You've Been Warned - James Patterson [39]
The key clutched tightly in my hand, I gingerly approach the door and its solid brass lock. Turning my wrist ever so slowly, I try to dull the inevitable snap of the dead bolt. It’s so quiet around me in the hallway. Too quiet. I’m afraid even the slightest noise will wake everyone.
The lock cooperates — barely a sound — and I step inside. I can’t see a thing at first. It’s pitch-black, but I know the apartment so well it wouldn’t matter if I were blindfolded.
This is so insane. What am I doing?
Crossing the foyer, I walk down the long hallway to the bedrooms. Half of me is still pumping with adrenaline, the other half utter fear. It’s like I’m on a tightrope without a net. There’s no excuse for my being here, at least none that anyone else would understand.
I’m steps away from Dakota’s room. I don’t intend to go in, and yet that’s exactly what I do. I feel the need to look at her, to see her sleeping peacefully, and thanks to the glow of a small heart-shaped night-light by her bed, I can. Nestled under her pink covers, she looks so angelic.
I love Dakota and Sean. Who wouldn’t?
Farther down the hallway, I slip into Sean’s room. No such luck with a night-light; he doesn’t like them.
Squinting, I can barely make out his tiny silhouette in the darkness. I edge closer and closer to him when — disaster — I kick something. Legos!
The sound of crashing plastic rips through the room as one of Sean’s fantastic creations splatters against a wall.
He stirs and I freeze, holding my breath, my heart thumping out of control.
“Mommy?” he mutters.
Shit.
What now?
I’m about to panic when it comes to me.
“Yes, honey,” I whisper. “This is just a dream. . . . Go back to sleep now, okay?”
He seems to think it over for a few agonizing seconds. “Okay,” he says finally.
Phew.
I figure if he were really awake he’d recognize my voice. Still, it’s a little too close for comfort.
I should take the hint and escape from the apartment as fast as possible. All I have to do is turn left out of Sean’s room and never look back.
Instead, I turn right and keep going down the hallway.
To Michael and Penley’s room.
Chapter 53
THE DOOR TO MICHAEL and Penley’s bedroom is half closed, and there’s not enough space for me to squeeze inside. Here’s praying for well-oiled hinges.
Slowly I push my way in. No squeak. Instead, just the sound of Michael’s breathing. It’s not quite a snore, more like a low-pitched hum. I recognize it immediately from the few times in which our “sleeping together” actually involved sleeping.
I inch toward them, my footsteps deadened by a huge Persian rug. There’s a scant glow of moonlight filtering in through the curtains. As my eyes adjust, I realize what I’m reminded of.
My darkroom.
I stand at the foot of their king-size bed, staring, feeling nervous. Penley’s on the left, closer to the bathroom. They’re not cuddling, nestling, or spooning — in fact, Michael couldn’t be any farther away from her without rolling off the mattress. Nonetheless, the sight of them sharing a bed immediately irks me.
I know they’re husband and wife, that this is completely normal, even if their marriage isn’t. I simply never thought about it this way. I never see any intimacy between the two of them.
Now here I am looking at them together in bed.
What a weird feeling, so uncomfortable, unsettling. It’s not so much that I’m jealous. It’s more like I’m angry.
I don’t think it’s possible to hate Penley any more than I do right now, and she hasn’t really done anything wrong, has she?
I’m no longer staring at both of them. Just her. I see her bony shoulders jutting out from the puffy duvet, and the turned-up little nose that she wrinkles when something bothers her — which is always. Even asleep she looks like a bitch! Penley could star in Wicked — without makeup.
My eyes drift.
Scattered on the bed are more pillows than two people