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Ыоуве Been Warned :: Patterson James
Страница: 1 из 138Аннотация: For Karen Burns, a talented young photographer, it was only natural to go to New York to chase her dreams. And it was only normal-just to pay the rent while she waited for her big chance-to work as a nanny for a young power couple, an attorney and his socialite wife, watching their two children.
But for all the promise, the thrills, and the glitter, there are temptations and there are deadly dangers that come with life among the rich and powerful. Get ready for the Nanny Diaries from Hell.
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James Patterson, Howard Roughan
You’ve Been Warned
For Christine and Trevor, forever my big picture
– H. R.
For Suzie and Jack, my scary ones
– J. P.
Character, like a photograph, develops in darkness.
– Yousuf Karsh
Chapter 1
IT’S WAY TOO EARLY in the morning for dead people.
That’s what I’d be thinking, were I actually thinking clearly right now. I’m not.
The second I turn the corner on my way to work and see the crowd, the commotion, the dingy gray body bags being wheeled out of that oh-so-chichi hotel, I reach for my camera. I can’t help it. It’s instinct on my part.
Click, click, click.
Don’t think about what’s happened here. Just shoot, Kristin.
My head whips left and right, the lens of my Leica R9 leading the way. I focus first on the faces around me – the gawkers, the lookie-loos. That’s what Annie Leibovitz would do. A businessman in wide pinstripes, a bike messenger, a mother with her stroller, they all stand and stare at the terrible murder scene. Like it or not, this is the highlight of their day. And it’s not yet eight a.m.
I move forward, even as something inside me is saying, “Look away, walk away.” Even as something says, “You know where you are. This hotel. You know, Kristin.”
I’m weaving my way toward the entrance to the hotel. Closer and closer, I’m being pulled – as if by an undertow that I can’t resist. And I keep shooting pictures as though I’m on assignment for the New York Times or Newsweek.
Click, click, click.
Parked at jagged angles, police cars and ambulances fill the street. I look up from their sirens, tracing the twirling beams of blue-and-red light as they dance against the surrounding brownstones.
I spy more gawkers in the windows of nearby apartments. A woman wearing curlers takes a bite of a bagel. Click.
Something catches my eye.
But for all the promise, the thrills, and the glitter, there are temptations and there are deadly dangers that come with life among the rich and powerful. Get ready for the Nanny Diaries from Hell.
---------------------------------------------
James Patterson, Howard Roughan
You’ve Been Warned
For Christine and Trevor, forever my big picture
– H. R.
For Suzie and Jack, my scary ones
– J. P.
Character, like a photograph, develops in darkness.
– Yousuf Karsh
Chapter 1
IT’S WAY TOO EARLY in the morning for dead people.
That’s what I’d be thinking, were I actually thinking clearly right now. I’m not.
The second I turn the corner on my way to work and see the crowd, the commotion, the dingy gray body bags being wheeled out of that oh-so-chichi hotel, I reach for my camera. I can’t help it. It’s instinct on my part.
Click, click, click.
Don’t think about what’s happened here. Just shoot, Kristin.
My head whips left and right, the lens of my Leica R9 leading the way. I focus first on the faces around me – the gawkers, the lookie-loos. That’s what Annie Leibovitz would do. A businessman in wide pinstripes, a bike messenger, a mother with her stroller, they all stand and stare at the terrible murder scene. Like it or not, this is the highlight of their day. And it’s not yet eight a.m.
I move forward, even as something inside me is saying, “Look away, walk away.” Even as something says, “You know where you are. This hotel. You know, Kristin.”
I’m weaving my way toward the entrance to the hotel. Closer and closer, I’m being pulled – as if by an undertow that I can’t resist. And I keep shooting pictures as though I’m on assignment for the New York Times or Newsweek.
Click, click, click.
Parked at jagged angles, police cars and ambulances fill the street. I look up from their sirens, tracing the twirling beams of blue-and-red light as they dance against the surrounding brownstones.
I spy more gawkers in the windows of nearby apartments. A woman wearing curlers takes a bite of a bagel. Click.
Something catches my eye.