Read Online Run for Your Life by James Patterson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: James Patterson
Tags: Fiction, General, thriller, Suspense, Thrillers, American Mystery & Suspense Fiction, Suspense fiction, Mystery, Serial Murderers, Fiction - Espionage, Rich people
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living room, Trent and Ricky were still loudly squabbling over PlayStation rights. Not to be outdone, Chrissy and Fiona had become locked in a DVD death match at their bedroom computer. The old, overworked washing machine accompanied the yells, thundering from the kitchen as if a full rehearsal of the musical Stomp was under way.
Mary Catherine jumped back as a small, yowling, vomit–colored object streaked between her feet. She stared at it, refusing to believe her eyes. But it was true.
Somebody had just thrown up on Socky, the cat.
Amid all the clamor, she could hardly hear the phone ringing. Her first thought was to let the machine pick it up. The last thing she needed was another hassle. But then she decided, The heck with it. Things couldn’t get worse. She stepped over to the wall phone and lifted it off the hook.
“Bennett residence,” she half screamed.
The caller was a woman who spoke in a clipped, no–nonsense tone. “This is Sister Sheilah from Holy Name.”
Oh, Lord, Mary Catherine thought — the kids’ principal. This was not going to be good news. Well, it served her right for taunting fate.
The din seemed, if anything, to be getting even louder. She glanced around, trying to think of a quick way to quiet it. Then inspiration hit.
“Yes, Sister. This is Mary Catherine, the children’s au pair. Could you hold on one second?”
She calmly set down the phone, got the stepladder out of the pantry, and climbed up to the electrical box on the wall beside the door. As she unscrewed each of the four fuses, the noise abruptly stopped — the TV, the computer game, the washing machine, and finally, the voices.
Mary Catherine picked up the phone again and said, “Sorry, Sister. I’ve a bit of a mutiny on my hands here. What can I do for you?”
She closed her eyes as the principal curtly informed her that Shawna and Brian, half of the Bennett faction that Mary Catherine had managed to get out the door this morning, had “become ill.” They were in the school nurse’s office and had to be picked up immediately.
Perfect, she thought. Mike was involved in something too serious to break away from, and she couldn’t leave the little ones here alone.
She assured Sister Sheilah that she’d have someone pick up the latest casualties as soon as humanly possible, and she called Mike’s grandfather, Seamus. This time, fate relented. He was available to go get them right away.
Mary Catherine had just finished talking to him when Ricky, Trent, Fiona, and Chrissy wandered into the kitchen with a chorus of complaints.
“The TV stopped!”
“So’d my computer!”
“Yeah, like — everything.”
“Must be a power blackout,” Mary Catherine said, shrugging. “Nothing to be done about it.” She rummaged in the utility drawer and took out a deck of cards. “Have you guys ever played blackjack?”
Ten minutes later, the kitchen island had become a card table with Trent as the dealer and the others squinting at their hands. The noise level was reduced to the little guys counting out loud and grappling with the rules. Mary Catherine smiled. She wasn’t one to encourage gambling, but she was pleased to see them having fun without batteries. She decided to make sure the entertainment devices were turned off, then screw the fuses back in so she could finish the laundry and make soup. They’d be too absorbed to notice.
But first, there was an important matter to take care of. Socky was still complaining piteously and trying to rub its vomit–stained coat against her ankles. She gingerly lifted the cat by the back of the neck.
“You’ll thank me in the long run,” she said, and carried it, clawing the air in furious protest, to the kitchen sink.
Chapter 19
“You must be a cop, because you certainly don’t look like a customer,” a young woman called to me as I was exiting the Polo store.
Well, if it isn’t Cathy Calvin, intrepid Times police reporter and all–around pain in the
Mary Catherine jumped back as a small, yowling, vomit–colored object streaked between her feet. She stared at it, refusing to believe her eyes. But it was true.
Somebody had just thrown up on Socky, the cat.
Amid all the clamor, she could hardly hear the phone ringing. Her first thought was to let the machine pick it up. The last thing she needed was another hassle. But then she decided, The heck with it. Things couldn’t get worse. She stepped over to the wall phone and lifted it off the hook.
“Bennett residence,” she half screamed.
The caller was a woman who spoke in a clipped, no–nonsense tone. “This is Sister Sheilah from Holy Name.”
Oh, Lord, Mary Catherine thought — the kids’ principal. This was not going to be good news. Well, it served her right for taunting fate.
The din seemed, if anything, to be getting even louder. She glanced around, trying to think of a quick way to quiet it. Then inspiration hit.
“Yes, Sister. This is Mary Catherine, the children’s au pair. Could you hold on one second?”
She calmly set down the phone, got the stepladder out of the pantry, and climbed up to the electrical box on the wall beside the door. As she unscrewed each of the four fuses, the noise abruptly stopped — the TV, the computer game, the washing machine, and finally, the voices.
Mary Catherine picked up the phone again and said, “Sorry, Sister. I’ve a bit of a mutiny on my hands here. What can I do for you?”
She closed her eyes as the principal curtly informed her that Shawna and Brian, half of the Bennett faction that Mary Catherine had managed to get out the door this morning, had “become ill.” They were in the school nurse’s office and had to be picked up immediately.
Perfect, she thought. Mike was involved in something too serious to break away from, and she couldn’t leave the little ones here alone.
She assured Sister Sheilah that she’d have someone pick up the latest casualties as soon as humanly possible, and she called Mike’s grandfather, Seamus. This time, fate relented. He was available to go get them right away.
Mary Catherine had just finished talking to him when Ricky, Trent, Fiona, and Chrissy wandered into the kitchen with a chorus of complaints.
“The TV stopped!”
“So’d my computer!”
“Yeah, like — everything.”
“Must be a power blackout,” Mary Catherine said, shrugging. “Nothing to be done about it.” She rummaged in the utility drawer and took out a deck of cards. “Have you guys ever played blackjack?”
Ten minutes later, the kitchen island had become a card table with Trent as the dealer and the others squinting at their hands. The noise level was reduced to the little guys counting out loud and grappling with the rules. Mary Catherine smiled. She wasn’t one to encourage gambling, but she was pleased to see them having fun without batteries. She decided to make sure the entertainment devices were turned off, then screw the fuses back in so she could finish the laundry and make soup. They’d be too absorbed to notice.
But first, there was an important matter to take care of. Socky was still complaining piteously and trying to rub its vomit–stained coat against her ankles. She gingerly lifted the cat by the back of the neck.
“You’ll thank me in the long run,” she said, and carried it, clawing the air in furious protest, to the kitchen sink.
Chapter 19
“You must be a cop, because you certainly don’t look like a customer,” a young woman called to me as I was exiting the Polo store.
Well, if it isn’t Cathy Calvin, intrepid Times police reporter and all–around pain in the