Experiment in Terror 05.5 Old Blood by Karina Halle

very much forgotten and alone. I knew I could have gone back to Sweden, to Karl and perhaps I should have. But even though I couldn’t live with Ingrid, I couldn’t leave her either. I would stay in the city and try and keep an eye on her when I could, be there for her if she should ever need me, as unlikely as it was.
    The next day I took a cab from the hotel to the posh surroundings of a neighborhood on the rise and found myself in front of a narrow but tastefully decorated brownstone duplex. This was the home of the O’Shea’s.
    It had been a long time since I had a job interview and being in my fifties with a heap of unwanted life experience did nothing to squelch my nerves. I watched the cab drive off with butterflies in my heart and took a deep breath before I climbed the steps of the brownstone.
    I rang the doorbell and waited, admiring the good shape of the small porch area they had outside, the relative calm and ease that the eloquent but tightly packed neighborhood gave off.
    At first I heard nothing but the echo of the bell, then silence. No children laughing or crying, no stampede of feet. I checked my watch to ensure it was the right time and the right date and just before I pushed the bell again, the door swung open.
    On the other side stood a man well over six feet, with the darkest brown eyes I’d ever seen and though he was around my age, his hair was remarkably thick and free from grey hairs. His posture was straight, his clothes neatly pressed and immaculate, and even though he gave me a very winning smile, there was something closed-off and strained about him.
    “ You must be Pippa,” he said and offered his hand. “I’m Curtis O’Shea.”
    His accent was 100% Irish though he worked hard to make it more Americanized. I shook his hand in return and found it firm and quick.
    I greeted him and he ushered me inside.
    The house was very bare and tidy at the area around the door. There weren’t any signs of children, no shoes or toys scattered about. Even the walls had pastoral scenes of Ireland mixed with modern art, but there were no pictures of the family or a child’s art work proudly displayed.
    “ Thank you for agreeing to see me so quickly, we only put the ad out yesterday,” he said, walking past me and down the hall. He looked over his shoulder to make sure I was following.
    I quickly took off my shoes, not wanting to disturb the austerity of the area, and walked quietly after him. It felt like a house you couldn’t be loud in, a heavy feeling of tension sat in the air above our heads.
    “ Were there any other applicants?” I asked.
    “ A few. Come, let’s sit in the living room.”
    He went through an opening to his left and I came after. As I neared, I snuck a look into the kitchen across the way. It was an utter disaster with pots and pans piled high in the sink, army trucks and dinosaurs scattered about the floor and dripping stains coming off the high-gloss counters.
    Curtis caught me looking and I averted my eyes quickly. It was obviously something I wasn’t supposed to see, but then I suppose it would be my job to deal with messes like that.
    “ I’m not a very good caretaker,” he explained as I came in the room and he indicated I sit in on the sofa across from him. “You can see why we need a nanny.”
    I nodded, sitting down on the slick leather and folded my hands in my lap. I could see he was embarrassed. “Are you a single parent?”
    He gave me a quick smile, still handsome and still strained. “No. I am not. I have a wife, Régine. But…” He trailed off and did a quick sweep around the room with his eyes. “I’m an investment banker. I work very long hours and I’m not home often. Your job would be to take care of the children, cook their meals, clean the house…essentially do the job that Régine currently cannot.”
    I didn’t want to pry, but I had to know. “Is there something wrong with your wife?”
    He let out a sharp puff of air and tugged a bit