My eyes dart up to Cecelia’s cabin. She’s still inside packing and probably gabbing with her new friends. I look around at the other parents arriving for pick-up. I scurry off to the side, lowering my voice further. “What do you mean?”
“I was worried about her. So I put a red mark on the tire of her car. It’s been three days and the mark is still in the exact same spot. She hasn’t gone anywhere in three days.”
I let out a huff. “Look, Enzo. That could mean anything. Maybe the two of them went on a trip together.”
“No. I’ve seen his car move.”
I roll my eyes. “So maybe they’re carpooling. Maybe she just doesn’t feel like driving anywhere.”
“The light is on in the attic.”
“The…” I clear my throat, taking another step away from the other parents. “How do you know that?”
“I went in the backyard.”
“After Andy fired you?”
“I had to check, okay? There is somebody up there.”
I squeeze the phone so tightly my fingers start to tingle. “So what? The attic was her bedroom. Is it really such a big deal that she’s up there?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
A dizzy sensation comes over me. When I planned this whole thing out, back when I wanted Millie to be my replacement and then later when I wanted her to kill that bastard, I never really thought it out. I left her the pepper spray and I gave her the key to the room, and I thought she would be fine. But now I realize I may have made a huge mistake. I think of her trapped in the room in the attic, having to endure whatever torture Andy has come up with. The thought of it makes me sick.
“What about you?” I say. “Can’t you go in and check on her?”
“I rang the bell. No answer.”
“What about the key under the flowerpot?”
“It wasn’t there.”
“What about—”
“Nina,” Enzo growls, “are you saying you want me to break into that house? Do you know what would happen to me if I got caught? You have a key. You have every right to go in there. I’ll go with you, but I can’t go alone.”
“But—”
“This is all just excuses!” he bursts out. “I can’t believe you would let her suffer the way you suffered.”
I take one last look up at Cecelia’s cabin. She’s just coming out now, lugging her bags behind her.
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll come back. But only on one condition.”
FIFTY-SEVEN
MILLIE
When I wake up in the guest bedroom the next morning, the first thing I do is reach for Andrew’s phone.
I bring up the app for the camera in the attic. Right away, the room jumps into focus. I stare at the screen and my blood turns cold. The room is deathly still. Andrew isn’t in there anymore.
He’s gotten out of the room.
I clutch the blankets in my left hand. My eyes dart around the bedroom, searching for him, maybe lurking in the shadows. There’s a sudden movement at the window, and I almost have a heart attack before I realize it’s a bird.
Where is he? And how did he get out? Is there some sort of failsafe button that I didn’t know about? A way for him to escape if he ever found himself in this situation? But it’s hard to imagine. He kept those books on his groin for hours on end. Why would he have done that if he had been able to get out all along?
Either way, if he’s gotten out of the room, he’s got to be pissed.
I’ve got to get out of this house. Now.
My eyes drop down to the phone. And then something moves on the screen. I let out a slow breath. Andrew is in the room after all. He’s under the covers on the cot. I just didn’t see him because he was so still.
I use the function to rewind the video of the room. I watch Andrew lying on the floor of the room, grimacing at the weight on top of him. Five hours. He did it for five hours. So if I am to hold up my end of the bargain, I have to let him out now.
I take my time getting ready. I take a long, hot shower. The tension in my neck melts away as the warm water runs over my body. I know what I have to do next. And I’m ready.
I put on a comfortable T-shirt and a pair of jeans. I gather my dirty-blond hair back into a ponytail and slide Andrew’s phone into my pocket. Then I pick up something that I grabbed from the garage yesterday and hide it in my other pocket.
I climb up the creaky steps to the attic. I’ve climbed up here enough times that I’ve noticed not every step creaks. Only certain ones. The second step is very loud, for example. And the top step.