You’ve Been Warned

Chapter 50

I NEED SOME AIR!

That’s all I’m thinking as I say good-bye to Stephen. Our evening ends on the sidewalk outside Elio’s with an exchange of awkward smiles, a peck on my cheek, and the unspoken understanding that this is our first and last date.

“Can I hail you a cab?” he asks.

“That’s okay. I think I’m going to walk for a bit.”

It doesn’t matter where, and for the next hour or so, I pay no attention to the street signs. I wander aimlessly. It’s only when I get a strange feeling in my stomach that I look up for the first time and see where I am.

Sixty-eighth and Madison, right smack in front of the Fálcon Hotel.

Coincidence?

I wish.

I’m starting to believe that everything is happening for a reason. If only I could figure out what it is. Something has to tie all this together, make sense of it.

Maybe the strangest thing of all: the Fálcon and I have a history. Something I never talk about, not even to Michael. It happened my first week in New York, actually, just before I left Matthew of Boston. Since then, I try not to think about it. But here I am!

Standing in front of the hotel, watching as a few well-heeled guests exit and enter under the same red awning where the four gurneys came rolling out, I can’t help dwelling on one of the other strange “coincidences.”

My pictures.

Specifically, the transparent effect that happened with the body bags. And then with Penley.

There has to be some logical connection here… But what is it? And does everything in life have to be logical? Since when?

It would be so easy to say that the dream I keep having is a premonition. I never used to believe in that psychic stuff, but now I’m willing to change my mind. Except the dream already came true. I saw it with my own eyes. Standing in this exact spot, no less.

The people in those body bags are stone cold dead. Penley – as if I need to be reminded – is very much alive.

Don’t go there.

I can’t help it, though. The thought creeps into my head, as it’s done a few times before. I know it’s wrong. I know it’s horrible even to think it.

And still, I do.

It’s Penley who stands in the way of everything. Were it not for her, I’d have Michael. I’d have Dakota and Sean. I’d have everything I ever wanted.

If only Penley weren’t in the picture.

Chapter 51

SERIOUSLY.

Don’t. Go. There.

With every step, I try talking myself out of it, but there’s another voice, a louder voice – one I barely even recognize as my own – propelling me.

My strides get longer and faster; I’m moving on adrenaline from head to toe. The night air is crisp, a lot cooler than usual for May, and I feel a slight sting on my cheeks.

I look up.Yes. Of course there’s a full moon!

What should be a ten-minute walk takes only five, and before I know it I’m standing right across the street from Michael’s building.

I check my watch. It’s a few minutes past midnight.

And you thought you got Michael angry in Connecticut? That was nothing compared to this.

Through the large glass panels flanking the entrance, I can see the night doorman killing time at his desk. I try to remember his name and I’m almost positive it’s Adam. I’ve only met him once or twice before, when he was filling in on the day shift.

It doesn’t matter.

I dial the building’s number on my cell phone and watch as he picks up. They always answer the same way, announcing the address in lieu of “Hello.”

“Is this Adam?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Hi, it’s Kristin, the nanny for the Turnbulls. Listen, I was wondering if you could do me a favor? Louis let me use the staff bathroom off the lobby this morning, and I think I might have left my purse in there. Could you check for me? Sorry.”

“Sure, hold on a second.”

He puts down the phone and disappears behind the door near his desk. A starter’s pistol fires in my head.

Go!

I dart across Fifth Avenue and burst through the front entrance. Racing through the empty lobby, I make it safely to the stairwell before Adam returns.

I’m in.

I hang up my cell and tiptoe up five flights so I’m well out of earshot. Then I call Adam back.

“Sorry to hang up on you; I had another call coming in,” I say. “Any luck?”

“No, I’m afraid I didn’t see your purse. It’s not at the front desk either.”

“Darn, I thought that’s where I left it. Thanks for looking, though.”

“No problem,” he says.

That’s for sure.

You learn a lot about a building after working in it for a couple of years. In the case of the Turnbulls’, it so happens there are no security cameras on the stairs. Goody for me.

Now comes the hard part.

It’s called breaking and entering.

Chapter 52

I HIKE THE REMAINING thirteen flights, struggling to catch my breath as I reach the penthouse. I check my watch again, which is just a nervous tic, I know.

Lights out at the Turnbulls’ is usually no later than ten. Michael rises with the sun, and Penley sees the benefit of a good night’s sleep strictly from a cosmetic point of view. God forbid she ever has bags under her eyes.

Still, I cool my heels for another fifteen minutes. One last chance, perhaps, to come to my senses.

The chance passes.

Thumbing through my keys, I find the one Penley gave me when I first began working for her. I distinctly recall her saying something snotty and condescending about it being a symbol of trust. What, like I’m going to use it to break in one night?

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 could ever possibly use. I focus on one propped against the headboard, untouched. My brain ignites, and like sparks, the ideas come flying. All of them evil.

How easy it would be to lean over Penley and grab that pillow, place it on her face with my elbows locked and smother her. If I did it quick enough, she wouldn’t even struggle, would she? There would be no violent kicking, no muffled screams. She’d die a quick, silent, 100 percent goose down death.

Could I really do it?

Hell, I can’t even believe I’m thinking it.

It occurs to me: maybe that’s the connection – why Penley’s picture has the same ghosting effect as the body bags from the Fálcon. It’s because she’s in danger.

From me?

I feel dizzy. A rush of cold air hits me and I gasp, only to look over at the curtains and see them billowing. The window over the terrace has been open all this time.

A little shiver travels up through my spine and head, jarring my thoughts in an entirely new direction.

I know exactly what I have to do now.

Shoot Michael.

Chapter 54

CAREFULLY, I REMOVE THE LEICA from my shoulder bag, double-checking to make sure it’s loaded. My hands steady, I aim right for Michael’s head.

Don’t think, just shoot.

“Mommy!”

My head whips around. Oh, jeez, it’s Sean calling from his room.

“Mommy!” he yells again.

I look back at Michael and Penley. They’re waking up. Quick, hide!

I glance at my camera. No, wait. Snap a picture – then hide!

Sean calls out a third time, his little voice screeching like a siren. He not only sounds louder, he sounds closer. Is he out of his bed?

I drop to the floor in a panic. Ten feet away, over by the bathroom, is a small sitting area with a sofa.

I begin crawling toward it on my hands and knees.

I’m completely in the open now. If Penley gets out of bed, the only way she won’t see me is if she trips over me first.

That’s when I hear her mumble to Michael, half asleep. It seems she’s not going anywhere.

“Go see what he wants,” she says.

“He’s yelling for his mommy, ” he mumbles back.

“Then let him yell.”

Michael groans and pushes back the covers.

Oh no, he’s getting out of bed! Michael is going to see me in about two seconds.

The couch is still a few feet away. I scramble to hide behind it. The floorboards creak beneath the rug.

“What was that?” asks Michael.

Penley yawns. “What was what? ”

“That noise. Didn’t you hear? It sounded like it came from inside the room.”

I close my eyes. I’m toast.

“Mommy?”

I peek out around the sofa. Sean’s standing in the doorway now, his voice barely above a whisper.

I’m saved. At least for the moment.

Michael forgets all about the noise in the room. “Hey, what’s the matter, little buddy?” he asks.

“I had a bad dream. Dumba came again. Can I sleep in your bed?” Dumba is the monster who sometimes invades Sean’s dreams. Is Dumba maybe the monster who invades my dreams?

“Sure you can,” says Michael. He is a nice guy.

“No!” snaps Penley.

“Honey, give the kid a break, will you? He’s scared.”

“I don’t care. He needs to learn that he can’t always come running to us.”

Michael bristles. “Yeah, and he also needs to learn algebra, but neither has to happen at age five.”

As terrified as I am to be stuck there, I can’t help thinking, Good one, Michael!

Not that Penley would ever be denied. “Fine,” she huffs. “I’ll give you a choice. If he sleeps in here, you don’t!”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I’m dead serious. You, Sean, and Dumba can go sleep somewhere else.”

“Jesus, you’re a piece of work, Penley.”

I hear Michael’s feet land on the floor with a resounding thud. His voice sweetens for Sean. “C’mon, buddy, you and I are sleeping in the guest room.”

And off they go.

Leaving me and Penley.

Chapter 55

FOR ONCE I DON’T wake up drenched in sweat and screaming from the dream. That’s because I never go to sleep that night.

No, I don’t hurt Penley, or even say boo to her in their bedroom. I hide behind the sofa, barely moving a muscle, for another hour until I’m convinced it’s safe to slip out undetected. Out of the apartment, that is.

Leaving the building is another story.

It’s a lot easier to sneak in than it is to sneak out. Hey, Adam, would you mind looking in the bathroom again for my purse?

I don’t think so.

So I hang out in the stairwell off the penthouse until morning. A new day, a new doorman – and if Louis pauses from his imaginary sword fight with Sean to ask why he didn’t see me come in, I’ll just joke about him going blind or having Alzheimer’s.

I try to sleep, Lord knows I’m exhausted enough, but concrete steps make for a lousy pillow. After an hour or so, I give up on the hope of catching any Z’s, choosing instead to plan in my head every detail of Michael’s and my honeymoon.

The Caribbean? Maybe the Bahamas and the One amp; Only Ocean Club? Venice and the Gritti Palace? The French Riviera?

All I know is that when we get back, Sean can sleep in our bed whenever he wants. In fact, maybe for our honeymoon we’ll take the kids to Disney World. Why not?

At about five-fifteen, I hear the first signs of life on the other side of the stairwell door. It’s Michael leaving for his office. Five-fifteen? That’s even earlier than usual. I suppose that’s what a night in the guest room will do to you.

At about a quarter to eight, it’s my turn. For the second day in a row, I’m early for work. If I keep it up, I might just get a raise!

I let myself into the apartment. Again.

“My, someone looks tired,” says Penley with an obnoxious grin as I greet her in the kitchen. “You must have had a late night.” Wink-wink, nudge-nudge.

It takes me a second to catch her drift. My blind date with Stephen seems like a week ago, or like it didn’t even happen.

“I want all the details,” she insists.

I’m too tired and in no mood, especially because there isn’t much to tell. “He was very nice,” I say.

Penley frowns, then she shakes her head. “You’re going to have to do better than that, Kristin.”

I thought as much. So I ply her with some mindless details about the dinner, and while I don’t come right out and say it, I make it clear that her gym friend is not “my type.” For sure, I don’t want her pushing for a second date.

Then she surprises me. “Yeah, Stephen pretty much felt the same way.”

“You spoke to him already?”

“Hope you don’t mind,” she says with a shrug. “He’s a friend, after all, and I was curious.”

I can see that.

She turns and pours herself another steaming cup of c-offee, which looks delicious, by the way. One day she might actually ask if I want one.

“You know, Stephen got the sense that you were already seeing someone.”

Thanks, pal!

“I tried to assure him I’m not,” I say. “It’s a little funny to hear that, though, given he still seems hung up on his ex-girlfriend.”

“You think so?”

“Absolutely. Did you know she’s a married woman, by the way?”

Her eyes go wide. Apparently not.

“He neglected to mention that,” she says with a smirk. “I apologize.”

Penley? Apologizing?

“For what?” I ask.

“Thinking Stephen was right for you. I don’t approve of that sort of thing. He should know better,” she says, frowning. “Don’t you agree?”

Oh, the irony.

Chapter 56

I STRUGGLE TO STAY awake while I walk the kids to school. I’ve got one eye just about closed, the other trained on Dakota, as I still wonder what’s going through her mind.

Indeed, she wasn’t quite herself yesterday, spending most of the time in her room. Her daddy and I were only talking behind those hedges out in Westport, but the whole vibe of the moment must have seemed a little less than innocent. Eventually, I take Dakota’s hand in mine, and she lets me.

“Hey, Miss Kristin, guess what?” chirps Sean as we march across the street at Madison and 76th. “You were in my dream last night!”

Oh, great…double trouble.

For the last couple of blocks before Preston Academy, I listen to Sean explaining his dream in great detail. Apparently he and I had a picnic on the moon.

“Or was it Mars?” he wonders.

The details are a little fuzzy, but what’s clear is that he has no recollection of my being in his room. Hallelujah. One less thing to worry about.

That leaves only about a dozen others. What’s bumming me out the most, I think, is that after all I went through last night, I wasn’t able to snap a shot of Michael. I was so spooked by nearly getting caught that all I could think about was escaping from the apartment as soon as possible.

“Okay, my angels,” I say, kneeling just outside the gates of Preston Academy. “Have a wonderful day, listen to your teachers, and I’ll be here this afternoon to pick you up.”

“Bye,” says Sean, and he kisses me on the cheek.

“Thanks,” says Dakota. “Just for being nice.”

As always, I watch their mad dash to join their friends and head inside the school. When Sean falls behind, Dakota stops and sticks out her hand, patiently waiting. My heart sighs.

It’s settled. Michael and I are definitely taking them to Disney World for our honeymoon!

I turn and head back toward Fifth Avenue, a different song – finally – playing in my head. “It’s a small world after all…”

Less than a block later, my cell phone rings. What’s this?

Serendipity! It’s Michael. I knew it was only a matter of time before he called.

“I was just thinking of you,” I say.

“Not as much as I’ve been thinking of you, Kris. I’ve missed you so much!”

Before I can say ditto, he apologizes.

“For what?” I ask. “That’s what I should be doing. I’m so sorry for what I did. I’m mortified.”

“No, it was wrong of me to cancel on you. Penley is such a bitch,” he says. “I should’ve never gone out to Westport.”

“That makes two of us.”

We laugh, and he simply couldn’t be any sweeter. It doesn’t take long for me to make the connection to the rotten night he had sleeping with Sean and Dumba in the guest room. If only he knew I saw it all firsthand.

It’s amazing, really. For everything I’ve said and done as part of my Dump Penley campaign, my efforts are no match for Penley herself. At this rate, Michael might even dump her by the Fourth of July.

Independence Day.

What fireworks that would be!

“I’ve got another business dinner this evening,” says Michael, “but I want to make sure we’re together tomorrow night. Anything you want, we’ll do it, okay?”

“You’ve got yourself a date,” I answer.

“God, I’m so lucky to have you.”

“Don’t you forget it!”

We say good-bye, laced with I love you s, and I put my cell phone away. Opening my shoulder bag, I see that the lens cap has fallen off my camera. As I snap it back on, I notice something else.

I loaded a new roll of film before sneaking into Michael and Penley’s apartment last night. Since I didn’t snap a single picture, the shot counter should still read 0.

Only it reads 1.

Chapter 57

MAYBE THE CAMERA JOSTLED in my bag, triggering the shutter. It could happen. Especially these days.

But there’s another possibility…

The thought immediately spins me around. Now I’m walking in the opposite direction.

Out comes my cell phone again, and I call Penley. Actually, I call her answering machine, since I know she’s still at the gym. Not that she’d pick up anyway.

A filling just fell out, I explain. Luckily, my dentist can take me right away. “Don’t worry, I’ll be done in plenty of time to pick up the kids at three.”

That takes care of that. Next stop: my darkroom.

I’ve never burned an entire roll of film for only one picture, but if there’s going to be a first time, this is definitely it.

I have to see 1.

Right before Sean called out last night, I had Michael lined up in my lens. Maybe -just maybe – I managed to get the shot without even knowing it.

The desire to find out takes over, and I’m quickly hailing a cab in lieu of walking. I’m riding another wave of adrenaline, my mind and body oblivious to the fact that I’ve been awake for over twenty-four hours. And counting.

“Keep the change,” I tell the cabbie, dropping seven bucks in his lap as he pulls up to my building. Less than a minute later, I’m alone in my darkroom, the main light out and the door closed. The safety is on and everything is eerily red in the small room.

I’m getting pretty good at speed developing lately, and with this roll of film, I set a new record. My eyes and hands are in complete sync – reaching, pouring, setting, shifting – everything it takes to bring this one picture to life.

What if it’s not Michael?

It could be anything, really. Maybe it’s Penley. Or nothing at all.

A blur, a blob, or complete blackness. Perhaps all I’ve got is a glitch in the camera’s shot counter, and this supposed picture doesn’t even exist.

If that’s the case, I’ll have to be patient. I’ll wait until tomorrow night when Michael and I are together and snap a shot of him then. After all, it’s only another day to wait.

I glare at the processing tank. “Hurry up, you lazy-ass film!”

Then again, I’m not exactly in a patient mood.

I anxiously tap my fingers, waiting for the first sign of an image. Gradually, one appears.

I shift the negative over to the holding bath and lean in for a better view. It’s someone, but I can’t be sure who. So I hurriedly make a print, and that’s when I know.

It’s Michael, all right. I did take a picture of him after all.

And as I look closely at the shot, I see what I didn’t want to see – the same ghosting effect I noticed with Penley.

“Shit. Don’t do this.”

But there’s something else, something even more bizarre.

Scary is more like it. Terrifying!

I immediately plunge a hand into the cold water of the holding bath, grabbing the shot while reaching for my magnifying loupe.

Oh, my God, Michael. What have I done?

He isn’t lying in bed beside Penley. He’s sprawled on the floor of a room I don’t recognize. A place I don’t believe I’ve ever been in my life.

And he looks dead.