She stepped into the room. A black streak shot past her, out the door.
Jesus.
Faint and dizzy, she bent over to catch her breath. She needed to lie down. Her head throbbed, and she was starting to shiver. Her work clothes had never dried completely from when she ran through the rain to the restaurant. The judge said to borrow something to wear—pajamas, jeans, whatever she needed for the weekend. Even with permission, that seemed too familiar, almost like trespassing. She felt weird even being in this room. But she couldn’t sleep in these clothes.
In the dressing room, she found a drawerful of pajamas. A silky black pair with white piping fit perfectly. She normally slept in old T-shirts and sweats. Imagine dressing so glamorously every hour of every day. It would change you, at least in other people’s eyes. She grabbed a bottle of Tylenol from the medicine chest and hurried out, pulling the door closed behind her. Her phone’s flashlight cast weird shadows as she went upstairs. The fourth-floor landing was narrow and bare of furniture—servants’ quarters, with a ceiling so low that she could jump up and touch the skylight if she tried. In the attic bedroom, she turned on the light, startled by the sight of a haggard, dark-haired woman. But it was herself, reflected in a mirror over a chest of drawers. The room had been shut up for a long time. It smelled musty. Judge Conroy had forgotten to turn on the heat. It was freezing in there. She found the thermostat and cranked up the heat. After a couple of minutes, the ancient radiator began to hiss. The room had an old-fashioned charm, with sloping ceilings, a braided rug on the scuffed wood floor, and a brass bed tucked under the eaves. A door at the far end led to a little bathroom with a pedestal sink and clawfoot tub. She washed her face, took two Tylenol, and went to sit on the edge of the bed. The down comforter felt thick and cozy. She lay down and pulled it up to her chin, resting her eyes while the room warmed up.
* * *
In her dream, she was running down a dark street at night, chased by cop cars. Sirens blared. She opened her eyes.
The siren was real.
She bolted upright, hitting her head on the sloped ceiling. Ugh. She’d been so careful with the codes, but somehow, the cat had triggered the alarm. She staggered from bed. The sake hadn’t worn off yet. She wanted to throw up and then stand under a hot shower. But she had to turn that alarm off ASAP. She grabbed her phone and stumbled down the stairs. She’d left the first-floor lights on when she went upstairs earlier. She saw a second keypad beside the front door, closer than the one in the back hall. Vibrating with adrenaline, she found the code on her phone and punched it in.
Silence. She heaved a sigh.
The next second, a pounding on the door shattered the calm.
“Kathy, open up!”
Who the hell was that? A man’s voice. There was no peephole to look through, and the shades were drawn. Judge Conroy had said not to let anyone into the house, under any circumstances, and to use the video monitor to check before opening the door for deliveries. Video monitor. Madison located the button, pressed it, and a screen came to life, in black and white. She saw a man in his forties, pale, wearing a dark windbreaker. He jerked his head up, looking into the camera.
“So, you are in there. Open the door.”
She stepped back, staring at him, heart pounding. Her phone started buzzing in her hand.
It was the judge.
“Hello?” she whispered.
“Do not let him in.”
“How did you know?”
“I got an alert on my phone.”
An alert that said there was a man at the door? She must be able to see the video feed remotely.
“He’s angry. What do I say?” she said, keeping her voice low.
“I’ll say it. Put your phone on speaker, hold it up to the monitor, and push Audio. He needs to think it’s me talking, like I’m there in person.”
“Got it. Hold on … Okay, go.”
The judge’s voice flowed from Madison’s phone through the security system out to the man on the front steps.
“It’s the middle of the night, Charlie. What do you want?”
His face settled into a scowl. “Your alarm went off. I came to investigate.”
“You just happened to be in the neighborhood? What a coincidence.”
“I was driving by.”
The judge’s sigh was audible over the airwaves. “Uh-huh. Well, there’s no reason to be concerned. It was the cat. She triggered the alarm again.”
“Why don’t I come in and verify that? Just to be safe.”
“It’s fine. Go home.”