in Roz’s username and replied to the conversation as Roz. ‘Oh. Congratulations. That’s wonderful news. Don’t worry about me. I’ve got other couples to talk to. Can I still use the hotel room?’
Sheridan checked the time on her computer screen before quickly logging back in as Julie. ‘Of course, that goes without saying! And please, have your meals and room service with my compliments, too. I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to help you interview the couples, as I prefer to keep my identity private. I hope you understand.’
Fingers clacking on the keyboard, Sheridan logged back in as Roz. A sheen of sweat broke out on her forehead. She was running out of time, but it needed to be done.
‘No worries,’ she typed, recalling some of the Irish terms Daniel’s mother used to use in an effort to sound like Roz. ‘Thanks a million for the hotel room. I’ll be grand. Congrats again on your baby. It’ll be lucky to have you as a mom.’
Sheridan paused, reading over their conversation. She knew the Miracle-Moms site might be able to access deleted files, but thanks to her anti-spyware program, they would not trace her computer IP address. She pressed a button and a message flashed on to the screen. Are you sure you want to delete your account? Sheridan paused before pressing enter. There. It was done. There was no turning back now.
Sheridan rose, wishing she could quieten her negative thoughts. She looked down at her hands, noticing the slight tremble that had returned. A glimpse of a memory broke free: of when her fingers were laced with blood.
Ten, nine, eight. She closed her eyes, counting backwards in her mind. Seven, six, five . . . She took a slow breath, just as she had done a thousand times before. Four, three, two, one . . . She opened her eyes and turned to the apartment window to see her driver pulling up to the kerb on the street below. They were here. Sheridan fixed a smile. It was time to greet her guests.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
ROZ
‘Are you ready?’
George turned to me as the car pulled up. The corners of his eyes crinkled but there was tension behind his smile. I used to think that celebrities had no real worries in life. I was slowly discovering that fame brought its own set of problems. It must be hard, not knowing who to trust.
‘I’m fine,’ I smiled. ‘Can’t wait to meet them.’
I was sitting on my hands, desperate to keep my nerves at bay. I had a habit of picking my nails and could do without George’s disapproving glare. I’d used the journey to pull myself together, projecting an appearance of normality. Of someone in control. But inside, the steady beat of my heart was pounding in my chest. I was about to meet two of the highest-paid celebrities in the world. And while some people might not be fazed by the rich and famous, to me it was a huge deal. Just enjoy it, I told myself. And I would. Sitting forward, I waited to get out of the car.
After checking his phone, George leaned forward and hissed into my ear. ‘You’re being watched. Let the driver open the door and keep your knees together when you get out.’
His words were delivered like bullets, his breath cold on my skin. I stiffened. I was being watched? By whom? But I had little time to register my surprise as a blast of fresh air whooshed through the open car door. I exited with as much grace as I could muster, resisting the urge to look up as we headed towards the building. Was there really someone watching me? How did George know?
He took my elbow, ushering me up the steps. The entrance was grand, flanked by security and with a reception worthy of a five-star hotel. After being cleared by a couple of uniformed security guards, I followed George as he strode down a corridor on the ground floor. Every surface sparkled and the faint smell of fresh linen hung on the air. It was not an overpowering smell, like the air fresheners we used at home, but a delicate scent, lightly carried. I cleared my throat, feeling as if I’d swallowed a cup of sand. I couldn’t remember when I’d last had a drink. I checked my watch. It was five-thirty on the dot.
A sturdy-looking Spanish lady answered the door. She was wearing a maid’s uniform and a slight scowl on her