Sleepwalker (Nightwatcher #2)(55)

“No, that’s all right. I’m sure you need him at home.”

“I think you guys might need him more here.”

“We’re okay. Would you mind getting the girls to school tomorrow, though? They’ve missed two days this week with the closings, and—” Remembering, she says, “Mack can come get them and bring them to school. He’ll be around.”

Hearing his name, he looks over. “What’s that?”

“You can pick up the girls from Randi’s in the morning and drop them at school if I have to . . . be someplace else.”

“What’s tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow . . . ? I don’t even know what today is. I can’t think straight.”

“Today is Tuesday,” Randi tells them.

Allison and Mack exchange a startled glance. She knows he’s thinking exactly what she is: that things really do seem to happen on Tuesdays.

September 11 . . .

And the freak earthquake that shook Manhattan . . .

They even got the news about Jerry Thompson’s suicide on a Tuesday.

Jerry.

If Jerry is dead, then how . . . ?

Stop it, Allison. He’s dead. You know it.

That’s what Mack had told her earlier, when he first got home and she told him about the nightgown.

Yes, he’s dead. She knows. But . . .

“I can’t be here in the morning,” Mack is saying now. “I have a meeting.”

“You’re going to work?”

“Daddy always goes to work on Wednesday, Mommy,” Hudson reminds her.

“I know that, but I thought maybe Daddy would stay home tomorrow,” she says pointedly.

“Because Mrs. Lewis died? Does that mean you get to stay home, Daddy?”

“No, it does not mean I get to stay home, Huddy.”

Allison shoots him an incredulous look.

Seeing it, Randi quickly defuses the tension, saying, “Well, no matter what happens with that, there’s no need for you to come and get the girls to school. I’ll do it, and I’ll pick them up, too, so that you have one less thing to worry about. We’ll go out shopping and have ice cream. Maybe Lexi will come, too.”

“Randi, you don’t have to—”

The girls cut off Allison, thrilled about the prospect of an afternoon with Aunt Randi and Lexi, their own personal teen idol.

“The thing is,” Allison says, “you can only pick up Madison if you have our password to give the dismissal monitor. Otherwise, they won’t let you take her.”

Randi nods, familiar with the preschool’s many security measures. Her kids went there, too, years ago.

Long gone are the days when a relative or friend can just pop in to pick up a student if the parents can’t make it due to the occasional mishap or emergency. The password system is simple, but it prevents unauthorized people—sometimes even noncustodial parents—from taking a child. Each family has a secret phrase the pinch hitter must tell them so that the school, and the child, will know that the person can be trusted and that the change in plans came from the parent.

“So what’s the password?”

“Cookie Monster,” Allison tells Randi. It’s been in place since the beginning of the year, but they’ve never had to use it yet.

“But where will you be, Mommy?” Maddy asks belatedly—and worriedly.

“Don’t worry, sweetie, I might have to run some errands and then I’ll meet you over at Aunt Randi’s. Okay?”

Having been listening to the details and looking as though she’s poised to make a to-do list, Hudson asks briskly, “Now, what about me?”

Good question.

The elementary school doesn’t have a password system. Every afternoon, the big yellow bus lets Hudson off just down the block from their house, and Allison meets her there.

Remembering the bus mishap she heard about at Randi’s party a few weeks ago, Allison immediately decides it’s best not to tamper with her daughter’s daily routine.

“How about if you just take the bus back here like you do every day, Huddy? Like I said, I’ll probably be here, too, but if I’m not, Aunt Randi will be waiting with Maddy. Is that okay, Aunt Randi?”

“Absolutely.”

“But we still get to go shopping and for ice cream?”

“Absolutely,” Randi assures again, and Hudson asks if J.J. will be able to come with them, too.

“Probably not,” Allison says quickly, thinking there’s no way she’d send Randi off with all three kids—plus Lexi, whose adolescent drama queen antics can be all-encompassing.

Though she wonders whether the police will be willing to talk to her if she’s got a squirming baby on her lap . . .

But Mack actually seems to think he might be going to work, despite all that’s happened here, so she may not have a choice.

“Come on, Rand,” he says, handing off J.J. into Allison’s waiting arms, “I’ll walk you guys out to the car.”

He takes the two overnight bags and herds everyone toward the back door after one last kiss and hug from Mommy. Randi parked on the driveway, which is, luckily, on the opposite side of the house from the Lewis home.

Left alone in the quiet house, Allison cuddles J.J. and kisses his fine baby hair. “It’s going to be okay,” she whispers, more to herself than to him.