The Housemaid (The Housemaid, #1)

by Freida McFadden

There’s something about this room that’s making a little ball of dread form in the pit of my stomach.

Is there something wrong with me that I am scared this nine-year-old girl is going to murder me?

I look back one last time at the landscaper in the yard, and he is still watching me. 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. But he doesn’t say a word.

As Nina and I exchange details about tomorrow, I wonder if she would feel the same way about me if she knew I spent the last ten years of my life in prison.

“Why…” I clear my throat. “Why is the lock to this bedroom on the outside rather than the inside?”

As I shut the door, I notice marks in the wood. Long thin lines running down the length of the door at about the level of my shoulder. I run my fingers over the indentations. They almost seem like… Scratches. Like somebody was scraping at the door. Trying to get out.