Scared To Death (Live to Tell #2)(73)

“All right, then. Have a good night.”

“Same to you.”

Down the block, across Seventh, down another block, around the corner onto Sixth. It’s much quieter over here; flagging a taxi is surprisingly easy on this rainy evening.

“La Guardia airport, please.”

The cabbie nods and hits the meter. “You want me to take the bridge, or the tunnel?”

“The bridge, please. I’m claustrophobic.”

The cabbie mutters disinterestedly, “Oh yeah?”

No.

But I know someone who is. And she’s got a big, big day ahead of her tomorrow.



Marin doesn’t give a damn who recognizes her as she races to the nursing station; doesn’t care who over-hears her frantic “My daughter is here. Her name is Annie—Anne. Quinn. It’s Anne Quinn, and I don’t know what happened, but I got a call—”

“All right, let me see here…” With maddening precision, one of the women behind the desk types something on a computer keyboard.

At least she didn’t say, Ma’am, please, like the female cop had, over and over. At least she’s not looking at Marin like she’s some kind of nutcase. She’s not looking at Marin at all.

“And you spell that—”

“With an E.”

“Q-U-I-N-N-E…”

“No! We spell Anne with an E! There’s no E on the end of Quinn!”

She goes back to typing as Marin grips the edge of the counter, fearful that her legs are going to give out. The lights seem garish and she closes her eyes, praying that she won’t faint right here.

“All right, come with me,” someone is saying, and Marin’s eyes snap open to see a scrubs-clad nurse with a clipboard.

Somehow, Marin’s feet carry her down the hall to a curtained-off area, and then…

There she is.

“Annie!” She rushes to the bed, swept by a massive wave of relief at finding her daughter lying there, physically intact, with her eyes open.

“Hi, Mom.” Annie smiles wanly behind the oxygen tubing that snakes up her nostrils.

“Oh, Annie—” Her voice breaks. She clears her throat, turns to the nurse. “What happened?”

“She was running in the park and she had a severe asthma attack. She collapsed, and luckily, someone called 911.”

Marin looks at Annie, trying to wrap her head around it. “You were running in the park? Was someone chasing you?”

“No! I was running. You know—jogging.”

“Jogging? But…you don’t jog.”

“Caroline said I should.”

Caroline.

Marin opens her mouth to ask why she’d tell Annie to run, then closes it again. She knows why, and she shakes her head, her bewilderment rapidly giving way to rage.

The nurse is talking again, saying something about paperwork, and that she’ll send a doctor in to speak with Marin.

Annie’s going to be all right. That’s all that matters, she tells herself, sinking into a chair beside the bed.

But in her heart, she knows that isn’t true.

Caroline, who looks so much like Garvey, acts so much like Garvey, treats Annie with as much resentment as Garvey did…

Caroline.

Caroline did this.





CHAPTER TWELVE




Despite the crummy weather, it seems that a good portion of the metropolitan New York population is headed to the New England coast for the weekend. Thanks to relentless traffic, Elsa’s two-hour trip has taken nearly five.

By the time she reaches Groton, the last two frantic days and virtually sleepless nights have taken their toll. Her shoulder blades are ablaze, her head is pounding, and her eyes desperately want to close. All she can think of is falling into her own bed—with Renny safely tucked between her and Brett—and going to sleep.

She doesn’t give a damn about anything else. As long as the doors are locked and Brett is there—

But as soon as she turns onto their block, she can see that the house is dark, the driveway empty. At this hour?

She pulls over to the curb, thoughts racing.

Maybe he’s taking advantage of their absence and working late.

Maybe he’s on his way to New York after all. Maybe he’s been trying to call her and got worried when she didn’t answer.

That must be it.

Why didn’t she try to reach him? Even if the phones are tapped and the house is bugged, she could have let him know that she and Renny are okay. How could she have been so stupid?

Stupid, scared, deliriously tired…

And now, alone once again.

Even Meg’s house next door appears unusually deserted. Oh, that’s right—she mentioned that her kids are out of town, and she’s working nights.

Ordinarily, Elsa would be glad for the opportunity to have her nosy neighbor MIA. But right now, it might be nice to have someone within earshot, just in case…

In case she needs to scream for help.

Yet no one can be in two places at the same time. Whoever was back in New York prowling around Maman’s apartment isn’t here waiting for them now, inside the house—not unless he read Elsa’s mind and somehow managed to beat her back to Groton.

For now, they’re safe here.