BooksBarbecue
Back Nanny Dearest Save as PDF
Chapters (47)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. Dedication
  4. PROLOGUE
  5. Part One
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. Part Two
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. Part Three
  37. 30
  38. 31
  39. 32
  40. 33
  41. 34
  42. 35
  43. 36
  44. 37
  45. 38
  46. 39
  47. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I’m not deceiving myself. There they are, their blue hue camouflaged well among the Flintstone candy-colored vitamins. And I think of Anneliese, crushing them up a few mornings a week to put in the kids’ breakfast smoothies, chattering away about how they couldn’t stand the taste but that these were the best vitamins for kids on the market right now, unfortunately, so she just had to use them.

She’d never let me do it myself, the grinding into powder, the smoothie-making. She said she was the champ, knew how to mix it in just right so the taste was completely dissolved by the fruit and peanut butter.

The kids, so obedient and low-energy most days. Always ready to nap, to sleep when they were supposed to. Caleb asking Anneliese what was wrong with them, noticing a difference when they first arrived at his apartment for the weekend, almost pleading with her for an answer.

There’s a lurch at the back of my throat, and I’m vomiting into the toilet, yellow gunk from God knows what, since I haven’t eaten today.

I need to get out of here.

I slip one tablet of what I found into my pocket and haphazardly put the rest of the vitamins and the Neosporin back into the cabinet, my lip still bloody, my mouth reeking of bile.

As I leave, the door locking behind me, I don’t look back, that ball of fire growing larger, igniting, into an expanding cannonball of fury. I won’t be back here, I think as the front door of the building slams with a thud, and I’m running down the street, away from it all, away from her.

Part Three

PART THREE

30

February 1997

Ironically, it’s Suzy’s fault when the call finally comes. Annie doesn’t blame Suzy. She’s too young to know what she’s done.

It comes on a Thursday afternoon, around three. Usually, Annie gets to the phone first, tells the Kellers who it is, and then they pick up the line. Mrs. Keller’s breathing has become more labored, so she hasn’t been taking calls as much. But today, she’s expecting a call from her trusts and estates lawyer, so she’s poised by the phone, forcing herself to stay awake while Christine knits solemnly in a chair beside her.

Annie only knows these details afterward, though.

She picks up the phone at the same time as Mrs. Keller, saying, “Keller residence,” at the same moment that Mrs. Keller picks up, without looking at the caller ID, and says, “Hello, Greg?”

“Oh, hi, Mrs. Keller? This is Louisa Sandowski, principal of Windsong.” The older woman’s voice sounds softer than Annie has ever heard it, almost silky.

“I can take it,” Annie hears herself say, making her presence known on the line.