walsh, or worse yet, to one of her precious children.

Or to all of them—Lauren included. An entire family, wiped out due to nothing more than incredible bad luck.

Dammit. Where is that pink stuffed animal?

A search of the house turned up nothing. And it was a thorough search, once the pooch had enjoyed his special treat and drifted into a dead sleep.

Dead, indeed.

Some watchdog. Maybe the dosage was a little too high. But a sedative overdose beats killing the kids’ pet, right?

No unnecessary canine casualties. Garvey will be pleased.