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“Wow, are they pla
“I think so,” he says with the cutest nod.
I automatically give him the once-over, checking to see that he’s properly dressed for school. He is, from his head right down to his little toes, which happen to be covered by his Jimmy – or is it Penley? – Neutron socks.
“Where’s Dakota?” I ask.
“She’s in her room.”
I straighten up, barely taking a step before Sean adds, “We’re not supposed to bother her.”
“What do you mean?”
“She isn’t going to school today,” he says, his eyes glued back on the Legos.
“Is she not feeling well?”
“I don’t know for sure. Mommy seems pretty mad, though.”
The words twist my stomach into a million knots. Maybe Dakota came down with a cold. Or maybe she couldn’t keep a secret.
I kneel next to Sean again. “What did you hear Mommy say, sweetheart?”
He snaps another Lego into place. “Hey, look at this, Miss Kristin!” Sean makes awhoosh! sound, waving his missile launcher back and forth.
“That’s neat,” I say, struggling to be patient. “But can you tell me what Mommy said? You remember, Sean?”
My mind explodes with the thought of Dakota spilling the beans to Penley: “I saw Miss Kristin at Nana and Papa’s house – she and Daddy were together!”
Is this how it ends? How this insane house of cards comes crashing down?
I peer over my shoulder at the door to the apartment. The instinct rising inside me is like a power surge to the brain.
Run!
Get out of here!
You don’t want to face her!
But before I can make a mad dash, I hear Penley’s mincing footsteps around the corner of the foyer. I turn to look, and there she is, staring right at me.
“Speak of the devil,” she says.
Chapter 47
“SEAN, DEAR, CAN YOU GO to your room, please?” asks Penley, her voice actually kind of gentle and sweet. Too sweet, I’m thinking. She’s overcompensating for what’s to come, the bloody showdown when it’s just the two of us out here.
Is it too late to make a run for it?
Sean scoops up his missile launcher and shuffles off toward his room. I’m half tempted to beg him to stay. Penley wouldn’t try to kill me in front of her stepson, would she?
Not knowing what to do, I stoop and begin gathering the remaining Legos on the floor.
“That can wait,” she says. “Come, we need to talk.”
Dressed in her workout clothes -what else? – Penley leads me into the living room, motioning for me to have a seat on the green satin couch against the wall. She takes one of the two armchairs facing it, and we both settle in.
“So, how was your weekend?” she asks.
I can’t believe it. She’s toying with me! The pleasant smile and friendly tone. She never asks about my weekend. Never.
“It was fine,” I answer.
“Do anything special?”
“No, not really.” Oh, yeah, I did see and talk to my dead father. Almost forgot.
Is she trying to get me to confess; is that her game?
Nothing doing. I’ll tell her the same thing Michael told Dakota. We’re pla
“How about yourself?” I ask, matching her broad smile tooth for tooth. “Did you have a nice weekend?”
“Very nice,” she says. “We spent yesterday out in the country at my parents’ place.”
“Oh?”
“I mentioned we were doing that, didn’t I?”
“You might have.” Actually, you didn’t, Michael did.
“You know, you should come out with us sometime,” she says. “It’s on the water; there’s a pool and te
Oh, you’re good, Penley.
If this is how you want to play it, I’ll make it easy for you. “Gee, I bet the kids really enjoy it.”
“They truly do. What kid doesn’t enjoy being around the water?” She folds her legs. “Strange, though.”
“What’s that?”
“Dakota.”
Finally… here we go.
“Yes,” I say. “Sean mentioned she wasn’t feeling well.”
“Actually, I’m not sure what’s wrong with her. By the time we were heading home yesterday, she seemed a little off. She doesn’t have a temperature, and it’s not her stomach. Something’s bothering her, though. Any ideas?”
I don’t say anything. Every muscle tenses, and I brace myself for the moment. Surely this is when she lays down her cards.
Instead, all Penley does is shrug.
“I’m sure Dakota will be fine. She’s tough, takes after Michael,” she says. “Just in case, I thought we’d keep her home from school today.” She flicks her wrist. “Anyway, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”
I barely manage a swallow. “No?”
“Guess who I spoke to last night?”
As long as it’s anyone but Dakota, I couldn’t care less at this point. I’m swimming in relief. “Who?” I ask.
“My friend Stephen.”
It takes me a moment to co
“Exactly,” she says. “The very cute one. So, tell me, do you have any plans for tonight?”
“Uh…”
“Because you do now.”
Chapter 48
“DID YOU KNOW that some female cockroaches mate once and are pregnant for the rest of their lives?”
“Wow,” I say, nodding my head and feigning amazement rather than repulsion.
The guy wipes his nose on his sleeve while making some weird clicking noise in his throat that I’ve never heard any other human make. “No wonder there are so many of the little suckers, right?”
“Yeah,” I say. “No wonder.”
Of course, things could be a lot worse. This guy could be my blind date for the evening. Instead, he’s my nooner. The exterminator. On my lunch break, I meet him at my apartment. Actually, outside my apartment. There was no way I was going back in there by myself.
Anyway, he’s a fittingly creepy-looking man with thick black-rimmed glasses that magnify his eyes. He sort of reminds me of Stephen King, the pictures I’ve seen of him, anyway. Of course, pictures lie.
“Thing is, cockroaches are basically built to survive almost anything,” he says. “Did you know they can hold their breath for up to forty minutes?”
“Interesting. You are full of information, aren’t you?”
He adjusts his spray nozzle. “So, you saw them in the closet here, huh?”
I nod. Yeah, just a couple thousand of them.
“Then that’s where we’ll start.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
As he reaches for the closet door I stand back. I don’t want to look. I don’t even want to be here.
“Hmm,” he mutters, looking around. “Mmm-hmm, hmm, hmm.”
“What?”
“There’s not a single dropping on the floor.” As if correcting himself, he raises a palm. “Not that I don’t believe you, of course.”
I watch as he flicks on his flashlight, shining it against the closet walls.
“What about your neighbors?” he asks.
“What about them?”
“You all get along?” He wipes his nose on his sleeve again. “I’ve had situations where one neighbor sabotages another with cockroaches – you know, letting them loose in vents or through holes they drill. Happens more than you’d think.”
I immediately try to picture Mrs. Rosencrantz, or her Herbert, doing something so wicked. I suppose I wouldn’t put it past them.
We walk the rest of the apartment. Every nook and cra
“What’s in here?” he asks at the last door down the hallway.
“That’s just my darkroom.” I open the door for him, flipping on the light.
He walks in and looks around, intrigued. “Mmm-hmm, mmm-hmm.”
After a few quick squirts of his spray nozzle, he notices the pictures pi
“You know this man, don’t you?” he asks.
“Why do you say that?”
“His expression – the way he’s looking at you and not the camera. In fact, I’d say you know him quite well.”