It’s been months since someone last approached the house. It’s not an easy feat to achieve – you either have to scale the security gate with its iron spikes or clamber over the smooth limestone property wall in a Spider-Man feat of endurance. That is, unless you knew about my secret entrance, and no one does – only Antony.
The last time I had visitors, some drunk school kids managed to climb over the gate standing on each other’s shoulders. They dared each other to run up to the door, ring the bell, and kick in the CCTV cameras while the rest hid in the garden and screeched like banshees.
I let them carry on with their games for a bit, but they were freaking out my cat, so I flicked the lights on and off and they ran screaming. One impaled himself on the gate spikes and ended up in the hospital. He gave a tearful interview in the tabloids about how he was attacked by the Malloy ghost.
Attacked by his own stupidity, more like. But I’m not calling in for a correction. It serves my purpose to have people believe I’m a ghost.
BANG BANG BANG.
Kids aren’t knocking on my door at 10AM on a Tuesday morning.
No, this is the knock of someone who won’t leave until they get answers.
I drop onto the rug of the media room and pull myself to the edge of the cathedral windows overlooking the sprawling front lawn. My all-black cat, Queen Boudica, leaps off her cushion and creeps along beside me, chest flattened on the ground and ears back. She thinks this is a game – we’re working together to stalk our prey.
Perhaps there’s truth to that.
At the window, I crane my neck to the side until I can see the figure standing on the porch, his dark uniform contrasted between the towering white columns. He looks completely out of place amongst the faux Grecian marble statuary and weird succulents in the garden – those stupid plants are taking over the place even though I never bother to water them.
Even from this distance, his uniform is unmistakable.
A police officer.
Triple shit.
Behind him, I can see the security gate swinging freely. The officer must have forced it somehow. I’ll have to get Antony to come and repair it.
My fingers touch the glass as I study the officer – all square jaw and swaggering authority, one hand resting on his holster as he leans in to rap on the door again. In neighborhoods like this – a ritzy street of glittering mansions overlooking Emerald Beach from the top of Harrington Hills – police aren’t feared. They keep the riffraff out.
But I’m not your ordinary Valley Girl – I have my reasons for staying hidden.
For now.
I trace the officer’s outline on the glass, willing him to turn around and leave. Even though I haven’t made a sound, the officer’s head snaps up, his eyes landing on mine. I snap my head back from the window, my heart pounding.
It’s too late. He’s seen me.
“I know you’re in there,” he shouts. “Answer the door – it’s the police.”
His voice carries an unspoken threat. Queen Boudica tips her head at me and lifts a paw as if asking what I plan to do next. I debate my options. If I ignore him, he’ll come back with reinforcements. But if I go down there, I might be able to bullshit my way out of whatever trouble I’m in. Antony does always say bullshit is my second name.
It’s no problem. You can do this. You’re Mackenzie Malloy.
I pull a Gucci hoodie over my workout gear and pad through the house. It takes me a good five minutes to navigate through the hallways to the grand staircase that leads down into the foyer. I pass gilded side-tables and weird blown glass art, all covered in layers of dust. Is it too much to hope that the cop will get sick of waiting and leave?
No such luck. I can see his shadow outlined through the frosted glass. He stands on the porch, arms folded, as I crack the door. The chain bites, and I give him the classic Mackenzie Malloy hair toss and withering stare.
“You’ve broken into private property,” I bark at him – it’s not a question. It’s an accusation.
“Ma’am, I’m here to inform you that you’re occupying this house illegally.”
I toss my head so my golden blonde hair falls down my back, and I laugh. I