You've Been Warned - James Patterson [70]
I’m about to turn away when I see them stop on the top step and look back. In unison, they wave to me, their smiles curled wide.
I want to cry, and I almost do. But I just wave in return, fighting back the tears.
With them safely inside, the tears come. Then I do one more three sixty, searching for the Ponytail.
Still don’t see him. The bastard. The creep. Is he dead too — like Delmonico?
Out of nowhere, the song is back in my head. I even catch a word, or I think I do — game? “What is that goddamn song?” I mutter as a couple of passersby stare at me.
I wipe my eyes dry, then check my watch while reaching for my cell phone. It’s high time I track down that other disappearing man in my life.
At the very least, Michael’s secretary will be there now to answer my call. And after three rings, she picks up.
“Michael Turnbull’s office.”
“Hi, is he there, please?”
“May I ask who’s calling?”
“This is Kristin Burns. The Turnbulls’ nanny? Is this Amanda?”
“Yes, hi, Kristin,” she says. “I take it you’re not at their home, are you?”
“No, why do you ask?”
“Mr. Turnbull said he tried calling to see if anyone was there. It turns out he left some important papers in his library. I guess he was hoping you or his wife could bring them to him.”
“I could do that. I’m heading back there now. I just dropped off Dakota and Sean at school.”
“I’m afraid he already left to get the papers himself. He needs them for a meeting later this morning. If you’re on your way there, I suppose you might see him.”
Yes! At last, the possibility of a good break. Before Amanda even finishes the sentence, I’ve got my arm raised for a taxi that’s just dropped off some older kids at the school.
Less than ten minutes later, I’m on the elevator heading up to the penthouse. I’m so relieved I might be seeing Michael that I forget how mad he’s made me these past twenty-four hours. All is forgiven, but now we need to talk, seriously talk.
I step into the foyer and right away I hear his voice. A little muffled. I think it’s coming from the kitchen. Who’s Michael talking to?
Chapter 97
I CAN’T EXACTLY make OUT his words as I tiptoe back through the dining room. It’s definitely Michael, though.
I press my ear against the swinging door to the kitchen. There’s something different about his voice, a slight echo. And then I realize who he’s talking to.
The answering machine.
I push through the door into the empty kitchen and spy the blinking red light. Michael is midsentence in the message he’s leaving, and I listen for a moment to what he’s saying. It’s good-bye, that’s what. He’s about to hang up.
“I’ll see you later, then, okay, honey? I love you,” he says. “Love you.”
I dash to the phone, but it’s too late.
Click.
He had to be calling from his cell. Is he still on his way here? I immediately start dialing it when my finger stops. Something doesn’t make sense.
What did he say?
I love you? . . . Love you?
He couldn’t have left the message for me, of course. It had to be for Penley. Is he trying to keep up appearances with her? As cool and clever as Michael can be, I find that hard to believe. He hates her too much right now.
The answering machine continues to blink, practically begging me to play back the entire message. Go ahead, Kris. Satisfy your curiosity.
I hesitate only because I’m not supposed to — listen to messages, that is. One of the first things Penley told me when I started the job was that I “needn’t concern myself with the machine.” Translation: keep your nose out of my business!
So for the past two years, I’ve not once hit the playback button.
Until now.
Screw it, what have I got to lose? My job? One way or the other, I don’t think I’ll be the nanny here for much longer. All the more reason to listen to the message. I don’t like how it ended.
Besides, didn’t Amanda say that Michael had already called earlier? The timing seems strange.
So I hit the button. “You have one new message,” says the automated voice.
“Hi, honey, it’s me,