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Ыоуве Been Warned :: Patterson James
Страница: 67 из 138Listen, I was wondering if you could do me a favor? Louis let me use the staff bathroom off the lobby thismorning, and I think I might have left my purse in there. Could you check for me? Sorry.”
“Sure, hold on a second.”
He puts down the phone and disappears behind the door near his desk. A starter’s pistol fires in my head.
Go!
I dart across Fifth Avenue and burst through the front entrance. Racing through the empty lobby, I make it safely to the stairwell before Adam returns.
I’m in.
I hang up my cell and tiptoe up five flights so I’m well out of earshot. Then I call Adam back.
“Sorry to hang up on you; I had another call coming in,” I say. “Any luck?”
“No, I’m afraid I didn’t see your purse. It’s not at the front desk either.”
“Darn, I thought that’s where I left it. Thanks for looking, though.”
“No problem,” he says.
That’s for sure.
You learn a lot about a building after working in it for a couple of years. In the case of the Turnbulls’, it so happens there are no security cameras on the stairs. Goody for me.
Now comes the hard part.
It’s called breaking and entering.
Chapter 52
I HIKE THE REMAINING thirteen flights, struggling to catch my breath as I reach the penthouse. I check my watch again, which is just a nervous tic, I know.
Lights out at the Turnbulls’ is usually no later than ten. Michael rises with the sun, and Penley sees the benefit of a good night’s sleep strictly from a cosmetic point of view. God forbid she ever has bags under her eyes.
Still, I cool my heels for another fifteen minutes. One last chance, perhaps, to come to my senses.
The chance passes.
Thumbing through my keys, I find the one Penley gave me when I first began working for her. I distinctly recall her saying something snotty and condescending about it being a symbol of trust. What, like I’m going to use it to break in one night?
The key clutched tightly in my hand, I gingerly approach the door and its solid brass lock. Turning my wrist ever so slowly, I try to dull the inevitable snap of the dead bolt. It’s so quiet around me in the hallway. Too quiet. I’m afraid even the slightest noise will wake everyone.
The lock cooperates – barely a sound – and I step inside. I can’t see a thing at first. It’s pitch-black, but I know the apartment so well it wouldn’t matter if I were blindfolded.
This is so insane. What am I doing?
Crossing the foyer, I walk down the long hallway to the bedrooms.
“Sure, hold on a second.”
He puts down the phone and disappears behind the door near his desk. A starter’s pistol fires in my head.
Go!
I dart across Fifth Avenue and burst through the front entrance. Racing through the empty lobby, I make it safely to the stairwell before Adam returns.
I’m in.
I hang up my cell and tiptoe up five flights so I’m well out of earshot. Then I call Adam back.
“Sorry to hang up on you; I had another call coming in,” I say. “Any luck?”
“No, I’m afraid I didn’t see your purse. It’s not at the front desk either.”
“Darn, I thought that’s where I left it. Thanks for looking, though.”
“No problem,” he says.
That’s for sure.
You learn a lot about a building after working in it for a couple of years. In the case of the Turnbulls’, it so happens there are no security cameras on the stairs. Goody for me.
Now comes the hard part.
It’s called breaking and entering.
Chapter 52
I HIKE THE REMAINING thirteen flights, struggling to catch my breath as I reach the penthouse. I check my watch again, which is just a nervous tic, I know.
Lights out at the Turnbulls’ is usually no later than ten. Michael rises with the sun, and Penley sees the benefit of a good night’s sleep strictly from a cosmetic point of view. God forbid she ever has bags under her eyes.
Still, I cool my heels for another fifteen minutes. One last chance, perhaps, to come to my senses.
The chance passes.
Thumbing through my keys, I find the one Penley gave me when I first began working for her. I distinctly recall her saying something snotty and condescending about it being a symbol of trust. What, like I’m going to use it to break in one night?
The key clutched tightly in my hand, I gingerly approach the door and its solid brass lock. Turning my wrist ever so slowly, I try to dull the inevitable snap of the dead bolt. It’s so quiet around me in the hallway. Too quiet. I’m afraid even the slightest noise will wake everyone.
The lock cooperates – barely a sound – and I step inside. I can’t see a thing at first. It’s pitch-black, but I know the apartment so well it wouldn’t matter if I were blindfolded.
This is so insane. What am I doing?
Crossing the foyer, I walk down the long hallway to the bedrooms.