Scared to Death by Wendy Corsi Staub

now, he’s still handsome, still has the muscular build of a much younger man, still exudes a roguish charm…
    But those dark eyes of his have seen a lot, and it shows.
    â€œElsa…” He stands to hug her. He smells familiar, of cologne and coffee, and she’s swept by an unexpected wave of emotion. All those years, sitting here across from Mike, begging him to find her son…
    And that’s what he did.
    Elsa swallows hard.
    â€œGood to see you again, Brett.”
    â€œYou too.” Clean-cut Brett shakes Mike’s hand, looking vaguely out of place here in his crisp white shirt, Brooks Brothers suit, and silk tie. “Renny, say hello to Mr. Fantoni.”
    â€œHello.”
    â€œDon’t you look pretty today.”
    â€œYes,” Renny agrees demurely, hands buried in the pockets of her orange plaid shorts. “Do you know if they have pink ice cream here?”
    Mike looks amused. “What flavor would that be? Bubble gum? Strawberry?”
    â€œUm, it doesn’t really matter,” Renny tells him. “Just so long as it’s pink.”
    â€œI’ll see what I can do.”
    â€œThank you,” she remembers to say, and glances to Elsa for a nod of approval.
    They’ve been working on basic manners from the day Renny came to live with them. She’s come such a long way since then.
    As soon as they settle into the booth, the waitress meanders over to take their order—espressos for Elsa and Brett, raspberry gelato for Renny.
    When it arrives, she spoons it rhythmically into her mouth, her eyes riveted to the small screen of Brett’siPad. Elsa explains the situation to Mike, well aware that Brett is leaving the talking to her.
    â€œSpider-Man.” Mike slowly rubs his five o’clock shadow. “This isn’t something that was ever released to the public…unless either of you brought it up to the press during all the commotion last fall?”
    â€œThat Jeremy was playing with Spider-Man when he disappeared? Never.”
    â€œAnd there was no mention in any of the missing person’s reports…” That isn’t a question. Mike is more familiar with those reports, perhaps, than they are.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWhere’s the other one? The one you found on the grass when he disappeared? Do you still have it?”
    â€œIt’s in the cedar chest in our bedroom,” Brett speaks up at last. “Elsa keeps it there with some of Jeremy’s other things…his blanket, and a couple of his shirts…”
    Elsa keeps it there. Not we keep it there.
    Elsa feels a familiar flicker of resentment. Brett, the father who rolls over and goes right back to sleep.
    â€œAre you sure it’s still there?” Mike is asking—her, not Brett, she notices. He gets it. Of course he does. He’s been around them for years. He knows that they both might have lost a child, but that she’s the one who clings to the memories.
    â€œBecause I’m thinking maybe it’s the same one you found in the parking lot,” Mike goes on, despite her nod. “Maybe Renny came across it and put it into the bag with her toys.”
    â€œNo way. I keep that chest locked. She couldn’t have gotten into it. And anyway, this Spider-Man is different.”
    â€œAre you sure?” Brett asks her. “Spider-Man is Spider-Man.”
    Elsa doesn’t bother to answer. Of course she’s sure.She spent years clinging to the last thing her son ever touched, even slept with it under her pillow. She knows exactly what it looks like: similar enough to the toy she found on the ground today, but certainly not the same.
    â€œA lot of little boys are into superheroes,” Mike points out.
    Elsa bristles. “So you think—”
    Mike cuts in, “I don’t know what to think. I’m just trying to gather information. To the best of your knowledge, are there any pictures of Jeremy holding a