You've Been Warned

“I’m fine. A little tired, I guess.”

She gives me that “just us girls” smirk. “Late evening, huh?”

And a rough morning to boot. Of course, I’m not about to let on to anything, not with her. “No, it was pretty quiet,” I say.

“That reminds me. Maria said you called last night. Did you need to talk to me about something?”

Thanks, Maria!

I hesitate, thinking fast.

“Oh, that,” I say. “It was a false alarm. I thought I’d left my cell phone here.”

She seems to buy it, nodding anyway. This is some game we’re playing here, the Pencil and I.

“By the way, how was your dinner?” I ask.

“Pardon?” Point, Kristin.

“You and Mr. Turnbull. Maria told me you went out to dinner. Just the two of you?”

“Yes. It was very nice, thank you,” she says. “We don’t do it enough. The two of us, no kids.” Point, Pencil.

“Is he at his office now?”

As soon as the question leaves my lips, I regret it. I’ve never asked her where Michael is; why would I now? Dumb, dumb, dumb.

Sure enough, Penley gives me a quizzical look. “Where else would he be?”

Chapter 95

IT’S A VERY GOOD, very logical question and just about the only thing I’m thinking about as I walk Dakota and Sean to school.

That is, until Sean interrupts me with one of his own questions. A real doozy too.

“Miss Kristin, am I going to die?”

I’m stunned. By the question and its timing. Why ask that now, Sean?

The sweetness in his voice brings a lump to my throat. For the second time this morning, I can barely breathe.

I try to fake a reassuring smile for him. “Sean, honey, why would you ask that?”

“Because Timmy Rockwell at school said I was going to die. Dakota too. Is he right?”

I need to be careful how I answer. Five-year-olds can be so impressionable. I don’t want to scare him, but I also don’t want to lie.

In the meantime, Dakota couldn’t care less either way. Seven-year-olds have no need for tact. “Everybody dies, stupid!” she says.

Sean squeezes my hand hard. I can feel how frightened he is about this.

“Is that true, Miss Kristin? Does everybody die?”

I stop walking and kneel down, pulling the two of them close to me. “No one gets to live forever, Sean. But you don’t have to be scared, because you’re going to be alive for a very, very long and wonderful time.”

He blinks slowly. “Really? I am? And Mommy and Daddy? And you, Miss Kristin?”

“Yes, of course. And that goes for you too, princess,” I say, giving Dakota a poke in the belly.

“What about Timmy Rockwell?” asks Sean. “He’s mean, so will he die sooner?”

I smile. “It doesn’t quite work like that. Mean has nothing to do with it.”

“It should,” he says.

I throw my arms around them both again, and for a moment the island of Manhattan is just the three of us. Three. A much better number than four.

“Okay, c’mon,” I say, standing up. “We’re going to be late for school, and that is unacceptable.”

I grab their hands—but I don’t walk a step.

“What’s wrong, Miss Kristin?” asks Sean.

“Yeah,” says Dakota. “Why aren’t we moving?”

The answer is staring at us from across the street. We’re no longer alone.

The Ponytail is back.

“Hey!” I yell. “Hey! You! Hey, I’m talking to you.”

Where I get the courage—or is it stupidity?—to bark at a guy who’s been scaring the bejesus out of me, I don’t know. That is him, though, isn’t it?

He ducks around the corner, but yes, I’m almost sure that’s who it was. I’d be even surer if there hadn’t been something blocking his face.

Of all things... a camera.

“Are you okay, Miss Kristin?” asks Dakota, showing real concern. “Who was that? He looked scary.”

“Nobody, nothing... Yeah, I’m fine, honey,” I say. “Let’s get going.”

I want to run but I know I can’t. Not with the kids in tow. So we walk. Nice and easy, as we always do.

The only difference is that I’m looking back over my shoulder every ten seconds or so, a nervous wreck again.

Where are you, Ponytail?

What do you want?

With me?

With these kids?

What’s with the camera?

Chapter 96

THERE’S NO SIGN of the Ponytail and his camera now. Not on crowded Fifth Avenue. Not along Madison, not in front of the gates of the Preston Academy. I’ve got one sore and twisted neck to prove it.

I hug Sean and Dakota again, extra hard. I don’t want to let go. “I’ll see you right here this afternoon. Like always, okay?”

“Are you sure everything’s all right?” asks Dakota. “Are you sure, Miss Kristin?” She looks worried. About me. It’s sweet.

“Sure, I’m sure! Never been better,” I boast, forcing a bright smile. “Now, go have a great day!”

I don’t bother with a wink and neither do the kids. I just don’t have any cuteness in me today.

They both nod their little heads and scamper off across the tree-lined courtyard, bounding up the stone front steps to the school. So many mornings I’ve stood watching Dakota and Sean from this exact spot.

I’m about to turn away when I see them stop on the top step and look back. In unison, they wave to me, their smiles curled wide.

I want to cry, and I almost do. But I just wave in return, fighting back the tears.

With them safely inside, the tears come. Then I do one more three sixty, searching for the Ponytail.

Still don’t see him. The bastard. The creep. Is he dead too—like Delmonico?

Out of nowhere, the song is back in my head. I even catch a word, or I think I do—game? “What is that goddamn song?” I mutter as a couple of passersby stare at me.

I wipe my eyes dry, then check my watch while reaching for my cell phone. It’s high time I track down that other disappearing man in my life.

At the very least, Michael’s secretary will be there now to answer my call. And after three rings, she picks up.

“Michael Turnbull’s office.”

“Hi, is he there, please?”

“May I ask who’s calling?”

“This is Kristin Burns. The Turnbulls’ nanny? Is this Amanda?”

“Yes, hi, Kristin,” she says. “I take it you’re not at their home, are you?”

“No, why do you ask?”