Crush(101)

I couldn’t believe it, but the bookcase to the left of the fireplace slowly started to open. My heart was racing and I bit my bottom lip in an attempt to steady my shaking body.

Anticipation clogged my throat. I wanted to run inside and see what all the fuss was about, but I was cautious and I waited for it to fully open. My eyes glanced back to the computer screen and the bar read 100 percent. Torn between the safe room and the computer program, I decided to eject the thumb drive first.

Once I did, I turned back and the door was still fully opened. I shoved the thumb drive in my pocket and wondered how long I should wait to see if it closed on its own. I should have asked Miles. I patted my pockets for my phone but it was in my purse, which was out in the foyer, and there was no way I could leave Michael’s office with the door to the safe room, panic room, or whatever you want to call it the way it was.

It remained fully open. I stared at it. It hadn’t closed by now and I knew it wasn’t going to. I was certain of that. I saw a large five-prong handle on the inside and knew it was there for someone to pull it shut and lock the door quickly by turning it.

Bracing myself, I took a tentative step forward . . . nervous but filled with hope that going inside would lead me closer to the truth.

One step.

Two.

Three.

And I was inside.

It was smaller than I had imagined. Twelve by twelve at the most. The air smelled musty and dry like the basement. But it was neat and clean. The walls were a deep blue. There were three clocks across the one directly opposite me. Each was labeled—Tokyo, London, and Washington. Under them was a desk that stretched the entire length of the room. Two monitors were located on each end of the desk. To my right was a couch sandwiched between open shelves with bottles of water, cans of fruit, and first aid supplies. There was another couch sandwiched between cabinets.

Curious, I started with those.

The center of the room was clear and if Michael had money or drugs hidden inside the room, they’d have to be in there. My pulse was thundering in every pressure point in my body as I moved quickly. If Michael came home and found me in here, I’d have no excuse that would ring true. Clementine wasn’t even in the house.

The bottom cabinet was a refrigerator that was empty. The top held a few guns, ammunition, and flashlights. The other cabinet was completely barren, but salt crystals were on the bottom of it. There was also a safe on the top that I wasn’t even going to try to open.

The desk held the monitors and a keyboard. I clicked the enter button and was shocked to see rooms in the house pop up as well as the front and back doors. In plain sight were the kitchen, the family room, and Clementine’s bedroom. Thank God, none of the other bedrooms were being monitored. Still, it made me a little jumpy to know Michael could watch me almost anywhere.

Oh, God, could he see me now?

I was just about to give up and run when a sheet a paper with what I knew to be my sister’s writing caught my attention. Her letters always looked printed in all capital letters and they were easily identifiable. My heart stuttered a little as I reached for it. It read:

Gabby,

You must have known how much I need you right now. Things in my life are a mess. I need to get away. Please bring Clementine, a bag of her things, and as much money as you can. Meet me later tonight at 615 One Park Lane. Don’t tell anyone, especially Michael, and please, be careful.



Love, Lizzy



Tears stung the back of my eyes and I sucked in a breath to hold them back. My sister had tried to contact me and somehow Michael intercepted the note. The wave of sadness I felt was excruciating.

“Miss Sterling, are you still here?”

My eyes darted toward the door and I spotted a sealed vanilla envelope on the desk labeled Clementine’s Paternity. I had no time to look through it now, though; Mrs. R and Clementine were back and I had to get out of here. Frantic I was going to be caught, my hands were shaking hard and my mind was a scattered mess.

Clop, clop, clop, like a little racehorse I heard Clementine’s small footfalls on the wooden floor in the foyer.

Snapping into action, I shot like a rocket out of the door. The door. How was I going to close it? I hoped it was programmed as Miles had described. Holding my breath, I reentered the code and then closed the panel that covered it.

“Miss Sterling.”

I felt a flicker of terror. Was I going to get caught?

The panic room door continued to close and I hoped it wasn’t noticeable that I’d been inside. With no time to dwell over it, I tore toward the office doors, which, thank God, I’d shut before sitting at Michael’s computer, and placed my hand on the knob. My heart was in my throat. A quick glance back told me I’d left the desk the way I’d found it and that the panic room door had completely closed. I heaved a sigh of relief and shut the door behind me. Then I crept out into the hallway and saw Mrs. R and Clementine in the hall powder room.

Mrs. R hadn’t seen me, and I tiptoed toward the kitchen and then turned on my heels. I drew in the deepest of breaths that I could and said, “I’m still here.”

She peeked out of the bathroom. She was soaked from head to toe and so was my little princess, who came surging for me when she saw me. “Mommy.”

Mrs. R was still looking at me. I shrugged and gave Clementine a little huff of laughter. “What happened? Did you get rained on?”

“Wet,” she giggled.