Piece of My Heart (Under Suspicion #7) - Mary Higgins Clark Page 0,67

down from upstairs and set up in the living room. It was like the art table Johnny had at home, but it was tilted and had a lip on the bottom edge so the artwork wouldn’t fall off while you worked on it. The man had also given him a big set of colored pencils and a coloring book. It didn’t seem like a normal kids’ coloring book. It was called Historic Buildings of America, but it was better than nothing. As Johnny filled in the grass in front of the Alamo with his green pencil, he let his gaze wander through the living room window. He had yet to see another house within view—not even from the back patio.

“How long have you lived here?” Johnny asked, trying not to sound scared. It was the first time he had ever asked the man a question about himself.

“Depends on what you mean by here, but I’ve been in this house for about three years.”

“What about before that? I’ve only ever lived in one house—until this one, I mean.”

The man became silent, and Johnny wondered if the man could see that Johnny was only pretending to be his friend now. When he finally spoke, the man sounded sad. “I came out here to get a fresh start after I had some problems in my personal life.”

Johnny remembered hearing the man and the woman talk upstairs about some kind of court order and the way the boy was going to change everything. Did it all have something to do with the man’s problems? And why hadn’t Johnny seen the woman yet? Why was she always upstairs?

Johnny had a sudden idea and said, “I had a bad dream last night. I thought I heard a woman’s voice, like maybe it was coming from upstairs.”

Silence again.

When Johnny looked behind him, the man was peering at him with flat eyes. “You certainly are a clever boy.” Johnny couldn’t tell if the man was angry or pleased.

“I—” He didn’t know what to say.

The man’s face relaxed, and he tousled Johnny’s hair once again. “You’ll get more answers in due course. Trust is a two-way street, Danny.”

My name is Johnny, Jonathan Alexander Buckley. My parents are Andrew and Marcy Buckley. My sisters are Chloe and Emily. We live on Massachusetts Avenue in Washington, D.C.

Yesterday, Johnny found himself answering to that stupid name, Danny, without thinking twice about it. He wasn’t going to let the man force him to be someone he wasn’t. Even if it took ten years to escape from this house, Johnny would remember who he was and where he came from.

“Thanks again for the pencils and the coloring book.” He beamed up at the man with an appreciative smile and then added, “And for this cool table. I never had an art table like this one.”

Before Johnny’s mommy was a mommy, she was an actress. Sometimes, she would help Johnny write short plays for him and his sisters to perform when Daddy got home. This is just like a play, Mama. I will act the way I need to, as long as I need to… until I come home.

Chapter 41

That night at seven-thirty, Alex greeted Laurie at the door to his apartment with a gentle kiss on the lips. She picked up the hint of a taste of brine from the dirty martini he was holding.

“Laurie, you really don’t need to knock. That’s why you have a key.” After they got engaged, Alex had made duplicates of her keys and his, along with the keys to their new apartment.

“Old habits.”

Leo had bought tickets to tonight’s Yankee game for him and Timmy, assuming that Laurie and Alex would be on their honeymoon. She had convinced them to attend despite the changed circumstances, promising to call Leo in the event of a breakthrough in Johnny’s case. They were both trying desperately to give Timmy some semblance of a normal life right now.

Alex, knowing she hadn’t been able to eat much all week, convinced her to stop by so they could each make sure the other ate a little something for dinner.

“My apologies for starting without you,” he said, holding up his glass. Usually, they’d both enjoy a pre-dinner cocktail as they caught up on each other’s day, but there was nothing joyful about a drink these days.

“I’m the one who’s sorry for being late. I kept waiting for Summer Carver to call me back, but for all I know, that moment will never come. I guess that’s