Live to Tell (Live to Tell #1)(93)

Sadie gasps. “No! Please don’t shoot her!”

“You know I’m not afraid to use this gun.”

They know. Sadie shudders. This is scarier than the Wicked Witch of the West, by far.

“Stay put.” The car door slams shut.

She feels a hand groping for hers. It’s Ryan. His grasp makes her feel a little better. But not entirely.

“Are we going to die?”

Ryan doesn’t answer right away, and when he says no, she doesn’t believe him.

“I’m afraid.”

“So am I. You’ve got to tell, Sadie. I know you know where that stuffed animal is.”

Sadie bites her lip. “I can’t tell.”

“Don’t you get it?” her brother explodes, and jerks his hand away from hers. “This is life or death.”

She gets it. She does.

But there has to be some other way.



The children are gone.

Lauren had known they would be.

Still, somehow, it’s shocking to step over the threshold into the empty house. Sobbing, she calls out for them. Chauncey is there, barking wildly, following her from room to room in a futile search.

From the first floor to the second, everything is in its place; the entire house just as Lauren left it. No sign of a break-in, no sign of a struggle.

In the doorway to Sadie’s room, Lauren runs her fingertips over the waxy crayon lettering she herself had done just last night.

“Keep Out.”

Oh, Sadie. You were so afraid. And I didn’t believe you. No one did.

Someone really was here before, and came back today.

Was the intruder someone the kids willingly let into the house?

Again, she remembers the caller’s effort to disguise his—or her—voice.

Again, she thinks of Sam.

What if…?

No. He was going to help her.

But he hasn’t called back.

How well does she know him, really?

Not at all.

He came out of nowhere. Single. Handsome. Interested in her.

If something seems too good to be true, it probably is.

“Oh my God.”

Lauren sinks onto the bed in Sadie’s room as the terrible truth washes over her.



Sadie is the last to be taken from the car.

It was scary to wait alone after Ryan was dragged away. But it’s even scarier to be blindly led to some unknown fate.

“Careful. Don’t fall.”

She’s on some kind of rocky path that winds through some high, wet grass that feels slimy against her bare legs. Birds are singing all around her. If only they could fly away for help. But they don’t know that she’s in danger.

“This is it.” The firm hands on Sadie’s shoulders jerk her to a stop. She hears a creaking sound: a door being opened.

“Step up.”

Sadie fumbles around with her sneaker.

“No, here.”

A hand grasps her leg and places her foot, then gives her a little nudge forward, up, and in. A door closes behind her and she’s no longer outside. There’s a musty smell, like the basement back home.

“Sadie?”

“Ryan!” Relieved to hear his voice, she asks, “Is Lucy—?”

“I’m here, sweetie.”

“So am I, sweetie,” a mocking voice announces, and Sadie shudders.

She can feel her blindfold being untied.

She blinks as it’s lifted away. There’s nothing to see but a tiny room of some sort, with wooden plank walls and no windows. The only light is from a flashlight, and it beams into Sadie’s face, blinding her.

“Okay. Here we are, all cozy.”

“I’m not cozy!” Sadie protests. “I want to go home!”

“Then I’m going to ask you one more time. Where is it?”

Sadie chews her lower lip. If she tells, she’ll lose the one thing her father gave her. Well, maybe he gave her other stuff, but she doesn’t remember it. Not like this.

The funny thing is, she hated the dog when Daddy brought it to her. But that was mostly because it wasn’t Fred.

She sort of got used to Fred being gone. And then she sort of got used to the pink dog in her room. But she didn’t even know it until she tried to give it away.

“I’m waiting for an answer, Sadie.”

She makes up her mind. “The tag sale. I put it into the box for the tag sale.”

“Where is the box?”

“I don’t know.”

“I do,” Ryan speaks up. “Mom and I brought everything to the basement of Glenhaven Episcopal.”



Sam.

Incredible.

Sam Henning is behind this—if that’s his real name.

Of course. That day she saw the Peeping Tom in the backyard…it was he. It must have been. Why didn’t she trust her instincts? Why was it so easy to chalk it up to a trick of the light, or paranoia, or stress, or whatever the hell excuse she used to decide there was nobody there?

He was there. Watching her. Waiting.

But why the charade? What does he want from her? From her kids?

Is he keeping them at the house on Castle Street?

There’s one way to find out. She can sneak through the yard and peek through the windows.