A sign hung outside the next room, about the size of an ashtray, with cartoon cats and rabbits on it, and ‘PRINCESSBROOKLYN’SCASTLE!’ in happy pink letters.
Unlike the last two bedrooms, this one looked lived in. Sort of. The bed was clarted in fuzzy unicorns and teddybears and lions and tigers and penguins – their black, button eyes glittered in the night-vision glow. Rainbow-and-flowers wallpaper. Little birdies on the closed curtains. A dollhouse that looked way too posh to play with. And a large, stuffed Skeleton Bob sitting in a wicker chair in the corner. Grinning.
The place was spookily clean and ordered and tidy. No toys lying out. No clothes strewn willy-nilly. No pens and pencils. No Lego landmines waiting to be stepped on...
Like a shrine to a long dead kid.
Andrew shook his head.
Sighed.
Guess some people were just creepy.
But a woman with kids wasalwaysa juicier prospect.
He tiptoed back out into the corridor.
The last door on this side of the landing was unmarked, but when he opened it, Andrew’s grin matched the one printed on his ski-mask.Finally: the master bedroom.
He slunk inside, leaving the door open behind him.
It was much larger than the other three, with framed photos on the walls, and a pair of doors leading off on either side of a king-sized bed – a big heavy wooden one, that looked like someone had sawn the top three foot off a four-poster. In fact, every bit of furniture in here waswayswankier than the flat-pack crap in the other rooms. Three chests of drawers were arranged around the walls, along with a vanity unit festooned with bottles and jars and tubs and tubes. All of which probably cost a small fortune in their own right.
Muchmore like it.
Andrew helped himself to a few of the more expensive-looking ones. Then tried the door on the left side of the bed: a walk-in closet, bigger than Andrew’s whole bedroom, stuffed full of stylish clothes and elegant shoes. Hanging on rails, displayed in racks, folded neatly on shelves.
Nah.
The other door opened on an en suite done up to look dark and opulent. The kind of place you could spend a few hours soaking in your claw-foot tub, drinking champagne, surrounded by bubbles. One of those sinks that were carved out of a big slab of solid rock.
He leaned on the cold granite surface and popped open the medicine cabinet. Grinning behind his mask’s grin, becausethisone was full of goodies.
‘Yummy, yummy.Thank you, Mummy.’
He picked through the boxes of prescription pills, pocketing anything that might come in handy later: Temazepam, Oxycodone, and a half-empty thing of Tramadol.
Because sharing was caring.
Andrew checked the time on his phone – 23:54 – she’d be home soon. Better get a move on.
Back in the bedroom, he opened the first chest of drawers. Top drawer: scarves and boxed jewellery.
Even though it was impossible to tell what colour everything was in the night-vision goggles’ dark-green glow, it would all be stylish and expensive. And, OK, it went against the rules, but Mum’s birthday was coming up and while the jewellery was too dangerous to risk, bet she’d love some cashmere.
He pocketed the most attractive scarf, then moved on to the next drawer down.
Bras: plain, T-shirt, sports.
And a handful of more exotic, lacy numbers.
Mmmmmm...
Andrew held them up for a good look, turning them in his gloved fingers, picking the skimpiest frilliest item and stuffing it into his hoodie pocket.
Drawer Number Three held a vast array of pants.
Andrew licked his lips and trembled out a little breath, thenplunged his hands into their delicious softness. Working his fingers through them. Tugging at the elastic as that familiar warmth cupped itself around his cock. Stirring things up in anticipation of the big event.