Free Scared to Death by Wendy Corsi Staub Page B

same, leaving the door open. Wordlessly, she shows him the Spider-Man action figure.
    He stares down at it.
    â€œIs that…?”
    â€œJeremy’s?” Elsa swallows hard. “Maybe. I don’t remember exactly what it looked like—the one that went missing with him—but—”
    Her voice breaks, and Brett pulls her close, his thoughts whirling through the possibilities:
    It might be a colossal coincidence. Maybe it didn’t even fall out of the car. This is a public place. Maybe some little boy lost it…
    Or maybe it was tucked somewhere among the Cavalons’ possessions for all these years and Renny came across it and carried it with her…
    Or maybe Elsa herself found it somewhere, or bought it somewhere, and—and she forgot about it, or she’s delusional, or…
    â€œBrett, say something.”
    â€œDon’t worry,” he says automatically. “It’s going to be okay.”
    â€œYou don’t know that.”
    He opens his mouth to contradict her, but thinks better of it. She’s right. He doesn’t know that. Christ, right now he doesn’t know anything.
    â€œDid you discuss this with anyone?” he asks, releasing her.
    â€œNot yet. I didn’t want to make any calls until I’d talked to you.”
    â€œWe have to report the break-in now…don’t you think?”
    â€œYes.” She pauses. “I mean, I think so.”
    They stare at each other, and Brett is glad Elsa can’t read his mind.
    Just because she had some problems before, years ago—that doesn’t mean she’s unbalanced now. It doesn’t mean she herself is responsible for the Spider-Man doll being here. It doesn’t mean that, fueled byRenny’s nightmare, Elsa imagined the intruder, and there’s a logical explanation for footprint and the broken branch—if they do exist.
    He wants desperately to believe that they don’t, even if it means accepting that his wife is still suffering the psychological fallout of Jeremy’s kidnapping—or that learning of his death triggered a relapse into dissociative behavior.
    Anything is better than believing that Renny is in danger.
    â€œWhat’s Roxanne going to say, Brett? If we call the police and she finds out?”
    â€œShe will find out, and what do you think she’ll say? It’s her job to make sure that Renny’s in a safe environment.”
    â€œThat’s our job, too.”
    â€œAnd we’re doing it.”
    â€œRoxanne might not agree.” She shrugs, hugging herself, her thin arms bared by a simple, butter-colored dress.
    Even now, Brett finds himself marveling at his wife’s striking beauty: black hair and eyes offset her flawless complexion and delicate French features.
    Before Jeremy came, and after he was gone, Brett had convinced himself that he could be happy if it were just the two of them for the rest of their lives. Yes, they longed for parenthood, but they had each other. Maybe that was enough.
    Now he knows that it can’t be; that their lives wouldn’t be complete without Renny. Now that he’s had a true taste of what it’s like to love a child so completely…
    He would never admit to Elsa that it was different with Jeremy. Maybe she knew, deep down, that try as he might, Brett couldn’t quite connect with him, couldn’t quite…
    Love him?
    Even now, acknowledging it only to himself, shame sweeps through him.
    He’d cared for his son, had tried to protect him, had thought he was doing everything in his power to help Jeremy overcome all his problems. Even after what happened that day at Harbor Hills Country Club…
    Brett rarely allows himself to think about that particular incident. But whenever the memory rears its ugly head anyway, he’s swept by the same sense of helpless foreboding he experienced when he saw what his son had done to the sweet, innocent little girl with the big