Perfect Nightmare

Chapter Forty

The bathroom door slammed hard against the wall as Ellen burst in, but she was oblivious not only to the noise, but to the deep gash the doorknob dug into the plasterboard.

The tub was still filled, the rubber ducky still floating.

But her daughter was gone.

A surge of panic rose in her, and for a moment she felt totally paralyzed. Then a scream began to form in her throat, a scream she formed into a word as it emerged from her lips. “Emily!”

Nothing.

As the image of the missing picture of her daughter recurred to her, Ellen wheeled away from the bathroom door and rushed to her daughter’s bedroom. “Emily, where are you?” she cried, and heard the tremble in her own voice. She’s hiding, she told herself. She’s got to be hiding! But a quick glance in Emily’s closet and under her bed only made her panic grow.

No Emily.

Now her mind was churning with all the things that could have happened to Emily, and the thought that Danny — the jerk Danny Golden — had come back to claim his daughter was the least terrifying. Instead her mind was consumed by the missing photograph of Emily and the report she’d seen only minutes ago of a girl disappearing from home after an open house.

Could some kind of maniac have been hiding in the house?

Or even that creepy agent? Once again she recalled Rick Mancuso watching Emily a few days ago.

And she hadn’t even checked the house to make sure everything was all right when she brought Emily home. Instead she’d taken a quick glance at the living room, then let Emily take a bath while she blithely went downstairs to fix supper.

Her fault! Whatever had happened to Emily was all her fault!

Stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Leaving Emily’s room, Ellen dashed into her own, hurling the door open with even more force than she’d applied to the one in the bathroom. “Emily!” she yelled. “Please, God, please! Emily, where are you?” And then the closet door opened and Emily burst out, stark naked.

Stark naked, and giggling. “Surprise!” she said, a huge grin spreading across her face.

Her terror instantly dissolving into relief, Ellen dropped to her knees and gathered the little girl into her arms. “You scared me,” she said, barely managing to muster even the tiniest edge of anger into her voice.

But then the two memories that had set off her panic came back once more. “Get dressed and put on your coat,” she said.

Emily looked confused. “What?”

“Just do it,” Ellen said, trying not to let her own fear infect her daughter.

“Why?”

“Just do what I say, all right?” Hustling Emily into her room, she grabbed the first clothes that came to hand, helped Emily into them, then stuffed her arms through the sleeves of her little pink parka. Her own raincoat was still hanging in the coat closet by the front door.

Picking Emily up, Ellen lurched down the stairs, seized by the necessity to get out of the house.

To get out right now, until someone could check the house and make sure it was secure.

She pulled on her raincoat, grabbed her bag from the hook by the door, then remembered she’d left the stove on.

With Emily heavy on her hip and her bag in the hand that wasn’t supporting her daughter, she made her way through the maze of boxes into the kitchen, fumbled a moment, then managed to turn off the stove. As she turned, her eyes scanned the room…

The knife she had used on the potatoes was no longer on the drainboard.

Fresh panic surged through her.

“Come on,” she said, whirling and running out of the house, pulling Emily after her.

After glancing first one way, then the other, she headed toward Ralph Larson’s house next door. Too late, she noticed that his draperies were closed and remembered that he was going to visit his daughter upstate.

She rang his bell anyway, and pounded on the door.

Sensing her mother’s fear, Emily started to cry.

“Shhh,” Ellen said. “It’s all right.”

“What’s wrong?” Emily sobbed. “I was just trying to fool you, Mommy!” “It’s okay,” Ellen said. “Everything’s okay.” But her quavering voice gave the lie away.

“It’s not.” Emily began to sob, clinging heavily to Ellen’s neck. “Mommy, I’m scared!” “Shhh.” Ellen tried to smooth Emily’s hair, then jabbed at the bell one last time.

No answer.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

Abandoning Ralph Larson’s porch, Ellen cut across his yard to the next house, again pulling Emily along with her. She didn’t know the couple who lived there, but they had always looked nice.

Surely they would help.

They would help if they were home.

Praying silently, she pressed their bell.