Scared To Death (Live to Tell #2)(65)

Blackmail was what triggered Garvey Quinn’s heinous plot last summer.

“Stupid thing to say. I’m sorry, Lucy. You know I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay.”

Someday, Lauren hopes as she crosses her daughter’s bedroom, this whole thing might really be behind them once and for all, and they’ll never have to worry about stirring up painful memories.

But somehow, she doubts it.

One man’s evil has scarred so many innocent people for life: Lauren and her children, Marin and hers, the Cavalon family, even Sam…

All of them are forced to live with the fallout.

Live…that’s the key word, Lauren reminds herself. It could have been so much worse.

She looks down at her daughter. “I just wanted to tell you how proud I am of the way you handled yourself when you met Marin Quinn.”

“Oh…yeah. Well, what did you expect me to do? And, I mean…it wasn’t her fault, right? What her bastard husband did?”

Ordinarily, Lauren would reprimand her for using bad language. In this case, it’s well deserved. In fact, nothing she can think of is strong enough for Garvey Quinn.

“No,” she tells Lucy, “it wasn’t Marin’s fault.”

“She seemed nice. But nervous.”

“Yes.” Nervous, and frightened, and dangerously fragile…

“Is she okay, Mom?”

“I hope so, Lucy. I really do.”

Garvey Quinn has claimed enough victims.

Please, God, don’t let there be any more.



As Elsa stares at the uniformed stranger behind Renny, her thoughts race from one wild scenario to another.

Is he armed?

Has he taken Renny hostage?

Does he want something in return for her release?

“I couldn’t find you, Mommy!” Renny’s expression is accusatory—but not frightened.

“She got off an elevator in the basement. Ozzy spotted her on one of the surveillance screens, wandering around down there.”

Tom’s words fail to register, but his avuncular tone certainly does.

“I…”

Dazed, Elsa looks from him to Renny and back again, trying to assess the situation. Are his words meant to be informative, or menacing? She wants desperately to snatch her daughter from his clutches, but does she dare?

Before she can make a move, Tom releases Renny.

“I’ve got to get back downstairs to work.” He ruffles her dark hair playfully. “No more running away from your mother, you hear me?”

“She ran away from me.”

He laughs and shakes his head, then heads down the hall.

Elsa slams the door shut behind him and grabs on to her daughter, burying her face in Renny’s shoulder with a sob.

“Why are you crying?”

“I’m so relieved. How did you…did you actually take an elevator?”

Renny nods. “I was scared when you left. I kept calling you but you didn’t come back, so I pressed the button.”

“But…you don’t like elevators.”

“I was brave,” Renny tells her matter-of-factly. “I had to find you.”

“Thank God you did.”

“Tom helped me.”

“I know.”

At least, for now, they’re safe. And it’s time to go…somewhere.

As if she’s reading Elsa’s mind, Renny asks, “Can we go home now?”

“Oh, sweetie…” You have no idea how badly I want to say yes. “Not just yet. You don’t really want to get back on the train tonight, do you?”

“We can call Daddy to come get us.”

Call Daddy—another fierce stab of longing. Elsa desperately wants to connect with Brett.

Forget the possibility that her phone is bugged. Right now, all that matters is hearing her husband’s voice.

I’ve got to find my phone and get us out of here.

She hurries Renny to the kitchen, plotting their exit from the building.

They’ll avoid the lobby, she decides, still not sure whether to trust Tom. He did say he saw her mother, and her mother isn’t here. Why would he lie? If he wasn’t lying, then is it possible…

The idea is so far-fetched that Elsa refuses to allow herself to consider it.

In the kitchen, she sees the bag of Chinese food on the counter, the ominously empty slot in the knife holder.

But no cell phone.

A quick search, then a more thorough one, and there’s still no sign of it.

Maybe she was mistaken about dropping it here in the apartment.

Maybe she lost it while she was chasing through the building, or—

Or maybe whoever was here and took the knife came back and stole my phone as well.



Brett rummages through the drawer, looking for the little address book where Elsa keeps all the household phone numbers: the take-out pizza place, the plumber, the pediatrician…and presumably, Joan.

Brett has to call the therapist, and the sooner the better.

If Elsa is losing touch with reality, finding out about Mike’s accident might push her over the edge.

A hit-and-run.

Unbelievable.

The way Mike’s friend Joe described it, Mike had just stepped out of his building on Hanover Street, and the car came barreling at him.