One More Day Read Online Free PDF

you, if you’re in danger? We have to call him now. I need to get off the phone. We—”
    â€œNo!”
    Ben looked up for a second. The word he hated. The word Carrie had thought back to a thousand times, wishing she could erase it and restring her memories with yeses. Give him anything he wanted if she just had the chance. There was no malice in his eyes, just slight recognition. Then he went back to slurping the last dregs of chocolate, running the straw around the bottom of the glass, searching for more.
    â€œListen to him, John,” she cried. “Can you hear him slurping?” She brought the phone closer to Ben. “Do you want a quick photo? Should we FaceTime? I—”
    â€œCarrie, stop! I have to call Nolan!”
    â€œJohn, no! You have to see him first,” she said. “Promise me you’ll come home first.”
    â€œWhy, honey? Why?”
    â€œBecause he’s exactly the same,” she whispered.
    â€œWell, of course he is.”
    â€œNo, I mean, he’s not any older.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œHe’s not three. He’s still two.”
    â€œHoney, that’s just a trick of the imagination. You just don’t remember how bi—”
    â€œI remember! I remember everything!”
    â€œOr…he’s been…confined, maybe. Underfed.”
    His voice didn’t catch when he said those words. How could that be? she thought. How could that possibly be? The thought of it, the images—they tore at her. But she’d lifted Ben’s shirt. She’d seen. He wasn’t scrawny, ill-cared for. He was simply too small.
    â€œNo. He hasn’t aged, John. It’s like he’s been…preserved.”
    â€œ Preserved? ”
    She heard so much in John’s intonation, in his pause. His mind, his logical mind, the gears almost musically obvious when they were turning.
    She took the phone into the living room.
    â€œYes, John,” she whispered. “Like he’s not…really ali—”
    â€œCarrie, listen to me. We should call Dr. Kenney right away, right now, then Nolan before—”
    â€œNo! No!” Half screaming, ramping up. She knew how to get his attention, how to make him listen. His fear of her breakdown was greater than his need to be right, to do right.
    â€œHow about Libby then? I’ll call Libby and—”
    â€œIf you call anyone, I swear to you, John, I—”
    â€œOkay, okay,” he said. “Lock the doors.”
    John excused himself from his clients, saying he had an emergency at home. Oh, the looks on their faces. How many emergencies could one man have before they stopped feeling sorry for him and started wondering about him? No, these were good people. One of the women had patted his arm almost tenderly as he left.
    As John raced home, he went through all the options: Whether his son was really in his house. Whether the crime was about to be solved. Whether his wife was losing her mind. And, yes, guiltily, whether the promotion to regional manager that he was up for would be affected by any of these possibilities. He was competitive, he’d cop to that, but he ordinarily wouldn’t be so jaded and cold. It was only because the other top salesperson in the area, Lara, had told Justin at the convention in Atlantic City last month that John had gotten the “pity vote.” She’d said this half drunk at the hotel bar, and John, who only had an occasional drink, had filed the information away.
    At home, Carrie’s thought process was narrower. It wasn’t until she got off the phone that it hit her: John knew Libby’s number? How on earth did he even know her fellow volunteer’s last name?

• • •
    Ben had been kidnapped on July 12. Carrie had stayed inside her house for the rest of July and the entire month of August. She’d started seeing Dr. Kenney in early September, and later that month, with John’s and