Live to Tell (Live to Tell #1)(85)

Downstairs, Ryan finds Chauncey perched expectantly beside the front door.

“What’s the matter, boy, you need to be walked?” Ryan pats the dog’s head and is rewarded with a wagging tail.

Mom sticks her head in from the kitchen. She’s wearing makeup and earrings, and her hair is pulled back in a barrette. She looks pretty. Much too nice for this time of day.

“Morning, Ry. John took Chauncey out earlier, but if you want to take him out to play for a while…”

“No, thanks.”

His mother looks disappointed. “You always loved to romp around with Chauncey. Are you too old for that now?”

“Nah, I’ve just got some other stuff to do.”

“What kind of stuff?”

He shrugs.

“Well, I need you to stay here with Sadie today while I go out and take care of some things.”

“What things?”

“You know…errands.” Mom bends over to finger-comb the fringe on the edge of the rug. Ryan is surprised to see that she’s wearing a skirt and blouse, and sandals with heels.

“Geez, Mom, why didn’t you tell me yesterday that you needed me to babysit?”

“Because I didn’t know I had to go someplace until late last night.”

“Well, where do you have to go?”

“Does it matter?”

Seeing the dangerous gleam in her eye, Ryan wonders what’s going on. He nibbles a hangnail from his thumb.

Maybe Mom’s going on a date with that guy she was talking to at the pool yesterday.

He considers asking her about it. Then he decides he’d rather not know.

“What do I get?” he asks instead.

“What do you mean?”

“For watching Sadie. If I do it, will I get paid?”

“Yes. Fine. You’ll get paid.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“I have no idea.”

“So you’re going somewhere, but you won’t tell me where, and you don’t know when you’ll be back? You would never let me get away with that.”

“That’s because you’re the kid. I’m the mother.”

Yeah, Ryan decides, she’s up to something for sure. And if it has to do with some guy, he really, really doesn’t want to know. He scowls.

Mom gives him a sharp look. “What’s the problem, Ryan?”

“There’s no problem.”

“Are you sure? Because Sadie has been having a hard time lately, and she could use some support. It won’t kill you to entertain her while I go out.”

“Entertain her? Like what, do a tap dance for her?”

Mom cracks a smile.

Ryan, in the mood to be difficult, does not. “Why can’t Lucy watch her? Why do I have to do it?”

“You both have to watch her.” Mom is no longer smiling. “And I don’t want to hear another word about it. Got it?”

Ryan rolls his eyes.

“Got it?” Mom repeats.

“Got it,” Ryan grumbles, hating her—and hating himself even more.



From the shelter of a vine-covered trellis in a neighboring yard, the Walsh home is in full view. Under surveillance since sunup, the Victorian appears as deserted as the conveniently vacated house beside the trellis, but it isn’t. They’re in there—all four of them. Lauren, Lucy, Ryan, and Sadie.

Only Chauncey left the house this morning, on his daily outing. He pranced along jauntily on his leash—no visible sign of any lingering effects from Monday’s sedative.

The rest of the family has remained at home, going about their morning business—or perhaps still asleep, as the drawn shades on the girls’ bedrooms would seem to indicate.

Sometime in the next fifteen minutes or so, Lauren Walsh is going to get into her car and drive away, and then…

Such a shame.

But Garvey is out of patience. It’s time to make a move. Today.

Enjoy those sweet dreams, Lucy and Sadie.

They might be your last.



Marin moodily dumps the remains of her morning coffee into the sink, wishing she had time to drink it.

“Look on the bright side,” Caroline tells her, perched at the breakfast bar eating mango and papaya from a gourmet deli container. “At least it’s raining.”

“That’s the bright side?”

“You wouldn’t want to go to some stupid campaign thing on a gorgeous day, would you?”

Marin offers her a tight smile, rinses her mug, and puts it into the dishwasher.

The truth is, she wouldn’t mind never having to go to another stupid campaign thing again.

But that’s not going to happen. The next best thing would be skipping today’s required appearance with Garvey at a particularly troubling event.

Marin rubs her temples.

“Another headache?” her daughter asks.

“Yes.”

“Are you sick, do you think?”

“No, it’s just stress. Why?”

Caroline shrugs.

“What’s up, Car?”

“Nothing.”

“Something.”

Caroline looks at her for a long moment, as if weighing something. Then she shrugs. “Okay. Whatever. I just—I saw those forms you filled out for me to give to the school nurse next week.”