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  “Okay. ’Night, Alyssa.”

  Lauren hangs up, envying her sister a cozy evening at home with her husband. It’s been so long since she and Nick were that happy that she can’t even remember what it was like.

  And I don’t want to. What’s the use now?

  Picking up her magazine again, she turns a couple of pages, still unable to focus. This time, it’s not because she’s daydreaming about Sam.

  Nick probably wants to tell her that he’s marrying Beth.

  But if not…

  After all he’s put us through—the kids and me—he’s out of his mind if he thinks he’s going to walk back in here and pick up where we left off.

  If that’s what he wants, she’ll say no. She’s ready to move on. He should know that. She should tell him. In person.

  She snatches up the phone and thumb-types a return message.

  I’ll be there.

  She hesitates, looking at it. What if she’s not strong enough to tell him he can’t come home? What if she says yes when she means no?

  It wouldn’t be the first time.

  But she’s different now. Stronger.

  Why? Because some good-looking guy paid attention to you?

  Sam did ask for her phone number.

  Yeah—so what? He’s a flirt. You don’t know anything about him. You don’t know if you’re ready to go out on a date. You don’t know if he’ll actually even call. Look at the way you got your hopes up just now, thinking it was him.

  This is crazy.

  Lauren might not know what she wants, exactly, but she knows what she doesn’t want. A cheating ex-husband tops the list.

  If Nick tells me he wants to come home, I’ll say no. Gladly.

  Jaw set, she hits send.

  Lying wide-awake in her bed, listening to thunder, Sadie thinks back over the day. Mostly, she thinks about one thing that happened. It’s been bothering her, and she’s not sure why.

  Well, maybe she is.

  Mommy has always told her not to talk to strangers. Once, she even read Sadie a library book about that very thing. About how strangers don’t always look like bad guys—they could be disguised as nice guys, or even nice women. Sometimes, they try to make friends with children by giving them candy or asking for directions or saying that Mommy said to get a ride home with them.

  But what if the person doesn’t do any of those things?

  What if the person is someone Mommy herself has talked to?

  What if the person even knows Sadie’s name?

  Does the person still count as a stranger then?

  Sadie didn’t think so at the time.

  It was broad daylight, and her mother was nearby, so there was no need to worry.

  So when asked, “It’s a beautiful day today, isn’t it?” Sadie agreed that it was. Like Mommy said, it was rude to ignore someone’s question.

  “What’s your favorite thing to do on a beautiful day, Sadie?”

  “Swim in the pool,” she answered, “or swing on the swings.”

  “How about on a rainy day?”

  She shrugged.

  “I like to read books on rainy days. How about you, Sadie?”

  “I can’t really read yet.”

  “Well, I bet you like to color in your coloring books, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And play with your toys? What toys do you like to play with?”

  “My Little Pony. And puzzles. And…lots of stuff.”

  “Stuffed animals?”

  “No, I said lots of stuff,” Sadie repeated.

  “Stuff like stuffed animals?”

  Sadie couldn’t help but grin. “Sometimes.”

  She was enjoying the conversation.

  Adults usually don’t really bother to talk to kids, and when they do, they seem like they’re only pretending to be interested.

  This was different.

  For a change, someone was interested.

  She talked about her favorite stuffed animals. She talked about Fred. She told how Daddy promised to get him back from the lost and found, but didn’t. She even mentioned the stupid pink dog.

  “And where is the pink dog now?”

  For the first time since the conversation started, Sadie hesitated. Should she tell? Even Mommy doesn’t know the truth.

  If she didn’t tell Mommy, she probably shouldn’t tell someone else, she decided.

  No matter how nice the person is.

  “Sadie? Where’s the pink dog?”

  “I don’t know,” Sadie lied.

  That’s something she hardly ever does. Whenever she lies to Mommy, Mommy seems to know.

  Mommy isn’t the only one.

  She could tell the stranger—and it really was a stranger, she decides now, no matter what she thought at first—didn’t believe her about the dog.

  “Sure you do, Sadie. You know. Come on. Think about it. You’ll remember.”

  “I didn’t forget. I just don’t know.”

  “I’ll bet you do.” There wasn’t any anger, or anything like that.

  Yet now, thinking back on the conversation, Sadie feels scared. She doesn’t know why.

  Maybe she should tell Mommy about it.

  But then she might get into trouble.

  I won’t tell, Sadie decides. I’ll just make sure I never, ever, ever talk to strangers again.

  It’s when kids get involved—that’s when it’s hard.

  It was true fourteen years ago, and it’s true now.

  Hard, but not impossible. There’s no question that the little girl knows what happened to that pink stuffed dog. The lie was blatant in those big green eyes of hers. But for whatever reason, she’s not talking.

  Not to me, anyway.

  Not yet.

  Could it be that Sadie Walsh found the memory stick hidden inside the toy? If she did, it’s only a matter of time before she turns it over to her mother. Maybe she already has.

  If that’s the case, then Garvey’s a sitting duck. And he’s not the only one.

  There was a time when self-sacrifice would have been an automatic, even willing, move to make.

  But Garvey was a different man back then. A man worth dying for.

  Or was he?

  Is anyone?

  What makes one human life more valuable than another?

  Mine… Caroline’s… Jeremy’s…

  Garvey’s…

  Maybe I was such an idealist that I didn’t want to see him for who—for what—he really was all along…

  A cold-blooded murderer.

  And now…he’s not the only one with blood on his hands.

  You do what has to be done, and then you wash your hands and you move on.

  Or so Garvey likes to say.

  But there is no moving on just yet. The worst is yet to come. The plan is in motion. By this time tomorrow, it will be over, one way or another.

  You don’t even have kids, Garvey said—as though it’s any easier for a childless person to obliterate the life of a child.

  Or children.

  A mother, for that matter, or a father.

  All for the sake of…what? Ambition? Justice?

  Garvey Quinn was wronged—no doubt about that. Byron Gregson got what he had coming.

  This is different.

  The Walsh family didn’t blackmail Garvey. Do they really deserve to die?

  Did Jeremy Cavalon?

  To Garvey, they’re all disposable players in a game he’s been waiting all his life to win.

  What makes you think you’ll be spared if he ever finds out you defied his orders to do whatever has to be done?

  Only a fool with a death wish would take that risk.

  It’ll all be worth it when this is over and Garvey is sitting in the governor’s mansion.

  When that day comes, I’ll put all of this behind me; make a fresh start somewhere…

  If I survive.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Ryan opens his eyes to a dreary morning, rain pat
tering on the gabled roof above his bed.

  The clock on his nightstand tells him it’s past ten, but he might as well roll over and go back to sleep.

  No pool today. Nothing else to do. Most of his friends are busy, other than Ian, who texted last night and invited Ryan to come over and play a new Xbox game. Ryan lied that he had other plans.

  Maybe he shouldn’t have. Maybe he should go after all.

  But then he’ll have to deal with nosy Mrs. Wasserman again, and he’s afraid he might snap and tell her to mind her own business. She probably deserves it, but he has a feeling Mom won’t see it that way. She told Ryan he has to be polite, no matter what.

  He stares at the sloping ceiling, lined with taped-up magazine posters of his favorite baseball players. He hasn’t even been to a game at Yankee Stadium this season. Dad takes him every year; he gets great box seats from someone at work. Ryan asked him about it a few months ago, and he said he’d look into it.

  Now the summer’s almost over.

  Actually, Ryan’s kind of glad about that.

  Other years, he couldn’t get enough of summer, on nice days and rainy ones, too—the weather didn’t matter. There always seemed to be something to do. Even lying around with nothing to do held a certain appeal.

  Back then, he never worried that too much thinking might make him feel depressed. Not like now.

  Ryan rolls over and punches his pillow beneath his cheek.

  It’s not just the Yankee game. He really thought his father was going to be able to squeeze in their annual fishing trip. That was the one thing Ryan was worried about missing when his parents told him he was going to sleepaway camp.

  “Don’t worry, Ry,” Dad told him. “There will be plenty of fishing up at camp.”

  “But I like to go with you.”

  “We will, when you get back in August. That’s when the fish do all their biting.”

  Yeah, right.

  Whatever.

  He’ll be glad to get back to school, and sports, and having something to do every second so that he doesn’t have to dwell on how his great old life somehow turned into this totally miserable new one.

  Ryan rolls over again, trying to get comfortable. It isn’t working.

  Might as well get up.

  He slips out of bed and heads out into the hall. Lucy’s door is closed. Mom’s is open, bed made, shades up. Sadie’s door is also open, but surrounded by the “Keep Out” signs she and Mom made last night.

  Seeing them, Ryan shakes his head. His little sister is acting pretty kooky lately. Mom told him and Lucy just to go along with Sadie’s crazy story about someone prowling around her room. As if anyone would actually be interested in stealing a four-year-old’s stuff.

  Downstairs, Ryan finds Chauncey perched expectantly beside the front door.

  “What’s the matter, boy, you need to be walked?” Ryan pats the dog’s head and is rewarded with a wagging tail.

  Mom sticks her head in from the kitchen. She’s wearing makeup and earrings, and her hair is pulled back in a barrette. She looks pretty. Much too nice for this time of day.

  “Morning, Ry. John took Chauncey out earlier, but if you want to take him out to play for a while…”

  “No, thanks.”

  His mother looks disappointed. “You always loved to romp around with Chauncey. Are you too old for that now?”

  “Nah, I’ve just got some other stuff to do.”

  “What kind of stuff?”

  He shrugs.

  “Well, I need you to stay here with Sadie today while I go out and take care of some things.”

  “What things?”

  “You know…errands.” Mom bends over to finger-comb the fringe on the edge of the rug. Ryan is surprised to see that she’s wearing a skirt and blouse, and sandals with heels.

  “Geez, Mom, why didn’t you tell me yesterday that you needed me to babysit?”

  “Because I didn’t know I had to go someplace until late last night.”

  “Well, where do you have to go?”

  “Does it matter?”

  Seeing the dangerous gleam in her eye, Ryan wonders what’s going on. He nibbles a hangnail from his thumb.

  Maybe Mom’s going on a date with that guy she was talking to at the pool yesterday.

  He considers asking her about it. Then he decides he’d rather not know.

  “What do I get?” he asks instead.

  “What do you mean?”

  “For watching Sadie. If I do it, will I get paid?”

  “Yes. Fine. You’ll get paid.”

  “How long will you be gone?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “So you’re going somewhere, but you won’t tell me where, and you don’t know when you’ll be back? You would never let me get away with that.”

  “That’s because you’re the kid. I’m the mother.”

  Yeah, Ryan decides, she’s up to something for sure. And if it has to do with some guy, he really, really doesn’t want to know. He scowls.

  Mom gives him a sharp look. “What’s the problem, Ryan?”

  “There’s no problem.”

  “Are you sure? Because Sadie has been having a hard time lately, and she could use some support. It won’t kill you to entertain her while I go out.”

  “Entertain her? Like what, do a tap dance for her?”

  Mom cracks a smile.

  Ryan, in the mood to be difficult, does not. “Why can’t Lucy watch her? Why do I have to do it?”

  “You both have to watch her.” Mom is no longer smiling. “And I don’t want to hear another word about it. Got it?”

  Ryan rolls his eyes.

  “Got it?” Mom repeats.

  “Got it,” Ryan grumbles, hating her—and hating himself even more.

  From the shelter of a vine-covered trellis in a neighboring yard, the Walsh home is in full view. Under surveillance since sunup, the Victorian appears as deserted as the conveniently vacated house beside the trellis, but it isn’t. They’re in there—all four of them. Lauren, Lucy, Ryan, and Sadie.

  Only Chauncey left the house this morning, on his daily outing. He pranced along jauntily on his leash—no visible sign of any lingering effects from Monday’s sedative.

  The rest of the family has remained at home, going about their morning business—or perhaps still asleep, as the drawn shades on the girls’ bedrooms would seem to indicate.

  Sometime in the next fifteen minutes or so, Lauren Walsh is going to get into her car and drive away, and then…

  Such a shame.

  But Garvey is out of patience. It’s time to make a move. Today.

  Enjoy those sweet dreams, Lucy and Sadie.

  They might be your last.

  Marin moodily dumps the remains of her morning coffee into the sink, wishing she had time to drink it.

  “Look on the bright side,” Caroline tells her, perched at the breakfast bar eating mango and papaya from a gourmet deli container. “At least it’s raining.”

  “That’s the bright side?”

  “You wouldn’t want to go to some stupid campaign thing on a gorgeous day, would you?”

  Marin offers her a tight smile, rinses her mug, and puts it into the dishwasher.

  The truth is, she wouldn’t mind never having to go to another stupid campaign thing again.

  But that’s not going to happen. The next best thing would be skipping today’s required appearance with Garvey at a particularly troubling event.

  Marin rubs her temples.

  “Another headache?” her daughter asks.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you sick, do you think?”

  “No, it’s just stress. Why?”

  Caroline shrugs.

  “What’s up, Car?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Something.”

  Caroline looks at her for a long moment, as if weighing something. Then she shrugs. “Okay. Whatever. I just—I saw those forms you filled out for me to give to the school nu
rse next week.”

  “The forms I put into your backpack?”

  “Why didn’t you want me to look at them?”

  “I never said that.”

  “You sealed them in an envelope.”

  “I just didn’t want you to lose them, and anyway…you opened a sealed envelope?”

  “I thought it was something else.”

  “No, you didn’t. The school nurse’s name was on the envelope.”

  “Okay. Whatever. I was curious.”

  “About…?”

  “You said I had to have an operation when I was little. I was just wondering what was wrong with me.”

  “I told you—you were very sick.”

  “You never told me I had some rare genetic disease and I almost died.”

  “I never told that to the school nurse on those medical forms, either, Caroline.” Marin levels a look at her.

  Caroline returns the gaze, her chin held stubbornly high. “I must have seen it somewhere else.”

  She’s been snooping, Marin realizes. Does she know about Annie, then?

  Driving down 684 toward White Plains, the wipers beating a soggy staccato against the windshield, Lauren wonders what her ex-husband is about to tell her, trying to prepare herself…

  For what?

  For Nick marrying Beth.

  For Nick wanting to come home.

  For Nick telling her he’s suing for full custody of the kids, or that he’s moving across the country, or…

  God only knows what’s coming.

  But whatever it is, she can handle it.

  If you’re so sure of that, then why didn’t you tell the kids you were on your way to see him?

  Well, the girls didn’t exactly ask. Lucy was barely awake by the time Lauren left, and Sadie was busy picking out board games for her siblings to play with her.

  Only Ryan wanted to know where Lauren was going. She probably could have told him the truth, or at least have been more sensitive, but his attitude got to her.

  Maybe he suspects that Lauren’s outing today has to do with Nick.

  A boy needs his father. All three kids do, but especially Ryan. Especially at his age.

  If Nick really does ask her to take him back…

  He won’t. There’s no way.

  But if he does…