Private Oz (Private 7)
“Just a sec Julie,” Greta said. “Just let me try Christine.” She plucked her cell from the table and hit the speed-dial number. It rang five times then went to voicemail. Irritated, she snapped shut the phone.
“We’ll be good,” Serge said.
“It’s not that, sweetie.”
“Too late to get anyone else,” Brett muttered.
“Okay! okay!” Greta put her hands up resignedly. “Julie …?”
Julie’s face was expressionless.
“I apologize. Would you …?”
Julie smiled sweetly.
Chapter 60
SHE CLOSED THE door. Nikki and Serge were standing together eyeing their babysitter.
“Where have your eyebrows gone?” Nikki asked.
Julie tilted her head to one side, touched her face and feigned surprise. “Aaaggghhh! They’ve vanished!”
The girl didn’t even smile.
“Okay, okay,” Julie said frowning. “I woke up this morning and they were gone!”
Nikki was skeptical. “No you didn’t!”
“Honest, I did! I think my cat ate ’em!” Julie clapped her hands together. “So what’s your favorite game, kids?”
The siblings argued about whether they should play Pocket God on the iPad, Xbox, or the interactive game that came with the latest Harry Potter DVD. In the end, the wizard won out.
Julie indulged them for an hour, then it was bedtime and Julie’s turn for some fun.
She’d wanted to see inside a house like this, see how the bitches around here lived. Earlier that day she’d told Christine, the Thorogoods’ regular sitter, that Greta had dropped into the store and asked her to pass the message on that she had to cancel tonight. Then she’d slipped Christine’s cell from her work overall.
The plan had worked, and now that she was here she was stunned. She’d never been in a house like this and couldn’t get her head round the fact that only four people lived in it. It did nothing for her state of mind.
She walked through the main living-room picking up ornaments, settling them back down carefully. The stairs beckoned. She spun round and walked up the wide metal and glass steps to the first floor. The kids were asleep.
She took the second flight of stairs to the top floor, a single expansive area devoted to the parents. A vast bedroom, a wall of windows looking out to the ocean. A bathroom bigger than most people’s living-rooms, and a walk-in wardrobe. Julie slipped between the rows of clothes running a hand along the parade of dresses and coats. At the end of each row stood a set of shelves, floor-to-ceiling and filled with expensive shoes.
Beyond the walk-in was a small room, Greta’s personal dressing-room. A counter, a chair, necklaces hanging from stands, make-up set out in precise rows.
Julie squatted down and picked a lipstick, applied it carefully and studied the result in the mirror over the counter. She gave herself an approving little nod, found the mascara and put it on, then walked back to the clothes.
She took her time, sifting through the garments carefully. She read the labels, Lanvin, Chanel, chose a bright red dress, slipped into it, managed to zip it up halfway. It was real tight on her, but she didn’t care.
She picked a pair of leopard print Christian Louboutin shoes, crammed her toes into them and strode into the bedroom where a mirror occupied half a wall.
“I was born for this,” Julie said to herself and did an ungainly twirl, almost falling off the shoes. That’s when she saw Nikki Thorogood staring at her, mouth open.
Julie reacted with incredible speed, whirled on the girl and grabbed her before she could take a single step back, brought a rough hand to the girl’s mouth and pulled her backwards against her body. Nikki’s petrified squeals muffled by Julie’s large fingers.
“Shut up,” Julie hissed in Nikki’s ear. Twisted her to face the mirror. She slipped the stiletto off her right foot and lifted the blade-like heel to the kid’s throat. “Tell anyone about this, Nikki … and I will come for you in the night and I will kill you very, very slowly. Do you understand me?”
The kid was too terrified to move. Julie tightened her grip. “DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME, NIKKI?”