Live to Tell (Live to Tell #1)(97)

There he is dressed as a Pilgrim for the Thanksgiving pageant and as a monster for Halloween.

He was supposed to be a clown that year, Elsa recalls. She sewed him an adorable ruffled costume out of bright gingham patchwork fabric. He hated it.

“I want to be a bad guy!”

Jeremy threw a violent tantrum, and she gave in.

That was the usual pattern.

She spoiled him. She knows it now. Knew it then, really. But she kept trying to make up for the suffering he’d endured before he came to live with them. The doctors kept telling her that his problems weren’t her fault. That his severe mood swings and frightening behavior were a combined result of genetics and the abuse he’d suffered before he came to live with the Cavalons. Elsa and Brett were told that the right combination of medication and therapy could turn Jeremy’s life around.

They never had a chance to find it.



As they comb through piles of discarded toys and clothes and household items, Lauren manages to hold up her end of the endless conversation Janet forces on her.

Yes, the kids loved camp.

No, she doesn’t know where the summer went.

Yes, the weather is lousy today.

No, she hasn’t heard the forecast.

“I’m thinking of throwing a little dinner party next weekend,” Janet tells her, “if you’re available. We have some new neighbors in Glenhaven Crossing and I thought it would be nice to introduce them around. Can you make it?”

This is positively surreal.

“Lauren? Are you free next weekend?”

“Maybe—I’m not sure.” She rifles through a pile of hats and mittens, looking for a sign of pink fur.

“You really should try to make it. It would be nice for you and Jennifer to become friends, since you both have young children.”

“Jessica,” Lauren corrects her. “And actually, we already met.”

“You met Jennifer? Where?”

“Jessica,” Lauren says again. “Her last name is Wolfe. I met her at the pool. She has a baby, right?”

“He’s not exactly a baby. Bobby is four. Sadie’s age. And their last name is Seaver.”

“I must be thinking of someone else.”

“Who?” Janet presses.

“I don’t know, there was a woman named Jessica who said she lives in Glenhaven Crossing.”

“But the Seavers are the only ones who have moved in lately.”

“It was a while ago. At least a year, maybe two.”

“I don’t know anyone in the neighborhood named Jessica.”

Wanting to scream, Lauren says, “You’ll meet her, I guess.”

“No. Trust me, I know what goes on in every house in the Crossing.”

Yes, I’m sure you do.

This is a nightmare. A living—

“Oh my goodness, look!” Janet is triumphant, pointing to several boxes tucked under a long table. “These haven’t even been opened yet!”

They’re Lauren’s. She can tell by looking at them. Alana was obviously in no hurry to sort through the Walsh donations.

Lauren dives under the table and looks for the one marked “FRAGILE.”

No…no…no… Yes! There it is.

Anxiously, she rips open the flaps.

No stuffed animal.

She goes through the whole box, just in case. Nothing.

Frantic, she tears into the others, tossing the contents into a pile on the floor.

“Whoa there, take it easy,” Janet protests mildly.

“It’s not here!” Her eyes are flooded.

“Relax, I’m sure it’ll turn up. Is there any chance it’s still at home? Maybe you were mistaken about giving it away.”

Lauren shakes her head. It definitely wasn’t in Sadie’s room.

She closes her eyes, picturing the barren dresser top. Unless it was someplace else in the room?

Suddenly, she realizes something.

She hadn’t seen Sadie’s Dora the Explorer pillow, either. Or her favorite Barbies on the nightstand.

Granted, she’d been distracted, but…

I don’t think they were there.

Sadie would never give away any of those precious possessions. So where are they?

“Lauren?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay?”

She looks up at Janet. “I have to go.”

“But—”

Lauren is already on her way out the door.





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN




Walking into the house again, Lauren can feel the presence as palpably as she could feel the earlier emptiness.

He’s here.

She doesn’t let on, treading cautiously across the floor.

“Chauncey?” she calls, unsettled.

Silence.

Her instinct is to go straight upstairs to Sadie’s room, to see if her hunch is correct. She fights it, though. She can’t do that.

The stuffed toy is her only bargaining chip. Once Sam has it, there will be no reason for him to return the children.

She makes her way to the kitchen, her eyes peeled for any sign of an intruder. She sees nothing, but knows he’s lurking.

Goosebumps prickle the skin on the back of her neck.

What if he already has the toy? Maybe he beat her to it.