Free Burn (Michael Bennett 7) by James Patterson

town. The color red. The finest French restaurant in the city, then the Plaza. We’re going to do this.”
    Mary Catherine laughed as the elevator door closed.
    A strange sound greeted me as I tiptoed through the darkened apartment and opened the door of my bedroom. Someone was crying. What the heck? What could be wrong now?
    It was actually two someones. I threw on the light to find Chrissy and Shawna camped out on my bedroom chair in their pajamas, cheeks tear-soaked, whimpering.
    “What is it, girls?” I said, rushing over to them. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
    “No, Daddy. It’s not that,” Shawna said, sobbing. “It’s just so sad.”
    “What’s so sad? Why are you crying?”
    “We miss them, Daddy. We miss them so much,” Chrissy said.
    “Who?”
    “Flopsy, Mopsy, and Desiree,” said Shawna.
    “And Homer,” Chrissy said. “Poor, poor Homer. He must be so lonely.”
    I shook my head. Of course. If it wasn’t one thing it was another. My nutty kids were missing Mr. Cody’s farm animals from our California safe house.
    “It’s OK, girls,” I said, sitting down between them. “I’m sure the animals are fine. Maybe tomorrow we can e-mail Mr. Cody and have him send us a picture.”
    “Or a FaceTime?” Shawna said, wiping at her brightening eyes.
    “Hooray, yes! Can we FaceTime with Homer, Daddy? Can we? Can we?” Chrissy said.
    FaceTime with a chicken? I thought, rubbing my temples. Will this day never end?
    “We’ll see. Now, please, back to bed. You have school in the morning.”
    “No, Daddy. We can’t sleep in our beds,” Chrissy said. “The big girls sent us away when we started crying.”
    “And the door is so creaky,” Shawna said. “They’ll just be mad again if we wake them up.”
    “Where are you going to sleep, then?”
    They sat there blinking up at me with their sugar-frosted-cupcake eyes.
    “No,” I said, knowing that look. “Don’t worry about the creaky door. Go back to your room and your own beds.”
    But it was no use. They kept staring, kept twinkling.
    I let out a breath.
    “Fine,” I growled. “Just this once because you’re so sad, I guess. Go get your pillows.”
    “We already brought them,” Shawna said, pulling them out from the other side of the bed.
    “Of course you did. How convenient. Anyway, now, here’s the rules. No nugglance or poking or combing Daddy’s hair, and most of all, no giggling and tickling. If you wish to sleep here, we will sleep. Do I make myself clear?”
    They stared at me, biting their little lips to stifle the giggles that had already started. How did I get myself into these things?
    I washed up and got into my pj’s and lay down. Then I sneezed as something furry scrubbed up against my left nostril.
    “What the—!” I said as I shot up to a barrage of hysterical giggling.
    I clicked on the light. It was the stupid cat!
    “Put Socky out of this bed, Chrissy. This bed has a strict no-cat policy. No means no. Get him out of here!”
    “But Socky misses Touchdown and Flopsy, Mopsy, and Desiree, too,” said Chrissy.
    “No, Socky misses the rodents, and most of all, those delicious birds,” I said as I placed the cat on the floor and put the pillow over my head.
    “That’s so mean, Daddy,” Chrissy said. “Homer is a bird and Socky is my friend. Socky would die before he hurt even one feather on Homer’s head.”
    Wanna bet? I thought.
    “Mean Daddy,” Shawna agreed with another giggle.
    “Please, girls. Mean Daddy has work tomorrow and just wants some sleep, OK? Just a little sleep, pretty please,” I said as I felt the cat leap back up onto the bed and use the back of my left leg for a scratching post.
    I shook my leg free and was about to get rid of the cat again but then wisely resigned myself. I closed my weary eyes and pictured room service breakfast at the Plaza. As I fell asleep, I pictured Mary Catherine in a white bathrobe raising a mimosa as the sun came up over Central Park.

CHAPTER 20
     
    I