Scared To Death (Live to Tell #2)(31)

There are no memories of his ex-wife here. Tanya never set foot in this apartment; never wanted to. Irony of ironies: She didn’t approve of his being a private detective—not at first, anyway—because it took him away from her at all hours, sometimes for days at a time. Nights at a time.

Caught up in whatever case he was working on, Mike didn’t always think to call to check in. Then one night, he did—and sensed that she wasn’t alone. That was the beginning of the end.

How many philandering spouses had he nailed through his work? Too many. But somehow, he seemed to have compartmentalized his life, convincing himself that his own marriage was different, overlooking classic signs that would have been red flags if he were investigating a case.

What Tanya had done just didn’t happen in his own little world. Not to him.

And yet, in this business, he’d trained himself to consider every possibility…and sometimes, the impossibilities, as well. Because you just never know.

Hell, no. You never know.

Determined to ignore the bitter memory of Tanya and the rumbling in his stomach, Mike closes the fridge, thinking about the Cavalons.

He’d chalk up their situation to mere mischief, break-in and all, if it weren’t for Spider-Man.

That’s not a coincidence. No way. If his years in this business have taught him anything—other than that anything is possible—it’s that there are no coincidences.

Yeah. Coincidences. They’re impossible.

Mike’s head is spinning. Too much to think about.

He resumes pacing.

So far, he knows only that someone out there is up to something.

Someone who knew about Jeremy and Spider-Man.

Who knew?

Elsa and Brett.

A handful of cops on the case.

Garvey Quinn and his pawns.

Jeremy himself.

Not a whole lot of suspects to choose from, particularly since a couple of them happen to be dead.

Okay, so go to the motive. What motive would anyone have for hurting the Cavalons? Revenge?

Among that handful of people who knew about Spider-Man, who would possibly have a reason to bear a grudge after all these years? Certainly not the parents, and not the cops. Garvey Quinn—but he’s in jail, his mistress is dead, the hit men won’t care, and—

Mike stops in his tracks.

But that’s impossible…isn’t it?



The nightmare is familiar. Jeremy’s been having it for years.

Now, though, he knows it’s not a nightmare at all. It’s a memory, yet another one that’s been let loose to drift through his brain and torment him.

“All you have to do is triple up on his pain meds tonight…” the man is saying, and the woman’s strange, gold-colored eyes are filled with misgiving.

They don’t know Jeremy is watching them, listening to every word, as he plays with his Spider-Man superhero on the floor of the hotel room. They don’t know that he understands exactly what they’re talking about: that he’s going to die tonight. They don’t see that his hands are shaking in terror, or that tears are streaming down his cheeks. They don’t even look at him.

“You’re stronger than you think. I believe in you…You do what has to be done, and then you wash your hands and you move on. Right?”

The woman nods in agreement. The man kisses her, then swings his pretty little dark-haired daughter onto his hip and leaves without a backward glance.

Jeremy looks up, and the woman is staring at the closed door after them, shaking her head.

Somehow, in that moment, he grasps that there might be hope, and he swiftly wipes his tears on his sleeve.

She turns, sees him watching her. “Come on,” she says abruptly. “Let’s go for a walk.”

The foreign city is unbearably crowded. He still doesn’t know where they are; only that they flew for a long time to get here, and no one speaks English.

Few people on the street make eye contact with him, but whenever anyone does, he begs for help. “Please, can you help me get home to my mother? I want my mother!”

Sometimes, he even cries. But it’s useless. Even when he sees a flash of sympathy in a stranger’s glance, he can’t communicate that he’s been kidnapped, that he’s in danger.

There are so many other troubled children on the teeming streets: orphans sleeping in filthy gutters, starving beggars dressed in rags. Children who look just like him, with glossy black hair and enormous, frightened black eyes.

With one hand, he clutches his Spider-Man action figure; with the other, he tries to hold on to the woman, but she keeps slipping out of her grasp. Always, he finds her again, clings to her…until an elephant plods slowly past, and a memory stirs within. A memory of home, and being with his mother at the zoo…

“Oh look, Jeremy…” Mommy is laughing, pointing, “look at the elephant!”

Mommy! Why did you let them take me away? Why aren’t you coming to find me?

His eyes blur with tears, and when he brushes them away and reaches for the hand of the woman with the yellow eyes, it’s gone. She’s gone, and he’s alone now, and he knows that he’s never going home again…

No, it’s not a nightmare. It’s a memory.

A grown man, alone in the dark in a strange bed once again, Jeremy cries for his mother.