Page 93 of The Housemaid
“Millie!”
I take another step back, as if he could reach through the door and grab me. But he can’t. I’m safe on the other side of the door.
“Millie.” His voice is a low growl now. “Let me out of hereright now.”
My heart is beating fast in my chest. It’s the same way I felt when I walked into that bedroom all those years ago and found Kelsey screaming at that asshole football player,Get off of me!And Duncan was laughing drunkenly. I stood there for a second, my body paralyzed as my chest filled with rage. He was so much bigger than either one of us—it wasn’t like I could pull him off of her. The room was dark and I felt around on the desk until my hands made contact with a paperweight and…
I will never forget that day. How good it felt to smash the paperweight against that bastard’s skull until he became still. It was almost worth all those years in prison. After all, who knows how many other girls I saved from him?
“I’ll let you out,” I say. “Just notyet.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” The outrage in his voice is palpable. “This ismyhouse. You can’t keep me hostage here. And you’re a criminal. All I have to do is call the police and you’re right back in jail.”
“Right,” I say. “But how can you call the police when I have your phone?”
I look down at the screen of his phone. I can see him standing there, in vivid color. I can even see how red his face is from the pepper spray and the tears on his cheeks. He checks his pockets, then scans the floor with his swollen eyes.
“Millie,” he says in a slow, controlled voice. “I want my phone back.”
I let out a hoarse laugh. “I’m sure you do.”
“Millie, give me my phone back right now.”
“Hmm. I don’t think you’re in any position to be makingdemands.”
“Millie.”
“Just a moment.” I slip his phone into my pocket. “I’m going to grab a bite to eat. I’ll be backrealsoon.”
“Millie!”
He’s still calling my name as I walk down the hall and go downstairs. I ignore him. There’s nothing he can do when he’s stuck in that room. And I have to figure out my next move.
The first thing I do is exactly what I said I was going to do—I go to the kitchen, where I drink two heaping glasses of water. Then I make myself a bologna sandwich. No, notabalone. Bologna. With lots of mayonnaise, and white bread. After I’ve got some food in my belly, I feel a lot better. I can finally think straight.
I pick up Andrew’s phone. He is still in the attic room, pacing back and forth. Like a caged animal. If I were to let him out, I can’t even imagine what he would do to me. The thought of it makes a cold sweat break out at the back of my neck. While I’m watching him, a text message pops up on his phone from “Mom.”
Are you going to serve Nina with divorce papers?
I scroll through some of the previous messages. Andrew has told his mother all about his falling-out with Nina. I’ve got to answer her, because if he doesn’t, she might come over here—and then I’m screwed. Nobody can suspect something has happened to Andrew.
Yes. Just speaking with my lawyer right now.
The reply from Andrew’s mother comes back almost instantly:
Good. I never liked her. And I always did the best I could with Cecelia, but Nina was extremely lax on discipline and the little girl became quite a brat.
I get a jab of sympathy in my chest for Nina and Cecelia. It’s bad enough that Andrew’s mother never liked Nina. But to speak that way of her own grandchild? And I wonder what Andrew’s mother had in mind for “discipline.” If it’s anything like Andy’s idea of punishment, I’m glad Nina never went through with it.
My hands are trembling as I type my reply:
Looks like you were right about Nina.
Now I have to deal with that asshole.
I shove his phone back in my pocket, then I climb the stairs to the second floor, then all the way up to the attic. When I get to the top floor, the footsteps in the attic room go silent. He must’ve heard me.
“Millie,” he says.
