Scared To Death (Live to Tell #2)(17)

She really should get going.

She sneaks another peek at him.

He’s totally laid back, with a surfer kind of appeal: casually shaggy, sun-streaked hair, a natural-looking tan you don’t typically see in Manhattan, even in the summer, and a Rip Curl T-shirt. He’s the antithesis of Caroline, with her creamy complexion and dark hair salon-styled in a long, chic fringe that cost even more than her two-hundred-dollar jeans.

But then again, she did learn to surf last summer, out east in the Hamptons. And anyway, opposites attract…isn’t that what they say?

Surfer Boy smiles at her.

Yeah. She’ll get going in a minute.

Maybe two.



“I want to go home, Mommy,” Renny says yet again from the backseat. “I want to make my sandcastle.”

“I know, we will—but not just yet.”

Jaw set, Elsa drives on, wishing Brett would hurry and call her back on her cell phone.

Driving around and around the most well-populated local areas, it’s all she can do to maintain her composure for Renny’s sake. Hands clammy on the steering wheel, she keeps an eye on the rearview mirror. She’s pretty sure the coast is clear so far, yet her heart is pounding as if someone is following—no, chasing them.

When at last her phone rings, she’s stopped at a light on U.S. 1. Startled by the sound, she jerks her foot off the brake for a split second. The car moves—less than an inch toward the bumper of the car ahead of her, but still…

You shouldn’t be behind the wheel in this state.

She looks around for a place to pull over, reaching for the phone with a trembling hand. “Hello?”

“Elsa! Are you all right?”

Brett. Thank God.

“We are, but…” She darts a glance over her shoulder. Renny meets it with a head-on, inquisitive stare.

“What’s going on?” Brett asks worriedly. “Where are you?”

“We’re on U.S. 1.”

“On U.S. 1? Why? Where on U.S. 1?”

“Long Hill Road”—she looks around—“by the Sunoco.”

Darting a glance at the dashboard gauge, she sees that the needle is almost on E. She hadn’t even thought to check it until this moment.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

What if they had run out of gas? She and Renny would have been sitting in the car like bait in a trap…

No. You’re getting carried away. It’s broad daylight; there are people and cars all around. Calm down.

She quickly turns into the gas station and pulls up to a pump. “Brett, listen, just hang on for a second, I need to talk to you.”

Reaching for the door handle, the phone clutched in her other hand, she tells Renny, “Stay buckled in, okay?”

“Where are you going?”

“To get some gas,” Elsa murmurs, and climbs out of the car with the phone.

Stopped cold by a fleeting imaginary image—a stranger pushing her aside and driving off with Renny—she reaches back to grab the keys, and locks the door before closing it.

“Mommy! Noooooooo!”

Elsa spins around to see her daughter’s frantic expression, her palms splayed helplessly against the window.

“Oh, Renny!” She swiftly unlocks the car and the child hurtles herself out in a sobbing panic. Elsa grabs on to her, wraps her arms around her violently shaking little body. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”

“You shut me in!”

“I didn’t mean it, baby, I was just trying to keep you safe…”

“Elsa, please, what is going on?” Brett is asking in her ear. “Elsa!”

She wants to scream at him to shut up, to just let her deal with Renny right now. But of course he’s alarmed, clueless, thinking God only knows what.

“Wait, please, Brett, just give me a second! Renny, it’s okay. You’re okay. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Her worst fear. How could I do that to her?

Elsa is zapped by a white-hot bolt of fury—at herself, at whoever was prowling around their home in the middle of the night, violating her little girl’s safe haven.

Was it a random incident? A would-be burglar? Or…someone else? Someone who knows them, knows about Jeremy…

Fear mingles with fury as Elsa guides her daughter gently back down into the car seat. “Just sit right here, you don’t even have to strap in yet, and we’ll leave the door open…”

Conscious of Brett impatiently waiting on the other end of the phone, she settles Renny in as quickly as possible and turns toward the gas pump, furtively checking out the other customers, the cars, the vegetation alongside the parking lot…

If anything happens—if anyone makes a move toward Renny—she’ll use the nozzle like a gun and—

Something catches Elsa’s eye, on the ground beside the open back door of the car. In disbelief, she bends over to take a closer look, because it can’t be…it just can’t be.

But it is.

Dear God. Dread slices through her.



Taking out a laptop, Surfer Boy looks across the small table at Caroline, “Do you mind if I…?”

“Oh. No.” She moves her own drink cup to make room. She really was just leaving, but for some reason, she can’t seem to make herself get up and go.