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.”
“If I don’t check, I’ll worry about you. It’ll interfere with my sleep.”
“You’re interfering with my sleep. Good night, Charlie.”
Madison let up on the Audio button. The man glared at the camera, fists clenched. The wind gusted, blowing open his jacket, and she saw a holster under his arm. He has a gun. Taking a step closer to the door, he rattled the doorknob.
She whispered urgently into the phone, “Judge, he has a gun, and he’s trying the door.”
“Put the phone back. I’ll tell him not to.”
“Is the door strong enough to keep him out?”
“Put the phone back, Madison.”
Her hand shook as she held it up.
“Get away from the door, Charlie, or I’m calling the real police,” the judge said.
“Explain something to me. A friend of mine saw your name on the manifest for a flight to DC tonight.”
“That’s obviously a mistake. I’m right here.”
“He’s a reliable source.”
“Some lowlife who you pay? Please.”
“Open the door.”
“No. I know what you did. You tried to get in. Well, I’m sick of it. Get the fuck away from me. And if you try that again, I’m serious, I will call nine-one-one, and you can explain to your superiors. As if you don’t have enough complaints on file. Now, I’m going to sleep.”
The call dropped. Madison was rooted to the floor, staring at the doorknob, afraid to move for fear that he’d hear her. Slowly, she backed away.
Her phone buzzed with a text.
Are the blinds drawn?
Yes you said leave them down, she replied.
The request hadn’t seemed that strange at the time. In retrospect, it was ominous.
Good, keep them that way. Now reset the alarm.
Hold on.
Hands clumsy with nerves, she had to try twice to get it right.
Done.
OK turn off all lights and go back upstairs. And stay back from the windows. I don’t want him seeing your shadow or he’ll know it’s not me.
What would he do if he figured that out—shoot her through the window?
Who the fuck was this guy?
Trembling, she went around making sure the lights were off. In the darkened kitchen, she heard a noise and froze. Something brushed against her leg. She stifled a cry, then heard a meow. Lucy.
“Hey, girl, you scared me. C’mere,” she whispered, voice shaking.
Scooping up the wriggling cat, she crept up the stairs. At the top, without warning, the cat clawed her arm and jumped, bolting into the darkness.
“Ow. Not nice.”
She hurried up to the attic room where she’d been sleeping, dousing the light and creeping over to the dormered window. Tugging the blinds aside, she peered down. From this angle, the front steps were obscured by the jutting facade. He was probably still down there, biding his time, planning to make another attempt to get inside. He’d tried to break in. That was what triggered the alarm. Not Madison getting the code wrong. Not the cat on a midnight prowl. It was him, the man at the door. If he tried once, he could try again. She either needed to leave this crazy house or call the cops. But how could she leave when he was down there? He would see her come out. She should call the cops, then. But she should give Judge Conroy a heads-up before bringing the police to her home.
She dialed the judge’s phone.
Judge Conroy picked up on the first ring.
“I’m worried he’s still out there,” Madison said breathlessly.
“Can you see him?”
“No, I just feel it.”
“Did you turn off the lights?”
“Yes.”
“Where are you?”
“Up in the au pair room. I’m going to call nine-one-one.”
“No. Madison, it’s not necessary. I’m sure he’s gone.”
“What if he isn’t? He had a gun. I saw the holster.”
“Don’t worry. He was giving me a hard time, but I read him the riot act. You heard.”
“What if he doesn’t listen?”