Scared To Death (Live to Tell #2)(86)

“So maybe she really did bug the phones or the house. May—ouch! Dammit!”

He’s cut himself. A scarlet trickle runs down his cheek like a bloody tear.

Seeing it, Elsa shivers, seized by an inexplicable chill of foreboding.





CHAPTER FOURTEEN




Striving for normalcy—for Renny’s sake, and their own—Elsa and Brett have spent the last few hours watching television on the couch with their daughter between them. Elsa has almost managed to convince herself that it really is just any other Saturday morning—until the doorbell rings.

She looks at Brett in alarm, even though she knows Marin Quinn is hardly likely to show up boldly on their doorstep.

“It’s probably UPS,” Brett says unconvincingly.

“Do they even deliver on Saturdays?”

“Sure they do.”

“Shh, I love this song.” Renny is fixated on the screen, where Ariel the Little Mermaid is singing the “Part of Your World” reprise.

“Stay here with her,” Brett tells Elsa in a low voice. “I’ll go see who it is.”

She instinctively pulls Renny a little closer to her side as he leaves the room.

Even if Marin Quinn really were at the door, Brett would never let her get past him.

But what if she has a gun, and forces her way in?

Elsa’s heart pounds wildly as she waits, her whole body tense.

Oblivious, Renny sings along with a plaintive Ariel, longing to stay and live where she is now.

Elsa hears Brett open the door.

For a moment, the swelling music and Renny’s voice drown out whatever’s happening in the hall.

Then Elsa hears Brett. “…nice to meet you. Please come in.”

Relief courses through her. He would never say that to Marin Quinn. Never in a million years.

“Elsa?” Brett calls from the hall. “Bring Renny in. Her new caseworker is here.”



Caroline’s offer to come meet him in Boston had caught Jeremy completely off guard. But he’d quickly realized that while it hadn’t been his own idea, it was a good one.

He can’t leave New England until he takes care of business once and for all, and he wasn’t thrilled about keeping the whole Caroline situation on hold until that’s over.

She’s already on her way here, having caught an early Acela. “It’s a high-speed train,” she told him excitedly. “I’ll be in Boston in a few hours, tops.”

“That’s great. I’ll meet you by the Dunkin’ Donuts in South Station.”

“Can’t wait.”

“Me either.”

Lying, Jeremy realizes as he hangs up the phone, is getting to be a regular habit.



Thank God I left the kids at home, Lauren thinks as she hikes toward the terminal at JFK airport. She wound up parking what feels like—and might actually be—miles away, after wasting half an hour circling around hoping to find a vacant spot in the jammed short-term lots.

At least her mother-in-law’s flight from the West Coast landed late, according to the arrivals board. Hopefully, she’s already collected her luggage and hasn’t been waiting too long.

If she’s anything like her son, patience isn’t her strong suit. Nick always hated flying for that reason. He couldn’t stand to wait at the gate, or on the runway, or at the baggage claim…

Nick. Even now, Lauren feels a little stab of shock. Never in a million years would she have imagined that he’d leave her, or—

Or what about this? Being here, today?

She’d certainly never pictured herself coming face-to-face with the mother-in-law who hadn’t even seen her own son in decades.

That’s partly why she didn’t want to drag the kids down here this morning. Not just because they act more human when they sleep in—they probably won’t even wake up for at least another hour—but because she wanted to meet their grandmother before thrusting her upon the kids.

She seemed cordial enough on the phone—even wistful. But what kind of woman turns her back on her own young son?

As Lauren hurries into the crowded baggage claim area, her cell phone rings. It’s probably Nick’s mother now, wondering where she is.

Taking it out of her pocket, she glances at the caller ID window.

Marin.

Yesterday’s worry for her friend comes rushing back at her. About to answer the phone, she hears a voice calling her name.

“Lauren? Lauren Walsh?”

She looks up.

A woman is coming toward her—a woman with silver hair and Nick’s eyes and Nick’s smile and tears rolling down her weathered cheeks…

Marin momentarily forgotten, Lauren shoves her phone back into her pocket and opens her arms to her mother-in-law.



Brett can see that Elsa’s hand is shaking a bit as she pours hot water from the whistling tea kettle into a trio of bone china cups on the counter.

She’s doing everything she can to convince the new caseworker that this is a carefree household; that they’re the perfect parents for Renny.

He notices that she leaves the box of tea—expensive, fair trade organic green tea—prominently placed on the counter. No one wanted it, but she made it anyway.

Maybe she’s trying too hard; maybe they both are.