by Melissa Marr
I search the darkness around me for a weapon. I’ll fight him with whatever I can. I don’t find anything at first and then I feel my phone.
“Thank you. Thank you.”
I try to dial 911, but nothing happens. The phone works; the battery is good. There’s no signal, though.
I keep trying, hoping we were just passing through a dead zone, but nothing changes. I can’t make a call or send a text or email.
I have no cell signal, no weapon, and I’m trapped in a sweltering car trunk. Air conditioning apparently doesn’t blow into the trunk, and the mix of fear, heat, and motion makes me wonder if I’m going to throw up.
I hear the change and feel the thump as the car leaves the road. I’m jostled around and we go over what is either a dirt road, or no road at all. The realization that we’re leaving the road terrifies me. North Carolina is a state full of thick growth. Kudzu—a seemingly beautiful but incredibly destructive ivy-like vine—covers whole trees and buildings, drapes from utility poles, and it’s far from the only plant gone wild in this state. Whatever fate awaits me at the end of a dirt road isn’t one I want.
When the car stops, I still haven’t found anything to use as a weapon, and I feel increasingly horrible. The dizziness and headache are the least of my problems though. I opened the door to a killer, one who is now opening the trunk and looking at me.
I try to kick him, and he grabs my leg. “Don’t make me hurt you.”
“You . . . you’re him.” I know it’s true, but I need him to confirm it. “You killed them.”
“I sacrificed Amy, but yeah, I killed Micki and Madison.” Reid motions me out of the trunk.
I thought I couldn’t get any more afraid, but I was wrong. His words make me unable to breathe. I didn’t know Madison was dead. She was alive yesterday. I saw her yesterday. That means he killed someone today, someone I knew, someone he’s known his whole life. Sometime between driving me home yesterday afternoon and kidnapping me this morning, Reid killed Madison.
“Come on, Yeung. I haven’t got all day.”
As soon as my feet touch the ground, I start to run. My odds aren’t great, but they’re better than they will be if he locks me up somewhere. I have to try. I don’t get very far before he tackles me from behind. I’m pinned facedown in the dirt under him.
“Please don’t do that,” he says, his mouth next to my ear.
I fill with the same fear that I’m sure every girl has felt trapped under a boy. This sense of helplessness makes me start to buck and squirm to get away. I don’t scream at first, trying to save my breath for fighting, but when I can’t get him off my back, I open my mouth to scream too.
Reid clamps a hand over my mouth. “Don’t do that either.”
I remember the detective—and the picture she showed us. Amy had words carved into her skin. She was killed. I try to scream again, even though his hand is on my mouth.
“No!” Reid’s hand tightens over my mouth. He shoves his other arm under me, wrapping it around my waist, and he hauls me to my feet. I try to go limp, to use my body weight to throw him off balance and get free.
It doesn’t work. He pulls me tighter up against him. I try to squirm out of his hold, to kick my legs back at him, but it makes no difference.
I’m not sure what he’s going to do, but I’m certain it’s not something I want to find out either. I’m tired, and my head hurts, and I don’t know how to escape.
Then he drags me toward the car, and I realize that he’s parked outside a falling-down building that was hidden by trees and plants. It’s a cabin, the sort that I’ve been to for a few parties. It doesn’t look big; the size of the whole thing is more like a garage than a house. The windows are covered with plywood, and the outside looks like no one has been here in years. Kudzu covers the whole of it so densely that I’m not sure how we’ll get inside.
“Now, if you don’t try to run again, I won’t hurt you,” Reid says. “If you do, I will hurt you. Eva wouldn’t like that, so I’m trying not to do it. Do you understand?”
I can feel his breath on my ear, and I whimper despite myself.
“Nod if you understand.”
I’m not sure I could get free to run, and I realize that no one is near to hear my screams. I nod. I don’t know what else to do.
Reid uncovers my mouth, but he doesn’t release me.
He pushes aside the thick vines and reveals a metal door. With one arm still wrapped around my waist, he holds me against him as he fishes a key out of his trouser pocket. Then he unlocks a padlock that’s been shoved through a makeshift hinge someone—possibly Reid—welded onto the door.
When he opens the door, I gasp. It’s not what I expected at all. Inside, the little house is decorated almost like a home. I look around, hoping to find something I can use as a weapon against him. In the main room, there is a daybed with a pretty yellow duvet on it. I see a coffee table, rocking chair, and a few crates that serve as side tables. On the crates and table are camping lanterns. To the left is a kitchenette with a mini fridge, and an old-fashioned combination sink and stove.
More plywood covers the windows from the inside, but there are pictures on this side of it. My mouth falls open as I look at them. They’re all of Eva. I’m in some of them. Robert is too. There are others that are of groups. Some have been altered so that Reid is beside Eva even though I know he wasn’t really at her side there. He’s cut and pasted them or in some cases altered them digitally before printing them.
“Do you think she’ll like it?” His voice is still against my ear and neck because he has kept me in front of him. It’s like an embrace, and it’s adding to my steadily mounting fear.
I’m silent as he closes the door and puts the padlock on this side, locking us in together. Luckily, the increased darkness hides my expression. I don’t want to anger him by telling him that Eva—or anyone else in their right mind—would be horrified, so I reply, “I can’t imagine what she’ll say.”
“I don’t think she’d mind you being here. You’re special to her.” He pulls me toward the daybed and spins me around, so I am facing him. “Sit.”
Obeying him makes me want to scream, but being hip-to-hip with him seems awful too. I sit. I sit on the daybed facing the killer who has kidnapped me and brought me God knows where. He hasn’t stepped back, so I’m eye level with his crotch.
“I think I’m going to throw up,” I half whisper.
“Don’t!” He leans forward, reaching past me, and pulls a length of chain from beside the daybed. At the end of it is a leather dog collar. “Stay still.”
I can’t stop the tears that fall as he fastens it around my throat. He tucks a finger between the collar and my throat. “Is that too tight? Can you swallow?”
“Reid, you don’t have to—”
“Stop.” He holds up a smaller padlock so I can see it. “I’m going to put this through the rings. I bought this collar because it works with the lock.”
“Please,” I beg. “Just let me go.”
“I can’t. You’re how I’m going to get Eva to come to me.” Reid snaps the padlock onto the collar. I hear the click. Then he straightens and looks at me. “Now, if you need to puke, there’s a bucket for that or bathroom needs.” He motions to an old-fashioned wooden privacy screen that has cracks and few small holes in it. “Your chain reaches. I planned this for Eva, so I thought of everything.”
I don’t move. I can’t. I don’t know what I’m to do here. I’m chained up in a cabin with a crazy person who is obsessed with my best friend. I look around the rest of the room. It’s easier to make out a few other details, as Reid lights some camping lanterns. A water heater with rust-covered pipes sits in the far corner where the privacy screen is. I see that the chain snakes toward it, and is attached to a thick pipe that extends into the ceiling. A doorway to at least one other room is to my right. I wonder what’s in there.
After a moment, I ask, “What are you going to do to me?”
“Noth
ing, I hope . . . unless you mean you want to do something? I looked up some people you went to school with in Philadelphia and emailed them. I know your secrets, Grace. You’re more like Amy than most people in Jessup know.”
I remember him saying he “sacrificed” Amy, so I try to be careful in my words. “I don’t . . . I can’t do that sort of thing.”
“Sex?”
I nod.
Reid looks upward at the ceiling. “This is part of the test, isn’t it? I get it. I need to wait for Eva. Prove my worthiness. Fine.” He looks at me again. “Maybe after Eva gets here you’ll change your mind.”
There is no answer here that seems safe, so I say nothing. I’ve never been as terrified as I am here in this place with him. I don’t know how he expects to get Eva here, and I certainly don’t want her imprisoned too. What I want is someone to get me out of here.
“I don’t want to die, Reid,” I whisper.
He nods. “I understand. I hope you don’t have to. It would upset Eva.” He smiles and walks over to a bag in the rocking chair. He unzips it, digs around inside, and pulls out a black collar with a little rectangular box on it. Then he pulls out what looks like a remote control with an antenna on it. “If you’re good, we can switch from the leash to a training collar. It’s supposed to work on dogs up to large breeds, and I don’t think you weigh as much as some of them.”
I can’t even speak right now. He’s crazy, absolutely, completely, dangerously crazy.
Smiling, he walks over to me with the shock collar. “I can’t use it when I’m out, but when I’m here, we could try it. It’ll be tricky if you and Eva are both here and I need to leave. Maybe I’ll pick up a second chain and collar while I’m out.”
I close my eyes for a second. This cannot be happening—all because I opened my door. That was all I did. I opened my door to a boy I’ve known for a few years, a boy who drove me home yesterday, a boy who has hit on me at parties and joked with me at school. Now, I’m chained up listening to him explain the appeal of a shock collar instead of a chain.
This sort of thing is not supposed to happen, not anywhere, but especially not in Jessup, North Carolina.
Reid puts the collar and remote back in the bag and then he walks out of my line of sight through the unknown doorway, vanishing farther into the house. I hope he’ll stay gone, but in a few minutes he comes back. He’s no longer wearing trousers or a shirt. Instead, he’s barefoot and wearing a pair of gym shorts. I’ve seen him and the rest of the guys in the same thing countless times. What draws my attention are the fingernail scratches on the base of his throat. Someone—presumably Madison—fought with him. I stare at him with mounting terror. Fighting him didn’t help her. She’s dead. I don’t want to die too.
Reid is silent as he opens a package of wet wipes. He moves the black bag to the floor, sits in the chair, and starts wiping his face, arms, and chest. I watch as he drops one of the wipes on the floor. It’s not just mud he’s wiping from his skin. There’s blood too. I realize with another wave of horror that it’s probably Madison’s, too.
After a few minutes, he walks over to the daybed and sits down beside me.
“Sit still, Grace. I don’t want Eva to be upset when she sees you, and you look like you were rolling in the mud.”
If I could stop staring at the blood on the wipes on the floor, maybe I would try to stop him from wiping my face and arms, but all I can think about is Madison’s blood. He killed a girl this morning, and now he’s cleaning mud from my skin.
“I’ve always liked you, Grace,” he says, wiping my cheek. “You’re a good friend to Eva.”
“Thank you.”
He tosses the wipe toward the others on the floor. “I’m tired.”
I swallow and force myself to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Reid nods. “It’s been a difficult day.” He walks back to the bag and pulls out a Jessup High T-shirt, a sports bottle, and a cup. He pours some into the cup and walks back toward me. The shirt is in his other hand. “I need you to drink this, so we can nap.”
“Please,” I whisper. “I can nap in the other room or the floor. Please?”
“Relax. It’ll just make you sleepy.” He holds it out to me.
When I don’t speak or move, he adds, “I can make you drink it, but I don’t want to upset Eva. I explained that already, didn’t I?” He doesn’t sound calm or gentle now. His words are sharp. I’ve heard him like this countless times, and it didn’t scare me. That was before I realized he was a killer.
“Please don’t hurt me,” I beg. “You can nap without doing this. I promise.”
He stares at me. “Eventually, I’ll be able to, but not yet. My father kept his girlfriend here. He brought me to meet her when we were all in elementary school. Not you. You weren’t here yet. Anyhow . . . He explained how long it takes to build trust. He brought me here to meet the next girlfriend too. They changed and trusted him, but it takes time.” He wiggles the cup a little. “Eva’s the girl for me, but we’ll talk about you once she comes to me. I thought she trusted me without this. I thought I could do it better than my father, but it didn’t work.”
“Maybe she didn’t know that you felt—”
“No!” Reid yells. “I sent messages. I did everything she wanted . . .” He takes a breath, smiles at me, and sounds calm again when he continues, “Bouchet is the problem. Once he’s gone, Eva will be better.”
I try to stay still and calm. I’m not sure what to do around him. It’s hard to believe that yesterday I laughed at his vulgarity, rolled my eyes at his attitude, and then rode home with him. I didn’t know him at all. I thought I did, but the person in front of me is a stranger.
He lifts my hand and puts the cup in it. “Drink so I know I can try to trust you. Prove I don’t have to force you to do this.”
I’m shaking as I lift the cup and drink.
“Swallow it, Grace,” he orders.
I’m crying again, but I do as he demands. I don’t like how he keeps saying my name. Reid used to call me “Yeung”; he isn’t doing that now. The person in front of me is calling me Grace.
“Good girl. In a few minutes, you’ll be tired too. We can nap. You should probably go use the bathroom first. Here. This is more comfortable.” He hands me a T-shirt and points to the privacy screen where he said there were buckets. “Go on.”
He watches me walk to the screen. The chain jangles and drags behind me. The sound and feel of it bring hot tears to my eyes. I hope he’s not lying about wanting to sleep. I don’t know what he gave me, but despite the myriad things that are horribly wrong, I am clinging to the hope that all that’s about to happen is drugged sleep.
I change into his shirt like he orders me to, but keep on my bra and yoga pants.
When I return to the daybed, Reid is already there with his shoes kicked off. He doesn’t comment on my clothes, and I’m relieved by that. I couldn’t leave my legs bare, even though the shirt hangs past my hips. I know the thick layer of cotton won’t protect me, but it eases my mind a tiny bit.
Reid pats the bed beside him. “I’ll hold you until you fall asleep.”
“I’m not tired.”
“You will be.” He pats the bed again, and I sit. Reid continues, “Then I can sleep too. I do want to trust you, but we’re not there yet and I don’t want you to try to hurt me in my sleep. We won’t always need the medicine.”
“I thought you only wanted me so Eva would come.” I try not to whimper as he wraps an arm around me and pulls me to him. He lies back on the bed, pulling me down so my head is on his shoulder, and wrapping an arm securely around me. It feels worse somehow that he’s holding me like I’m his girlfriend.
He straightens the chain so it’s behind me. “That was the plan, but everything happens for a reason. I don’t always see the Lord’s plans until I’m in them. It’s hard to explain. We don’t have to decide today.”
I feel the drugs start to take hold of me, and I whisper a prayer in my mind, “P
lease don’t do anything while I’m unconscious.”
Obviously, I must have said it aloud not in my head, though, because he answers, “I wouldn’t do that. I’m not a monster, Grace.”
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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DAY 15: “THE GUN”
Eva
DETECTIVE GRANT ARRIVES QUICKLY. My mother had me forward that horrible picture to her before she even arrived.
“My husband’s on his way home, but do you mind if I set the house alarm?” my mother asks.
“That’s fine, Mrs. Tilling,” Detective Grant says.
After my mother walks away, the detective sits in the chair across from me, and then she looks at me and turns on her recorder. “We’re going to go through what happened step by step.”
She says her name, the date, the time, where we are, and a case number. Then she says, “I need you to state your name, and then tell me about Reid Benson’s arrival here today.”
I summarize it as best I can, telling her that Reid was wet and muddy when he arrived, and that he seemed off and what he said as best I remember. I finish with “. . . and there was that picture. I can’t believe this. I’ve known Reid my whole life. We’re friends. He’s friends with all of us.”
“Including Amy Crowne?”
I nod.
“Michelle Adams?” the detective prompts.
“He knew Micki, but we all know the same people. Jamie, Grayson, Robert, Piper. We’ve all known each other our whole lives.”
Nate comes to stand beside me, and I reach out and take his hand.
Detective Grant glances at Nate and then at my mother. “What was Mr. Reid’s relationship with Madison Tremont?”
The tone in her voice lets me know more than I want. The detective sounds like she did when she asked about Amy; her voice has gone calm and emotionless.
“Madison was the one in the picture he sent,” I say, hoping I’m wrong.
Detective Grant doesn’t deny it.
