He leans down, pressing his hand against the desk. His greasy palm leaves a streak on the otherwise pristine glass. I gulp as he reaches for his mouse. He must want to check if I’ve been snooping. Did I lock the screen down? My memory is a blur. If not, we’re both in for a huge surprise. He moves the mouse ever so slightly. His computer monitor sparks to life. Thank God, it brings up the lock screen with the background picture of that mountain. The password field is empty. There’s no evidence I was in there clicking about.
Whew.
David isn’t satisfied. He stands in front of me, assessing me anew. I’m reminded of the many times I’ve felt claustrophobic in his presence—in the kitchen, in the hallway outside the kids’ room—but this is a thousand times worse.
“I don’t want you coming in here ever again, Izzy. Do I make myself clear?” His hard eyes bore into me. “I don’t have much privacy as it is.” He motions to all the glass. “And that’s by choice. I’m really an open book. With me, what you see is what you get.”
What I see is his face scratched out with a black marker.
“There’s a reason I built a third floor just for me, and that’s so I could havesomeprivacy, which you’ve just disregarded.”
He invades my personal space in a tit-for-tat way, leaning in extra close. I’m layered with fear. I think of a dozen ways I’ll fight him off if he attacks. I’ll claw his eyes. Kick him where it hurts. I’ll scream and punch. In my mind, I’m a rabid wolverine, so look out, asshole, you will not make me disappear, too.You have no idea who you’re messing with!
But that’s just fantasy. In reality, David reaches out and grabs my arm like he did before, only his grip is much stronger this time. His fingers gouge into my flesh until it burns from the pressure.
I can’t move. It’s as if someone has driven nails through my feet. My legs are as stiff as tree trunks. I don’t dare protest—I’m raw with fear over what he might do. David bathes my face with his hot whiskey breath. His grip softens, but his expression remains rock-hard.
“Do you think I’m a fool, Izzy?”
I think you’re a pornographer and a kidnapper and probably a killer.But wisely, those words stay inside my head.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I squeak out.
David leans in more, almost touching his lips to my cheek as he speaks. “I know you’re lying to me.”
A sudden rush of fear coats me anew. At last, David lets go of my arm. He rests his hip against the desk, which creates a narrow pathway for me to escape, but something tells me that trying to get away would only make matters worse. With or without physical restraint, I’m trapped.
He sends me a crooked grin. “I was in a bind when I hired you,” he says. His posture is more relaxed now. “But I’m not an idiot. You’re not an experienced nanny. You’re an overqualified babysitter, at best. Believe me, I’ve seen enough professionals to know the difference. Why are you here? What is it you’re after?”
“Nothing. I just really needed a job.” My voice is barely there.
“You wanted a job for two weeks watching five-year-old twins so badly that you lied to get it? I pay pretty well, but you’re notmakingthatmuch.” He peers into my eyes long enough to make me recoil. “No, I don’t think that’s correct,” he continues. “I don’t think that’s right at all. You’re still not being honest, Izzy.”
He pulls back, far enough for me to see him transform right before my eyes, a wolf becoming a man. When he smiles, it’s in an understanding way, as if all is forgiven. “But we’re here, aren’t we?” he says. “We’re in this together. And we’re going to make the best of it because I plan to stick around… for Fiona… and that means you need to help with the kids while we’re sorting all this out. And I’ll be watching you, Izzy, very carefully, every move, every minute of every day, I’ll have my eyes on you. I’vehadmy eyes on you.”
He looks greedy. His lips blossom into a self-satisfied smile. A fierce chill rips through me, because I know what he means. This house, with all its glass, has yet another way to strip away my privacy, and he’s been using it to watch me this entire time.
Cameras.
Chapter 33
Julia
It was a two-hour trip south to Bennington, Vermont, the town where Fiona inexplicably did her dry cleaning. Julia had never been there before, but after finding the receipt in the Porsche, she felt compelled to investigate further.
Bennington, a town of roughly fifteen thousand, was situated near the borders of Massachusetts and New York. It was a straight shot down Route 7. Julia would normally have enjoyed the rural scenery, covered bridges, and quaint towns she passed through along the way, but she was too caught up in her own troubles to pay much attention.
It had been a grueling morning with Taylor, who wasn’t interested in talking about her time with Erika, and she vehemently refused to discuss anything relating to her father. Julia’s attempts to connect at the breakfast table were met with a mix of indifference and defiance.
“I don’t want to talk about Dad. He keeps asking me about you, and I shouldn’t be in the middle,” Taylor grumbled between bites of her blueberry muffin, a breakfast treat from a local bakery that never went light on the butter. “I’ve read that it’s supposed to be bad for my mental health.”
Julia knew she was being goaded into an argument, but didn’t take the bait. “I believe you’re confusing your father’s relapse with divorce, and that’s not our situation,” she said. “You’re not in the middle of anything, but the whole familyisaffected, and I want you to beable to talk about your feelings. Naturally, we should be supportive of your dad, but his sobriety is his battle. I’m more concerned aboutyou.Did you and Erika talk about it?”
Taylor’s expression was a blank canvas. Julia could project whatever emotions she wanted onto it, but Taylor wasn’t about to reveal anything.
“Like, yeah, we talked,” she said. “But what do you want from me? This is between you and Dad.”
And with that, Taylor abruptly left the table.
