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Chapters (61)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Contents
  4. Prologue
  5. Part 1 - Thursday
  6. Chapter One
  7. Chapter Two
  8. Chapter Three
  9. Chapter Four
  10. Chapter Five
  11. Chapter Six
  12. Part 2 - Friday
  13. Chapter Seven
  14. Chapter Eight
  15. Chapter Nine
  16. Chapter Ten
  17. Chapter Eleven
  18. Chapter Twelve
  19. Chapter Thirteen
  20. Part 3 - Saturday
  21. Chapter Fourteen
  22. Chapter Fifteen
  23. Chapter Sixteen
  24. Chapter Seventeen
  25. Chapter Eighteen
  26. Chapter Nineteen
  27. Chapter Twenty
  28. Chapter Twenty-One
  29. Chapter Twenty-Two
  30. Chapter Twenty-Three
  31. Chapter Twenty-Four
  32. Part 4 - Sunday
  33. Chapter Twenty-Five
  34. Chapter Twenty-Six
  35. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  36. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  37. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  38. Chapter Thirty
  39. Chapter Thirty-One
  40. Chapter Thirty-Two
  41. Chapter Thirty-Three
  42. Chapter Thirty-Four
  43. Part 5 - Monday
  44. Chapter Thirty-Five
  45. Chapter Thirty-Six
  46. Chapter Thirty-Seven
  47. Chapter Thirty-Eight
  48. Chapter Thirty-Nine
  49. Chapter Forty
  50. Chapter Forty-One
  51. Chapter Forty-Two
  52. Chapter Forty-Three
  53. Chapter Forty-Four
  54. Chapter Forty-Five
  55. Epilogue
  56. Author’s Note and Acknowledgments
  57. Lisa Gardner on D.D. Warren
  58. Excerpt from Love You More
  59. Get an exclusive peek at the script for AMC’s addictive new series, The Killing. Premiering Sunday, April 3 at 9/8c. Only on AMC.
  60. About the Author
  61. Copyright

Lucy finally stirred. She raised her head, blinked her eyes, regarded us owlishly.

Quickly, before she was awake enough to fight, Greg and I tucked her between us and hustled her to the elevators.

I was still thinking of too many things. That it was three days away. That it shouldn’t matter anymore. A date on a calendar, a day that rolled by once a year. And I knew Karen had finally figured out my schedule, why I’d been logging so many hours. Because the date did matter, somehow it always mattered, and in another twenty-four hours or so, I’d have to disappear. I wouldn’t be fit for the kids. I wouldn’t be fit for adults.

And I certainly wouldn’t be fit for a decent guy like Greg, who’d want to hold me and make it all better.

Once a year, I didn’t want it to be all better.

Once a year, I liked honing my rage.

Because I am the lone survivor, and I’m still pissed off about that.

The elevator took us up to the eighth floor. I waved my ID to enter the lobby. Karen was waiting for us, but not alone. A blonde woman with curly hair and a salt-and-pepper-haired man in a charcoal-colored suit stood beside her. Both were holding out police shields.

“Danielle,” Karen began.

And I knew, right at that moment, that it had started again.

Chapter Ten

CHAPTER
TEN

VICTORIA

What does it feel like for a father to leave his child? Does he wake up in the morning remembering his son’s first smile? Maybe the way his baby used to fit in the curve of his arm, solemn blue eyes peering up, rosebud lips pursed thoughtfully?

Does he remember the first time his boy said “Daddy”? Or the way Evan used to run to the door and throw his arms around his father’s legs?

Does he torture himself with the what-ifs, the might-have-beens? The vision he had of one day coaching his son’s soccer team? The dream of attending their first Patriots game together, or maybe cheering for the Celtics at the Garden? Does he consider the gaping hole in his future where the driving lessons, man-to-man talks, and first shave should’ve been?

Does he know that in the days and weeks afterward, Evan fell asleep still crying for the father who never came?

When Michael and I finally brought Evan home from the NICU, we were convinced the worst was behind us. He sat up at three months. Crawled at ten months. The pediatrician was impressed.