inside as if to remove a bag of groceries or something.
Something? No. It was someone .
Jeremy froze.
A child.
Elsaâ Jeremyâs mother âwas holding the little girlâshand, just the way she used to hold his. She bent over and planted a kiss on the little girlâs hair, just the way she used to kiss Jeremy.
He knew, then, that it could never be the same; knew that he could never, ever go home again.
Someone had taken his place.
CHAPTER FIVE
C aroline canât sleep.
Thatâs not unusualânot since her father left, anyway.
Left?
Oh please, Daddy was ripped from their lives without warning. He might as well have been gunned down in the street that dayâin fact, maybe that would have been better. An assassination, or an innocent victim of a drive-by shootingâ¦
An image of her father lying on the sidewalk, bleeding all over his Italian wool suit, flutters through Carolineâs head. She wonât let it roost there; she doesnât wish Daddy were dead. Of course not. She loves him more than anything, and she knows heâll be back one day.
Itâs justâ¦
Right now, itâs hard. On her. If he were dead, heâd be a hero. People would have pity for her, instead of contempt. Neighbors in the elevator, kids at school, strangers on the streetâeven now that the press coverage has died down and the photographers no longer stake out their building, Caroline can sense people watching her, recognizing her, whispering about her.
Thatâs why sheâs starting to think that what happened todayâwith the ratâwas no accident. That it didnât just crawl into her bag. Maybe someone put it there, a cruel prank, because sheâs Garvey Quinnâs daughter.
The coffeehouse was crowded, so many people jostling past her table, walkingâor sittingâwithin armâs reach of her purse. Anyone could have unzipped the bag as it hung on the back of the chair, dropped the disgusting creature inside, and zipped it up again.
Anyone?
Well, anyone with a seriously warped mind.
Not that cute guy, thoughâJake. Caroline is pretty sure it wasnât him.
For one thing, heâs not from here; he doesnât even know who she isâ¦
Or so he said. How do you know itâs true?
She tries to ignore the nagging little voice in her head. Why would he lie?
She remembers reaching into her bag a few times before he got there, to check for her iPod. There was no ratâ¦not until after he arrived.
But that doesnât mean it was him. And it doesnât mean the whole place isnât infested with rodents, and one didnât happen to crawl into her purse.
Yeahâ¦one that managed to work the zipper with its paw?
She has other things to worry about right now, though. Like dying from rat bite fever.
No wonder she canât sleep.
Someone knocks on Carolineâs bedroom door.
Daddy! she thinks for an exhilarating moment. Then she remembers, and the fragile shimmer of hope shatters like crystal on granite.
In the old days, heâd come home late and check to see if she was still awake. Heâd come into the room and tickle her toes, always hanging out at the bottom of themattress. They both sleep that wayânot wanting to be confined like mummies by tightly tucked sheets.
Sometimes, sheâd get up and sit in the kitchen with Daddy while he ate a sandwich or sipped a cup of tea. Mom never joined them, and Annie was always asleepâor perhaps just uninvited.
It was no secret to anyone that Dad loved Caroline best.
She cherished those late night encounters.
Another knock, louder this time. She checks the digital clock, irritated at the interruption to her thoughts, if not her sleep.
Then againâ¦only nine-thirty? Why does it feel like the middle of the night?
âCaroline?â Mom calls through her door. âAre you awake?â
âNo.â
The door opens. âVery funny.â
The light from the hallway
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