Perfect Nightmare

Chapter Thirty-nine

Ellen Fine pulled her sweater across her shoulders and looked at her watch for at least the millionth time. Finally, blessedly, it was four o’clock.

The open house was over and at last she and Emily could go home. Rick Mancuso, whose appearance right after lunch to set up the open house had served only to remind Ellen of the strange feeling she had when he was watching Emily the day he’d taken the listing, would be long gone, which was fine with her. She’d almost changed her mind about even listing the house with him, but when he showed up with his signs precisely when he said he would, she decided she was just being paranoid.

The man was a real-estate agent, not a child molester, and she had to stop seeing monsters lurking inside every man she ran into.

Still, she’d been glad to escape to the park with Emily, and for the first half hour it wasn’t too bad. But then the sky began clouding over, and she started worrying about rain and the fact that she hadn’t brought raincoats.

As it turned out, her worries proved groundless: it hadn’t rained and Emily had a perfectly good time wearing herself out. Meanwhile, she’d been so busy watching Emily that she hadn’t managed to read even a single page of the paperback book she brought along, though the afternoon seemed to stretch on forever. Now, as she put the bookmark back exactly where it was when they arrived, she realized this might well be the last time she and Emily would be in this park.

She put her book into her bag and started toward Emily, who was playing on the merry-go-round with several other kids, most of whom appeared to be in the park in the company only of their fathers. And most of the fathers seemed to have as little interest in their children as Emily’s father had in her.

But at least they’re here, Ellen chided herself. At least they didn’t just take off and vanish like— She cut the thought off, not wanting to get bogged down yet again in her fury toward Danny Golden. Danny Golden, indeed! Danny Anything-But-Golden was more like it! “Emily!” she called, putting Danny out of her mind once more as she pulled her sweater tight against the chilly breeze that had suddenly sprung up. “Let’s go.”

Emily leaped off the moving carousel, stumbled dizzily for a couple of steps, then ran toward her, flush-faced, excited and giggling. But not even Emily’s happy chatter could lift Ellen’s spirits as they walked home together.

The For Sale sign still stood on the front lawn, but all the Open House signs were gone, and the house was as dark and quiet as Ellen had hoped it would be.

Clearly, the agent who had given her the creeps was gone.

“Go jump in the tub,” Ellen said as she unlocked the front door. “I’ll fix us some dinner.”

Emily ran upstairs, and Ellen’s eyes roamed around the living room. Nowhere could she see any sign that anyone had been here at all. Did that mean nobody had showed up for the open house? The thought gave her a sinking feeling, for once she’d made up her mind to leave not only the house but the area as well, she wanted it to sell quickly.

Still, she knew she was going to miss this little house. She and Emily had been happy here for a long time, and it was the only home Emily had ever known. Oh, get over it, she told herself. It’s too late. We can’t afford it, and there will be plenty of other little houses in the future. And they’ll be a lot more adorable than this one. Putting the moment of sentimentality firmly behind her, she went upstairs to change her clothes.

As she took off her jeans and pulled on a pair of sweatpants, she noticed that the framed photo of herself with Emily at the top of the Empire State Building was no longer on her dresser. All the other photos had already been packed into boxes to be shipped to her parents’ house in Missouri, but she’d deliberately kept that one in its usual place, partly so the house wouldn’t look quite so ready to be abandoned, but mostly because it was her favorite and she liked looking at it every morning when she woke up and every night before she turned off the light.

“Honey?” she called. Emily padded into the bedroom, ready for her bath, wearing only her Power Puff Girls underpants. “Did you borrow the photograph that was here on my dresser?”

Emily shook her head.

“Okay,” Ellen sighed, frowning and deciding the picture must have fallen behind the dresser. “You better go turn off the water in the tub. And don’t forget to wash your hair,” she added as Emily trotted off toward the bathroom.

Ellen waited until she heard the water stop running into the tub before looking behind the dresser.

No photo.

Strange.

She was sure it had been on the dresser this morning. She even remembered winking at Emily’s image as she rummaged in the top drawer for a clean bra.

And she didn’t remember packing it in any of the boxes. But maybe she had — she must have, since the picture was no longer on the dresser.

Not for the first time, Ellen found herself wishing the move were already over. But that wasn’t quite right — if she was going to be completely honest with herself, what she really wished was that it had never started in the first place.

That Danny were still here, and that they were still a family.

Then, from the depths of her memory, her mother’s words came to her. Not the kind who will ever make a good father.

Thank you for sharing, Mother.

But she’d been right. It wasn’t long after Emily was born that Danny took his leather jacket and his gym bag and moved in with a girlfriend of whose existence Ellen had been utterly clueless.

Get over it, Ellen.

Hearing splashing and the squeak of Emily’s rubber ducky, which told her all was well in the bathroom, she turned her attention to dinner. Putting the missing picture out of her mind, she headed downstairs to the kitchen, where almost everything had already been packed away. But she’d left two glasses, two plates, two knives, two forks, one small pan, and her paring knife.

The barest of the bare essentials.

Taking the last two potatoes from the refrigerator, along with an onion and the carton of eggs, she decided a meal was possible. Not totally desirable, perhaps, but possible.

She clicked on the television in the living room for the news, started to peel the potatoes, and once more felt her spirits — and her energy — sag as everything in her life once more began to close in on her.

Single mom.

Moving back in with the parents.

Packing.

Leaving.

Failing.

And now cooking two potatoes, an onion, and some eggs for dinner. It was too much.

She closed her eyes for a moment, resting her wrists on the sink. One day at a time, she told herself. One hour at a time, one minute at a time. This, too, shall pass.

Suddenly, the words emanating from the television penetrated her thoughts.

“The search continues for Camden Green High School student Lindsay Marshall,” the newscaster said. Ellen turned to look at the television, where a photo of a pretty blond teenager filled the screen. “Lindsay disappeared almost two weeks ago after an open house…”

After an open house!

Now that wasn’t even safe.

And then the missing picture came back to her.

The picture of Emily!

Ellen rushed out of the kitchen, her heart in her throat. “Emily? Emily!”

No answer.

She ran through the little living room, dodging boxes, and started up the stairs. “Emily!”

And still there was no answer.