Live to Tell Page 30

  Yeah, right. She’d been a damned fool to go along with it. It had cost her a job that was even cushier than her last one: “babysitting” Congressman Quinn’s two teenage daughters—another job her cousin had managed to land for her.

  So when her cousin called in the favor, accepting the offer had been a no-brainer. It seemed like a win-win situation—Avery would get to spend the day as a baby extra on a movie shoot; Sharon would receive a thousand dollars for letting him go.

  Not bad for a day’s work—rather, a day off, lounging around the Camerons’ apartment watching the soaps.

  The only hitch: Sharon couldn’t tell a soul. Not even Avery’s parents.

  That was fine with her. She had a feeling Molly and Andrew Cameron wouldn’t approve. And it wasn’t as if they’d ever find out. Their son would be onscreen for only a few seconds, Sharon was told. Plus, he looks like a thousand other babies. What were the chances that Molly and Andrew would even see that movie or recognize him?

  Anyway, Molly was away on business, and Andrew was never home during his son’s waking hours on week-days. Sharon was promised that Avery would be safely delivered back home again by five-thirty—and he was. No harm, no foul.

  A few hours later, though, he fussed as she undressed him for his bath. That was when she saw the sunburn. He screamed bloody murder when she put him into the tub, and the water wasn’t even that hot.

  By the time Mr. Cameron came home, the baby had cried himself to sleep. His father didn’t bother to look in on him. He never does.

  Sharon tried to reach her cousin that night, to tell her what had happened and ask her what to do. But she didn’t pick up her phone, and she didn’t call back last night or today, and that isn’t like her.

  Sharon has no idea where Beverly is, but she has a bad feeling.

  “Sadie… Sadie!”

  She opens her eyes.

  Or does she?

  All she can see is pitch black.

  She blinks, and it’s the same. But then she turns her head, and there’s a sliver of light.

  “Sadie, wake up.” Lucy’s voice is hushed.

  “Is she okay?” Sadie hears Ryan ask.

  And then it all comes rushing back to her.

  That scary woman at the front door…

  The way she threatened them, and herded them all to the car…

  And then the gun went off outside, and Sadie knew she had shot someone, and she prayed it wasn’t Mommy…

  But Ryan told her that it wasn’t. It was some man, sneaking around the back of the property, maybe another bad guy…

  Then the car ride, and being locked in this tiny room in the dark…

  “Sadie?”

  “I’m awake,” she tells Lucy.

  “We need you, Sades.” Ryan sounds hoarse. “We got this board loose enough to make an opening. But you’re the only one who’s going to fit through it.”

  “I’m scared.”

  “It’ll be okay,” he tells her.

  “I don’t want to go alone!”

  Lucy says, “Ryan, maybe—”

  “Sadie, listen to me. You have to do this. Please. No one else can save us. If you don’t go for help, we’re going to die.”

  Sadie swallows hard.

  Then she nods and says, in a small voice, “I’ll do it.”

  Staring into Lauren Walsh’s terrified eyes, Beverly knows the time has come to make up for her own past shortcomings.

  This time, unlike last, she’ll follow through on what Garvey asked her to do.

  This time, there’s no way around it. Not like before.

  Fourteen years ago, Beverly had honestly believed she would do anything for Garvey. Anything at all.

  She had boldly abducted a little boy from his own suburban backyard. She had traveled overseas with him under false identification. She had gone along with Garvey’s scheme, pretending to be Jeremy’s mother at the foreign hospital, assuring him he was going to be just fine when, sobbing in terror, he was wheeled into surgery.

  She had done it all for Garvey, because she loved him, had loved him from the moment they met. It was a bitter cliché—the dashing, married politician and the naïve campaign aide. Stories like theirs had been played out in bedrooms and headlines all over the world.

  He was a family man; he told her he’d never leave his wife.

  “But I’ll be there for you,” he promised Beverly. Because of him, she had a job, a place to live, someone to love.

  She’d had a lousy childhood, a lonely life. Her father abandoned her mother; her mother killed herself. The only person who ever took care of Beverly was her older cousin Joanne. She’s been dead for years, though. Now Beverly looks out for Joanne’s daughter, Sharon, keeping her deathbed promise.

  And Garvey looks out for Beverly. She vowed never to ask more from him than he was willing to give; in return, she would give him anything he wanted.

  Almost anything.

  When the time came to prove her loyalty, she crumbled.

  She couldn’t bring herself to kill the little boy who had been terrified of her at first, and now clung to her hand on the crowded streets of Bombay.

  “All you have to do is triple up on his pain meds tonight,” Garvey told her. “Maybe quadruple, just to be sure. Then tuck him into bed and go straight to the airport. Your flight leaves at eleven. By the time the hotel maid finds him, you’ll be safe in New York. No one there will have any way of tracing you.”

  He’d made sure of that. No one she’d encountered in India knew her real name. She’d never get caught.

  But that wouldn’t change the fact that she’d have killed an innocent child in the process of saving another.

  How could Garvey live with himself?

  How could she?

  That was the first time she’d ever toyed with the idea of taking her own life, as her mother had.

  Mom had put a gun into her mouth and pulled the trigger. Beverly found her, and the note that read simply, Suicide is painless.

  But it didn’t have to be that violent. Maybe she could just swallow a handful of pills along with Jeremy.

  Suicide is painless…

  The idea was much more appealing than killing him and living with her conscience afterward.

  Or not killing him and being abandoned by Garvey as a result. She couldn’t live without Garvey.

  But in the end, she realized there might be an alternative to both those grim scenarios.

  She tucked some money into Jeremy’s pocket and took him for a long walk. With his dark hair and eyes, he blended in with the hordes of children on the teeming streets of Bombay—so many of them orphans or beggars.

  When he turned his head to watch an elephant plod slowly by, Beverly slipped away.

  She caught her flight back to the States. Garvey called her right after she landed.

  “Did you take care of it?”

  She hesitated only briefly. “Yes,” she told him. “I took care of it.”

  Maybe not in the way he’d asked, but for all intents and purposes, Jeremy Cavalon had vanished forever.

  And Beverly still had Garvey in her life.

  Lauren pointedly shifts her eyes to a point just beyond the right shoulder of the woman she knew as Jessica. She focuses hard on the empty doorway behind her, as if someone is standing there.

  She can tell Jessica is unnerved, but she doesn’t turn around. “Now, Lauren, do you want to do this the easy way, or the hard way?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, do you want to tell me what I need to know, or do I have to force it out of you? Because the children aren’t alone. All I have to do is give the word that you refuse to cooperate, and one of them will be shot.”

  A wave of nausea swishes through Lauren’s gut, but she manages to stay strong. She keeps her eyes on the empty doorway.

  “I will,” she says. “I’ll cooperate.”

  Jessica frowns, watching Lauren closely.

  This is it. I have her.


  Still focused on the doorway, Lauren gives a slight nod, as if signaling someone.

  Sure enough, Jessica darts a glance over her shoulder.

  In one swift movement Lauren lunges for the floor, snatches a large, dagger-shaped shard of glass, and plunges it into the woman’s right arm—the one holding the gun.

  With a howl, Jessica drops the weapon. Lauren grabs it and scrambles backward across the floor with it, slicing her bare legs on the broken glass.

  Aiming the gun in both outstretched hands, Lauren sees that the woman’s right arm is bleeding badly. Clutching it with her left hand, blood pouring over her fingers, she looks up at Lauren in fury.

  “Tell me where my children are, or I’ll kill you.” Lauren fights to keep the gun steady in her hands.

  “No, you won’t,” Jessica says calmly. “You can’t. Because without me, you’ll never find them.”

  Lauren wants to cry out in frustration. She’s right. There’s no way Lauren is going to pull the trigger now.

  But…there might just be another way to get control of the situation.

  “How do I even know they’re still alive?” she asks.

  “You don’t. But they are. And you’ll see them again when you give me the stuffed animal.”

  Lauren weighs her options.

  It’s a huge gamble.

  Yes, and it might pay off.

  But if it doesn’t…

  What choice do you have?

  “I can’t give it to you, Jessica. I wish I could…but I can’t.”

  “You mean you won’t and you’re a fool.”

  “No, I mean I can’t…because I already gave it to the police.”

  Jessica doesn’t utter a word, but she pales.

  Now who’s the fool?

  It’s working. Lauren can sense the wheels turning.

  “Come on,” she says, “did you think I was stupid enough not to realize what I had in my possession?”

  “But how…?”

  Careful, Lauren. Don’t let on. Careful what you say.

  “Seriously…who’s going to kill anyone over a plain old stuffed animal? I knew there was something more to it. I figured it out, and I turned it over to the police. They know.”

  It’s working. She can see the stark fear in those odd yellow eyes.

  “They know everything, Jessica. Right now, they’re surrounding the house. They can hear us. Any second now, they’re going to storm in here and arrest you.”

  “Nooooooo!” Jessica lunges for her, grabs for the gun.

  They tumble to the floor, rolling over broken glass.

  Lauren struggles to hang on to the weapon, but the woman wrestles it away. She heaves herself to her feet and stands over Lauren, breathing hard.

  And Lauren watches in horror as she takes aim and pulls the trigger.

  A splinter rips into Sadie’s hand as she pulls herself through the narrow crack created by the loose board, and she cries out in pain.

  “What happened?”

  “Are you all right?”

  Hearing her brother and sister calling to her from the other side of the wall, Sadie longs to go back to them. But she can’t. Not now.

  “I’m okay,” she tells them, and gets to her feet.

  She looks around. She’s standing in front of a small wooden storage shed, and it appears to be entirely surrounded by trees and brush.

  “What do you see, Sades?” Ryan asks.

  “The woods. That’s it. We’re in the middle of the woods.”

  “Is there a road or something?”

  “No,” she tells Lucy. Then—“Wait, maybe.”

  Not a road…a path. And a faint one at that, overgrown with vines and grass. It disappears into the shadows among the trees.

  But it looks like the only way out. Sadie has no choice but to take it.

  Shaken, Lauren greets the police officers at the door. They’d arrived almost immediately; she had dialed 911 moments after Jessica put the gun into her mouth and killed herself just minutes ago.

  “Ma’am, are you all right? We have a report of—”

  “She’s in there!” Lauren points toward the kitchen, fighting to keep the hysteria out of her voice. “I don’t know who she is. She took my children. And—oh my God, Sam. There’s a body out in my backyard. Please…”

  With dizzying speed, the scene transforms. Suddenly, there are uniforms swarming everywhere, squawking radios, yellow tape. Through it all, Lauren struggles to remain coherent.

  An ambulance wails up. She learns that Sam was indeed shot, but he’s clinging to life.

  “Is he going to make it?” Lauren asks in dread.

  “Hard to tell. We need to get him stabilized.”

  A detective wants a statement, searching for a motive.

  “Did she ask for ransom?”

  “No…a toy. A pink stuffed dog that belonged to my daughter,” she tells him, dazed. “My ex-husband mistakenly picked it up from the lost and found in Grand Central, and—”

  Her throat closes as she remembers. Nick. Beth.

  “She killed them, too. Oh God, my children…please, you have to find my children.”

  “Ma’am, we’ll do everything we can. Do you have any idea where this toy is?”

  “Yes.” Her head snaps up. “I think I know.”

  She’s already on her feet, heading for the stairs.

  Having followed the path until it came to an end at a narrow, tree-lined dirt lane, Sadie isn’t sure where to turn.

  Either way, the road winds its way into deep, dark woods.

  In one direction are only muddy ruts.

  In the other, fresh tire marks.

  The crazy lady must have driven away in that direction. If Sadie follows the tire marks, they’ll lead right to her.

  Sadie shudders.

  I never want to see her again.

  Mind made up, she turns in the opposite direction.

  Trailed by the detective and a uniformed officer, Lauren makes her way to Sadie’s room.

  Sure enough, the shelves, bed, tabletop, and dresser are far less cluttered than usual. There’s no sign of the Dora pillow, the Barbie dolls…or the dog.

  Lauren walks over to the closet and opens the door.

  Her heart is pounding.

  “Do you have a flashlight?” she asks the men, and one is quickly produced for her.

  She crouches and shines the beam along the wall at the back of the closet, beyond the hanging clothes. Her fingertips find the hidden latch on what looks like a panel of molding.

  It’s actually a door, built into the house more than a century ago.

  Opening it, Lauren shines the light inside the secret cubby.

  There, sure enough, is the Dora pillow. She pulls it out.

  A couple of Barbie dolls tumble to the floor.

  “Oh, Sadie. Oh, my little girl.”

  “Steady there, Mrs. Walsh.” The detective lays a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”

  Okay? Is she okay? Her children are missing, their father has been murdered, her friend is clinging to life, and a woman blew her brains out before Lauren’s eyes.

  Lauren doesn’t bother to speak. There’s nothing to say.

  She sniffles, wipes the stream of tears from her eyes, and again directs the flashlight’s beam into the space behind the closet wall.

  This time, she sees it.

  Pink fur.

  “Congressman Quinn?”

  About to step into his limousine after Marin, Garvey turns to see a stranger in a dark suit coat.

  The man flashes a badge.

  More security. Good. Garvey can use it. The street is filled with press, and cops, and stem cell research supporters, chanting wildly and waving signs of protest.

  But this security guard isn’t looking at the crowd; he’s looking at Garvey. And his eyes are cold.

  “I need you to come with me, Congressman.”

  Garvey stares at him. And in that instant, he knows.

  It
’s all over.

  “What’s going on?” Marin asks from inside the car. “Garvey?”

  He can’t bring himself to look back at her as the detective leads him away.

  It’s been over an hour since the police back in Glenhaven Park examined the stuffed toy and found a memory stick hidden in the stuffing.

  On it was evidence of some sort of scandal involving Congressman Garvey Quinn. The woman who lay dead on Lauren’s kitchen floor was Beverly Madsen, a longtime campaign aide of Quinn’s.

  The congressman was questioned and claimed not to know where the children are, but guessed that Madsen might have taken them to a place called Greymeadow. Beverly Madsen once resided in the guesthouse of his family’s long-unused country estate, about twenty miles north of Glenhaven Park.

  That’s as much as Lauren was told before she was hustled into a police cruiser that now barrels up the Taconic Parkway, sirens wailing.

  She doesn’t really care about the rest of the details surrounding the case, as long as her children are safe.

  Please, she prays as the car slows. Gray stone pillars mark a rutted, tree-shaded country lane, and there’s an enormous wrought-iron gate with elaborate grillwork etched with the word “GREYMEADOW.”

  Please let them be alive…

  Sitting shoulder to shoulder with Lucy in the darkness, Ryan thinks bleakly about all the things he never got to do.

  The fishing trip…

  A Yankee game…

  Xbox with Ian…

  A double summersault off the high dive…

  A sound reaches his ears.

  He frowns, listening.

  It’s the distant hum of a helicopter.

  “Lucy?”

  “Yeah,” she whispers. “I hear it.”

  They listen for a long time, and the helicopter fades away.

  But now there are voices. And a dog is barking.

  Someone is out there.

  This is it.

  Either Sadie managed to go for help…

  Or their kidnapper is back and they’re about to die.

  “Lucy! Ryan! Sadie!” a voice calls.

  A male voice. Not hers.

  “Lucy! Ry—”