CHAPTER I Mary: February 2005 I t’s a typically slow South Florida Sunday, and Mary’s staring into the mirror, trying to wipe the morning cobwebs away from her dark, sleepy eyes. She’s a pretty girl, tiny-just five feet three inches tall-but tanned and athletic, with curly black henna-streaked hair.* Her bedroom’s a playland of pinks and pastels, stuffed animals, and boy-band posters. But Mary’s a teenager now. Fourteen years old. She even has a boyfriend. He’s cute and popular. Joe’ is the heartthrob of her school, and Mary’s feelings for him are new to her, powerful, hard to untangle. She’s thinking of Joe as she presses the Play button on her iPod. The MP3 player’s on shuffle. There’s no telling what song will¶
- Mary’s name, some identifying details, and dialogue have been changed. ’ Joe’s name, some identifying details, and dialogue have been changed. 3 HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_009058
JAMES PATTERSON come up, and Mary’s head drops dramatically in anticipation. Then a loud, sexy throb spills out of the earbuds: Britney Spears. The bass line takes over, and she starts to dance, moving her hips as she lip-synchs the lyrics: With a taste of a poison paradise… Mary’s swept away by the song. She’s twirling around and around, flinging her arms out to grab the clothes hanging up in her closet-it’s like embracing ten thousand fans! Then she stops and pulls out the earbuds. Suddenly she’s become fourteen again. Just a girl, jittery, nervous. What she’s thinking about now is what she will wear to the big fancy house. Mary desperately wants to make an impression. This will be her first trip to the house. She does not want to look like a child on this outing. She picks out a pair of skinny white jeans, puts on a freshly washed halter top that leaves her flat stomach bare. The cross that Joe gave her last Christmas hangs from her neck. Think of the money, she thinks. For Mary, it’s incredible money. Several weeks’ wages at Mickey D’s. And just for giving some old man a massage? She twists the earbuds back in, dives into the closet, sings along with Britney Spears: Don’t you know that you’re toxic? The tight white jeans fit Mary perfectly. She turns to check herself out in the mirror, cropping the scene with her fingers to block out the Barbies b in big, high-ceilinged be with natural smiles, per dolls are beautiful. They if Mom and Dad are w mothers and fathers are you get Barbies-passe sister to sister. They’re ra of knowingness to the c American Girl dolls are Barbie’s dangling her lo from women. Be like Barbie, Mary 1 She can’t be nervous. What she tells hersel a deal. But, of course, it is a big fancy house will bec police investigation-ar the Palm Beach PD-ar the home’s owner, Jeffrey 4 HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_009059¶
ERSON FILTHY RICH dramatically in anticipation. of the earbuds: Britney Spears. : starts to dance, moving her … ng. She’s twirling around and rab the clothes hanging up in thousand fans! Then she stops ly she’s become fourteen again. w is what she will wear to the in impression. This will be her ot want to look like a child on white jeans, puts on a freshly r flat stomach bare. The cross angs from her neck. ney. Several weeks’ wages at some old man a massage? She nto the closet, sings along with c? y perfectly. She turns to check g the scene with her fingers to block out the Barbies behind her. Over on the Gold Coast, girls in big, high-ceilinged bedrooms have American Girl dolls. Dolls with natural smiles, perfectly vacant moon faces. American Girl dolls are beautiful. They’re expensive. But you have to have one if Mom and Dad are willing to pay. Over on the Coast, most mothers and fathers are. But out in the sticks, where Mary lives, you get Barbies-passed down from mother to daughter, from sister to sister. They’re rail-thin, missile-breasted. There’s a touch of knowingness to the curl of their otherwise innocent mouths. American Girl dolls are girlie, but Barbie’s like Britney Spears. Barbie’s dangling her long legs over the line that separates girls from women. Be like Barbie, Mary thinks. She can’t be nervous. Not now. Not today. What she tells herself, over and over again, is: It’s not that big a deal. But, of course, it is a big deal. Before long, Mary’s visit to the big fancy house will become part of a months-long Palm Beach police investigation-an affidavit for probable cause, filed by the Palm Beach PD-and, finally, the arrest and conviction of the home’s owner, Jeffrey Epstein. 5 HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_009060¶