Scared To Death (Live to Tell #2)(77)

“Really?”

“Why not? I’ll call you, okay?”

“Okay. When?”

“As soon as possible.”

“Great. So, uh, have a good sleep.”

“Yeah.” He yawns loudly. Maybe he really is tired. “You too.”

“I definitely will,” Caroline assures him, and hangs up the phone.

Tomorrow isn’t ideal, but it’s better than nothing.



With a silent curse, Jeremy hangs up the phone.

Caroline’s call caught him off guard. He didn’t know what to do, what to say.

So you told her you’ll get together with her tomorrow?

He was nervous. It just popped out somehow.

Maybe he should call her back now and tell her the truth.

Not the whole truth, of course. Just that he’s been called out of town, to Boston, and won’t be around tomorrow.

Then again, maybe he should see her. Maybe it’s time to come clean. Tell Caroline that his name isn’t really Jake.

He plucked that from thin air that day in Starbucks. Jake…as in Jacobson…as in the surgeon who’d given him a fresh start. It seemed fitting.

Still does.

No. Jeremy puts his phone back into his pocket. He won’t call Caroline back tonight. Better to wait and see what tomorrow brings.

Sleep tight, sis.



The night drags on past midnight, into morning, and still, there’s been no change in Mike Fantoni’s condition.

Doctors and nurses check the patient, requiring the visitors to leave the room for a bit. So far, no one has asked Brett who he is or how he got in here. The staff seems too sympathetic, or maybe just too busy, to worry about rules.

“This is torture,” Joe comments, rolling a pen back and forth between his right thumb and forefinger and looking at the clock. It’s almost two in the morning now.

“I’ll stay here with him if you want to go get something to eat, or grab a few hours’ sleep,” Brett offers, realizing Joe is probably desperate for a cigarette.

“You don’t mind?”

“Not at all.”

Brett doesn’t have to volunteer twice.

Left alone in the room, he sits for a long time in the uncomfortable chair, watching Mike.

Finally, he goes over to the bed. “I don’t know if you can hear me. It’s Brett Cavalon. I’m so sorry this happened to you.” He pauses to clear his throat. “I know you were looking into what happened down in Groton yesterday, and I know you were heading to Mumbai. If you—”

“Excuse me!”

He looks up and is startled to see a scrubs-clad stranger in the doorway.

“Who are you?” So much for the kindly nurses who looked the other way. This one clearly isn’t thrilled to find him here.

Brett takes a step back from the bed. “I’m a friend of Mike’s.”

“You’ll have to leave. No one is supposed to be in here right now.”

Judging by the no-nonsense expression, Brett figures it’s no use arguing—and, considering the patient’s condition, no use staying.

He leans over Mike one last time, again whispering, “I’m so sorry. Hang in there. I’ll be back when I can.”



“Mommy!”

Renny!

Elsa’s eyes snap open.

She sits up in bed.

No—she’s not in bed. It’s dark, but she’s…

Where am I? What’s going on?

Disoriented, she knows only that Renny is calling her. She gets her feet onto the floor, takes a step, and bumps into something.

“Ouch!”

The coffee table? What is she doing in the living room? Why—?

Then the memories hit like a barrage of bullets and she rushes toward her daughter’s bedroom, her heart pounding.

“I’m coming, Renny!” she calls out, remembering but not caring that the house might be bugged.

The door is closed. No, no, no…they never close Renny’s door. Something is wrong.

She jerks the knob, bursts through the door, and flips on the light.

The bed is empty.

She’s too late.

Reeling, Elsa flattens a palm against the wall to stay on her feet.

How could she have let this happen? How could she have fallen asleep knowing that someone out there wants to hurt her daughter?

Oh God. Please, God, no.

He can’t have taken Renny very far. But if he’s armed—

“Mommy!”

She lets out a whimper of relief as Renny’s voice hits her, along with the recollection that she’s not sleeping in her own bed tonight.

Elsa races back to the master bedroom, terrified of what she might find there.

Renny looks small and defenseless in the king-sized bed—and as disoriented as Elsa herself was just moments ago. A quick glance reveals that the room is empty—apparently so, anyway.

“What’s the matter?” She gathers Renny into her arms.

“The monster.”

Elsa’s heart stops. “He’s here?”

Renny nods and buries her head against Elsa’s breast.

“Where? Where is he, Renny?”

“I don’t know. I saw him…” A tremendous yawn overtakes her.