The Housemaid (The Housemaid, #1)

by Freida McFadden

I may be over ten years younger than the woman sitting across from me, but I don’t want her to feel at all threatened by me. So for my interview,

She turns the doorknob, which creaks loudly. I can’t help but notice the wood of this door is much thicker than any of the others.

lit by two naked bulbs suspended from the ceiling.

But there’s something else about this room. Something that’s bothering me.

Maybe it’s the window. It looks out on the back of the house. If I were in trouble and trying to get somebody’s attention, nobody would be able to see me back here. I could scream and yell all I wanted, and nobody would hear.

And she’s staring at me like she can see right through me. Right through my soul.

Okay, I’m being ridiculous. That little girl is probably extremely sweet. It’s not her fault she’s been dressed in a creepy Victorian ghost-child’s outfit.

She clucks her tongue. “Please, call me Nina. If you’re working here, I would feel so silly with you calling me Mrs. Winchester.” She laughs. “Like I’m some sort of rich old lady.” “Thank you… Nina,” I say.

There’s something in his expression that sends a chill down my spine. And then he shakes his head, almost imperceptibly. Almost like he’s trying to warn me.

It’s also hard not to notice that he is several levels more attractive than his wife, even with her impeccable grooming, which strikes me as a bit strange.

I take a deep breath, trying to slow down my breathing. I’ll get the glass cleaned up and it will be fine. Nina will never know. But I’ll have to be more careful in the future.

“You… you get out, Millie,” he

He looks back up at the stairwell again, a troubled expression on his face. Then he shakes his head, and before I can stop him to try to figure out what he means, he’s hurried out the front door.