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Authors: Kevin O'Brien

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“Hi, Chris, I’m glad I caught you.” She sounded tense. “Listen, did you—did you decide to pick up Erin from school?”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I just came back from the bus stop,” Molly said. “I was going to meet her. But the bus just zoomed on by. I figured maybe you’d picked her up at school.”
“No,” he said numbly. “No, I didn’t.”
“Damn, I was hoping she’d be with you,” Molly said. “I suppose she’s still angry at me. Did she say anything to you? Maybe she went home with a friend. . . .”
“She didn’t mention it to me.”
“Okay, well, then I—I’ll call the school,” she said in a shaky voice.
Chris felt a pang of dread in his gut. “Let me know as soon as you hear anything,”
“I will. Listen, Chris, I’d feel a lot better if you were here. Come home as soon as you can, okay?”
“I might be a while,” he said. “I’m way down in Kent.”
“What are you doing there?”
“I was looking for Mrs. Corson,” he admitted.
There was a silence on the other end for a few seconds. “Why are you looking for her?” Molly asked finally.
“You know why, Molly. I think you’ve been right all along. I’ll be home soon, okay?”
“Good,” she said. Then she hung up.
C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-EIGHT
“She was wearing a navy-blue jumper with a pink long-sleeved turtleneck,” Molly said into the phone.
She stood at Jeff’s desk, looking out the window at the street. She kept hoping someone would come by and drop off Erin—or maybe Rachel would return. But Molly hadn’t seen a single car drive by since she’d come home. All the other houses on the cul-de-sac were empty. It was 4:25 and getting dark out.
Erin should have been on that bus forty minutes ago. Since then, Molly had called Chris and the moms of several of Erin’s friends to make sure she hadn’t gone home with someone else. Erin had hugged her good-bye this morning, but that had been the first and only sign in a few days that her stepdaughter didn’t absolutely loathe her.
Now, Molly wondered if Erin didn’t have a damn good reason for hating her—and for running away this afternoon. Perhaps Erin had been unjustly accused of destroying her painting and that shelf full of elephants.
Erin would have had to use a stool, chair, or stepladder to reach that putty knife on the second to top shelf of the cabinet. And if she’d used something to boost herself up to that shelf, why would she bother putting it back exactly where it had been? The putty knife had been left on the floor, and the tube of paint had been left out with the cap off. Why move the chair, stool, or stepladder back where it belonged?
Yet Molly had found yellow paint smears in Erin’s room and on her clothes. Had somebody set her up? Chris wouldn’t have framed his kid sister and let her take the heat for something he’d done. It just didn’t make sense. But the only other people in the house had been Rachel and Trish.
If Erin had indeed been innocent of the sabotage, then who could blame her for wanting to run away from home—and her crazy, wicked stepmother? Maybe she was sulking in a playground somewhere between the school and here. Molly couldn’t help feeling conflicted about phoning the school and possibly sending out an Amber Alert.
But Jenna Corson was out there, and in all probability, she’d killed Erin’s parents. From Molly’s brief conversation with Chris, it seemed he’d figured that out, too—on his own.
So what was to keep Jenna Corson from abducting Erin and possibly murdering her?
“She was wearing white kneesocks and Keds saddle shoes,” Molly told the school secretary on the phone. She paced within the small confines of Jeff’s study. “And—and she had her hair down. She has blond hair. . . .”
“Yes, blond hair, we have that here from the description you gave us,” the woman said. “I’m putting you on hold for just a minute, Mrs. Dennehy, okay?”
Molly didn’t get a chance to respond before she heard a click on the other end. It sounded more like she’d been disconnected than put on hold, but she stayed on the line anyway. Biting her lip, she glanced out the window again.
The two streetlights on Willow Tree Court had gone on. It was officially dark out. If Erin had indeed run away, she would have headed home by now.
“Mrs. Dennehy?” It wasn’t the secretary’s voice. “Hi, this is Shauna Farrell, the vice principal. Your neighbor picked up Erin when the children were getting out of school. She said you asked her to take care of Erin this afternoon.”
“What?” Molly said, panic stricken. All she could think of was Natalie driving off with Erin. “I—I did no such thing. How could you just . . .” She paused and took a deep breath. “Did you see my neighbor’s car? Was it a blue Mini Cooper?”
“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t see the car, Mrs. Dennehy,” the woman answered. “But I figured it was all right, because Erin called her Aunt Rachel, and she was holding her hand.”
“It was Rachel?” Molly asked. She could feel her heart still pounding.
“Yes, your neighbor, Rachel Cross,” the vice principal said. “She is your neighbor, isn’t she?”
“Yes,” Molly replied, still not certain what to think. She glanced out the window at Rachel’s house and the bare driveway. In her message, Rachel had said she would be back by 3:45, and that had been almost an hour ago.
“Mrs. Dennehy, are you still there?”
“Ah, yes. Rachel told you that I’d asked her to look after Erin today?”
“That’s right. She said you must have forgotten to call the school. Erin seemed very happy to see her. In fact, she broke away from the other children and ran over to her. . . .”
Molly figured Erin would never do that with Natalie. She barely knew the Nguyens’ uninvited houseguest. It must have been Rachel. But it didn’t make sense. Molly hadn’t asked her to look after Erin this afternoon. Or had she? Sometimes lately, she thought she might be losing her mind.
“Mrs. Dennehy, here at the school, we’re always very careful to look out for the children’s safety,” the woman said.
“Yes, of course,” Molly murmured. “There must have been some miscommunication. I’ll call Rachel right now. Will somebody be there in case I need to get in touch with you?”
“Yes, I’ll be here for the next hour. In fact, I’d appreciate it if you got back to me, and let me know that everything’s all right. And I’m sure it will be, Mrs. Dennehy.”
“Thank you,” Molly said.
As soon as she clicked off with the school, she called Rachel’s cell and anxiously counted the rings. She winced when the voice mail greeting came on. “Hi, Rachel,” she said, after the beep. “It’s Molly, and I’m wondering where you are. Erin wasn’t on the school bus. I just got off the phone with the school. They said you came and picked her up. To tell you the truth, I’m kind of confused. You should have said something. Anyway, call me as soon as you can.”
Molly hung up, and then she glanced out the window again. Nothing. On her way to the kitchen, she turned on the front outside lights and the hallway light. She played back Rachel’s earlier message on the answering machine:
“Don’t panic when you see my car isn’t in the driveway. You asked me to make sure if Natalie comes back that she doesn’t leave again. And I’ve done that. But I really need to go to the store. I know you’ll be home soon, because Erin’s bus drops her off at a quarter to four. I’ll be back before then, okay? I really don’t think you’re going to see Natalie again. But you’ll see me—very soon. . . .”
Not once did Rachel mention that she was going to pick up Erin. If she’d impulsively decided to do that, why wouldn’t she call her and let her know? Rachel didn’t quite sound like herself in the message. What was so important at the store that she couldn’t have stuck around here for another half hour? Obviously, she hadn’t gone to the store. She’d gone to Erin’s school.
Molly suddenly imagined Jenna/Natalie holding a gun to Rachel’s head while she’d left that message. Had she been waiting in Rachel’s car—with a gun aimed at her—while Rachel picked up Erin for her? The vice principal hadn’t seen the car, so she wouldn’t have noticed another woman waiting in there. That crazy, raspy-voiced woman on the phone had warned Rachel that she would be sorry she’d moved onto the block.
Molly couldn’t help picturing Rachel lying dead in a ditch somewhere, while Jenna/Natalie drove off with Erin.
She heard a car.
Molly ran to the front of the house and flung open the door. She saw Rachel’s Honda Accord pull into the driveway next door. But it looked like Rachel was alone in the car. Molly’s heart sank. She moved toward Rachel’s driveway.
Rachel climbed out of the front seat. “I just listened to your message at the stoplight on Gleason Street,” she said hurriedly. “You can relax. Erin’s fine, but I’m not.” She pointed to her own house. “I need to hit the bathroom. I’m peeing for two now. Go back inside and wait for me. I’ll be right over.”
“But where’s Erin?” Molly asked.
With her keys in her hand, Rachel hurried to her front door. “Molly, she’s fine. She’s happy. Go back inside before you catch your death out here. I’ll be over in five minutes to explain everything.”
Molly watched her unlock the door, open it, and duck inside the house. She felt the chill, and rubbed her arms. Rachel had just said Erin was fine. She’d said it twice. But Molly was still worried. She stood there another few moments, and then retreated inside the house. She left the door open a crack, went back to Jeff’s study, and stared out the window.
“Damn it,” she whispered, after waiting nearly five more minutes. She thought about calling the school to tell them Erin was okay, but first she wanted to hear what Rachel had to say. Frowning, Molly glanced at her watch. It was almost 5:15, and dark as midnight out. She couldn’t believe Rachel had picked up Erin without telling her.
Finally, she heard Rachel’s door open and shut. She saw her neighbor cut across the driveways to the front of the house. She’d changed into a loose-fitting, dark, poncho-type of sweatshirt with big pockets in front. She already looked very pregnant. Molly came around and met her in the doorway.
“Sorry to leave you hanging,” Rachel muttered, stepping inside. “My system’s all out of whack, because of the baby. I know you’re upset about Erin. I couldn’t call you. Do you have a Sprite or ginger ale or something carbonated to help my heartburn?”
Molly closed the door after her, and then led the way to the kitchen. “I’ve been climbing the walls with worry for the last ninety minutes, Rachel,” she said edgily. “I thought for sure Natalie-Jenna-Whatever-Her-Name-Is had abducted Erin. In fact, I called the school. I was ready to call the police. What the hell happened? I can’t believe you picked up Erin at school without telling me. You just left me hanging. . . .”
“Mea culpa, mea culpa,” Rachel said with a sigh. “You’re not going to like it any better when I explain what happened.”
Molly dug a can of 7UP out of the refrigerator and wordlessly handed it to her.
Rachel opened the can and sipped her soda.
“I’m waiting,” Molly said, crossing her arms.
Rachel frowned. “Well, Erin called me from school. Apparently one of her little friends actually has a cell phone. I didn’t even know Erin had my number. Did you give it to her?”
Molly shook her head.
“Well, she knows it, because she called me and asked me to pick her up after school. She said she didn’t want to come home. . . .” Rachel paused, and then sipped her 7UP again. She glanced down at the kitchen floor. “Erin said it didn’t feel right at home anymore, because her real parents weren’t here. She said she didn’t want to see you or be around you. I’m sorry, Molly. There’s no way to sugarcoat that.”
Molly felt like she’d just been kicked in the stomach. She told herself those were the sentiments of an upset and confused six-year-old. But it still hurt. She walked around the kitchen counter and sat down at the breakfast table. “Where is she?”
“You might not like this, either,” Rachel warned. “Lynette’s sister, who lives near the UW Hospital, is looking after Lynette’s kids. Erin’s with them. I dropped her off. I figured after an hour with Carson and Dakota Hahn, you and home will start looking pretty good to her.”
Molly knew she was expected to laugh, but she couldn’t.
“I tried calling you as soon as I dropped Erin off,” Rachel said. “But my cell phone started acting up on me. I couldn’t call out, but I got your message all right. Modern technology, you go figure. Anyway, please don’t be mad at me, Molly. Erin made me promise I wouldn’t tell you, and this is the first time she’s asked me for something. I didn’t want her to think she couldn’t trust me.”
Molly frowned at her. “Well, I’m not sure
I
can trust you. On top of that, you made me look like a major idiot with the vice principal at Erin’s school. You told her that I must have
forgotten
to call the school about you picking up Erin. And there I was on the phone with them asking which neighbor picked up my stepdaughter. God, I must have come off as a total flake. What were you thinking?”
“I’m really sorry,” Rachel murmured, shrugging. “I guess I shouldn’t have gotten involved. Maybe—maybe you ought to call the school, and tell them everything’s okay.”
Molly stood up. “Yes, we don’t want to worry the people at Erin’s school,” she grumbled. “God, with everything that’s been going on lately, I can’t believe you’d . . .” She shook her head and left the room. She reminded herself that Rachel had been a good friend to her. Without Rachel, she never would have made it through the last week.
In Jeff’s study, she picked up the phone and hesitated before dialing the school. “I’m done venting!” she announced loudly. “I know you were just trying to do Erin and me a favor. You meant well. . . .”
“I figured you couldn’t be mad at me too long,” Rachel called. Molly could hear her filling a glass with ice. “You need my help breaking into the Nguyens’ house tonight.”
Molly frowned at Rachel’s light tone. It didn’t seem right. She wanted to get inside that house to look for clues to her husband’s murder—and the deaths of several others. Rachel made it sound as if they were planning to pull off some kind of high school prank.
Of course, Molly still felt confused and a bit stung by what went on with Erin. It was hard getting past that.
She phoned the school and got Vice Principal Farrell on the line. She explained that Erin was fine, and it was just a misunderstanding. “I’d asked my neighbor to pick up Erin
next
Wednesday, not today,” she said, making Rachel the flaky one.

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