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I stared at the two of them. “What thing?”
I expected them to ignore my question, but Mr. Barron looked right at me and smiled again. “I suppose we might as well show you,” he said. He reached into his bag and pulled out a cord attached to a small black device. “This is a portable charger. It’s specifically designed for ankle bracelets.”
“So… you’re turning my ankle monitor back on?” I shook my head slowly, brows wrinkling with confusion. “Are you trying to get caught?”
“No,” Mr. Blythe said. “We’ve just had a slight change of plans.”
“Why?”
“Well, we were discussing things last night, and we realized we have a bit of a problem,” he replied. “See, we want this case to be wrapped up as quickly as possible in a neat little bow. But that won’t happen if your ankle bracelet is out of commission forever.”
I frowned. “Why not?”
“Because we need the police to find it at Carrington Park to advance the theory that you went to Cerina’s memorial service, felt guilty, and did a runner.” He tilted his head slightly to one side. “Thing is, though… with the battery dead, it’s completely untraceable. So we can drop it in the park as planned, but we can’t guarantee that it’ll be found straight away. It could take days. Weeks, even. Or some kid could pick it up thinking it’s a toy and then toss it in the trash when it doesn’t do anything for them.”
Understanding finally dawned on my tired brain. “You need to turn it back on so the police can track it down as quickly as possible.”
“Yes. But that presents us with another issue—we can’t cut it off you andthenturn it back on. It doesn’t work like that, because it breaks and stops sending signals as soon as it’s cut. So we have to turn it back on and cut it off you, in that order.”
“But you can’t do that here.”
“No, we can’t, because then the police would have this address as your last known location.”
“What are you going to do, then?” I asked, heart thudding.
“We’re taking you with us to Carrington Park. Partway through the memorial service, we’ll turn the ankle monitor back on. Then we’ll cut it off and toss it in the bushes near the parking lot. The police will get a notification telling them that you’re trackable again, but by the time they get to the right spot, we’ll be long gone. They’ll find the bracelet and assume you were at the service, watching from behind the shrubs.”
“We’ll also drop that water bottle next to the ankle bracelet,” Mr. Barron interjected, jerking a thumb toward the bottle I’d just finished. “That way your DNA will be found at the scene. It’ll solidify the theory that you were there watching the memorial.”
“Isn’t that a bit risky?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. “There’ll be hundreds of people at Carrington Park today. Any one of them could see me with you.”
“You’ll be gagged and tied up in the back of the car, obviously,” Mr. Blythe replied. “The windows are double-tinted, too, so no one will be able to see in.”
“Okay, but how will you explain the ankle monitor suddenly switching on again?” I asked. “That doesn’t make any sense. The police will realize something weird is going on.”
“They’ll find some way to rationalize it,” Mr. Barron said with a casual shrug. “My best guess is, they’ll think you inadvertently did something to jiggle the battery around. That movement managed to squeeze a tiny bit of extra life out of it, and the device switched back on. You noticed the blinking light, realized you were being tracked again, and frantically cut the bracelet off. Then you ran.”
“Right.” My stomach growled again. “Can I at least have some food before we go?”
“No, but if you behave yourself, we’ll make sure you get a sandwich or two after we get back,” Mr. Blythe said, lips stretching into a cruel smile. “Deal?”
“Deal,” I muttered. It was hopeless to argue or fight. One girl against two men never ended well. Not for the girl, anyway.
“Hold out your wrists.”
I did as I was told, stomach churning. Mr. Blythe tied my hands together in front of me with a thick strip of black silk while Mr. Barron stuffed a gag in my mouth and fastened it at the back of my head.
“All right.” Mr. Blythe lay a hand on my shoulder and pushed me forward. “Let’s go.”
The two men directed me out of the dungeon and up the narrow spiral staircase beyond it. When we reached the top, one of them opened the thick wooden door in front of us and roughly pushed me through. I ducked my head and blinked rapidly, eyes painfully adjusting to the sudden burst of light.
When my vision finally cleared, I looked around. I was in a vast foyer of marble and gold with an enormous chandelier in the center. A huge staircase wound up to the right, leading to a mezzanine level with a balcony overlooking the rest of the space.
Glancing to the left, I spotted a sideboard featuring a multitude of framed photos. I squinted at them. The closest one displayed two familiar faces—Ted and Nora Vincent. The one beside it featured the two of them with their three kids… including Cerina.
The revelation hit me like a punch to the gut. I was in Cerina’s house. The familiar voice I heard the other night belonged to her mother, Nora. I recognized it from the PTO meeting that Jax live-streamed to me from his phone a few nights ago.
I inhaled sharply through my nose, mind whirling as it tried to parse the shocking new information. I felt the same sickening slide into uncertainty that I experienced when I found Cerina’s body lying in front of me in the gazebo—the sensation that some greater force had taken over every aspect of my life, sending it spiraling out of control.
