by Lisa Gardner
I don’t think a madman could’ve helped those kids, particularly the hypersensitive ones, who would’ve perceived the taint. I think Andrew used to be Andrew. And I think, somewhere in his exploration of the celestial superhighway, he encountered a negative energy beyond his control. He met my father’s corrupt soul, hoping to use him to learn more about his own father. Unfortunately, my father’s spirit used Andrew to hunt me down in order to finish what he’d started twenty-five years ago.
There are things I’ll never know. When carrying me into Evan’s house, Andrew urged me to open my heart, to find the light. Was that the real Andrew pushing through, trying to help me survive? Or did my father simply assume that if he could get me to visit the land of interplanes, he could hurt me, too?
Don’t know.
Is my father back in the abyss, even now waiting for the next corporal existence? I know I saw him that night, his eyes shining from Andrew’s face. And I know I felt my mother, Natalie, Johnny, even Sheriff Wayne. Or maybe I just wanted to feel them. Maybe it was the illusion of seeing them that gave me strength. Then again, I found the gun. Surely that argues for my father’s involvement, or I had a way-lucky guess.
I go back and forth, a thirty-four-year-old skeptic, discovering late in life that some part of her wants to believe.
I feel different these days. I remember my family more often, and with less pain. I’ve lost my mother and siblings, and yet they’re still with me.
Maybe there really are angels? Or maybe I’ve finally completed the five stages of grief?
Don’t know.
What about Andrew? Assuming his soul was hijacked by my father’s, did the end of corporal existence finally set him free? I asked Evan one day. He told me Andrew is an angel, and he talked to him just last night. Evan seemed relaxed about it, so I let it go. Evan’s word is good enough for me.
The state buried Lucy. We took up a collection to pay for the marker. I ordered it shaped in the form of a sleeping cat, though the granite guy thought I was nuts. After her funeral, a giant rainbow appeared on the horizon. Strictly speaking, rainbows are a matter of light hitting water particles. I decided to view it as Lucy’s spirit, granting us one last smile.
Maybe I do know.
I have a date.
He’s handsome, solid, and currently unemployed. Karen fired Greg four weeks ago, saying his violation of unit policy left her no choice. Greg’s thinking of either returning to school to become a psych nurse like me, or establishing a full-time respite-care business. In the meantime, he’s busy assisting various families and soon, of course, he’ll be even busier having sex with me.
I have moments when I’m still angry. I hate how easy it is for a parent to destroy the life of a child. I still see cases that break my heart. And I still make sure I walk way around any sewer grates.
But I get up each morning. And I find myself making the same vow each night.
I’m going to live with more light in my heart. I’m going to continue my work with troubled kids. And I’m going to fall in love with a really good man.
I’m the lone survivor, and this is what I’ve lived to tell.
AUTHOR’S NOTE AND ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
When you hear of a first-grader being expelled for violence, you have a tendency to think of a kid with those parents. You know, the parents who don’t care, aren’t engaged, are perhaps violent themselves. So I was shocked two years ago when the troubled kid wasn’t a stranger, but the son of a good friend. As parents went, she and her husband were caring, resourceful, and involved. And they still felt they were losing the war to save their child.
I’m indebted to this family for sharing their experiences with me. Their sessions with various specialists. Their multiple stays in a locked-down pediatric psych ward. And yes, their interaction with a spiritual healer who they believe has done the most to reach their child. They shared their story in hopes of garnering more understanding for mentally ill children and their often overwhelmed caretakers.
They’d like you to know that not all kids who can’t sit still are brats. Not all kids who refuse to sleep are troublemakers. And not all kids who scream at the top of their lungs are disobedient.
They’re kids. And they’re trying. And so are their parents.
My deepest appreciation to Kathy Regan and her staff at the Child Assessment Unit in Cambridge, Massachusetts. They tirelessly answered my questions, while allowing me to spend time on a real psychiatric ward. I could not have created my fictional psychiatric children’s ward, PECB of the Kirkland Medical Center, without the benefit of learning about their experiences and approaches. While I allowed the fictional PECB to use a progressive approach inspired by CAU’s impressive work, the center itself, its staff, and their actions are purely products of my (highly disturbed) imagination and bear no resemblance to the first-class operation run by Kathy and her staff at CAU.
For anyone who’d like more information on the CAU’s progressive approach, I recommend Opening Our Arms: Helping Troubled Kids Do Well, by Kathy Regan. I also recommend The Explosive Child, by Dr. Ross W. Greene, for a detailed look at the collaborative problem-solving (CPS) approach.
On the more mundane side of research, a happy shout-out to my favorite pharmacist, Margaret Charpentier, who once again helped me pick the perfect poison. It’s been a while since we’ve gotten to collaborate. I think the results are fun, as always.
Kill a Friend, Maim a Buddy: Congratulations to Audi Solis for being chosen as the sixth annual Lucky Stiff. I hope you enjoy your grand end. Sharing the fun across the Atlantic, Jo Rhodes won the Kill a Friend, Maim a Mate. According to Eleane Rhodes, it was the least I could do.
For anyone else who wants in on the action, the next sweepstakes should be up and running by September. Visit www.LisaGardner.com for more info.
Under “Care and Feeding of Authors,” thank you to Michael Carr, whose pen functions more like a scalpel when editing a manuscript. I cried only for a little bit, and the book is better for it. My appreciation to my first readers, Kathleen, Barbara, and Diana, for doing an excellent job, as always, with the page proofs. And finally, the big guns—I couldn’t do this without Meg, Kate, and the support of my entire publishing team. Thank you for making the magic happen.
On the home front, my love to my patient husband and my not very patient but always adorable child.
Finally, this book is in memory of Michael Clemons, a good man, gone too soon. We miss you.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
LISA GARDNER is the New York Times bestselling author of twelve novels, including Live to Tell, The Neighbor, and Say Goodbye. She lives with her husband and daughter in New England. She is currently at work on her next Detective D.D. Warren thriller, which Bantam will publish in 2011.
Live to Tell is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright (c) 2010 by Lisa Gardner, Inc.
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Bantam Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
BANTAM BOOKS and the rooster colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Gardner, Lisa.
Live to tell : a detective D.D. Warren novel / Lisa Gardner.
p. cm.
eISBN: 978-0-553-90769-8
I. Title.
PS3557.A7132L58 2010
813’.54—dc22 2010003473
www.bantamdell.com
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