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I expected to see Mr. Blythe open the door, but it was a tall, dark-haired woman instead. Cerina’s mother, Nora Vincent.
“Hello, Kinsey,” she said, watching me from the threshold with slightly narrowed eyes. “We haven’t officially met, but I’m Nora.”
“I know who you are,” I muttered.
She patted the tote bag swinging from her left arm. “I heard you were hungry, so I picked up some food for you,” she said. “Are you interested?”
I nodded vehemently. My mouth was already watering.
Nora reached into the tote and pulled out a wrapped sandwich packed with ham, cheese, and salad. She handed it to me and watched as I wolfed it down, leaving no crumbs.
“I brought you something else too,” she said, nose wrinkling as she stared down at me. “You must be feeling quite dirty after spending so much time in here. Am I right?”
I swallowed my last bite of the sandwich and nodded.
Nora reached into the tote and pulled out a packet of scented wet wipes. “You can wash yourself with these,” she said. “I’ll turn around to give you some privacy.”
“Thank you,” I muttered, tentatively accepting the packet.
When Nora turned to face the door, I took off my jacket and peeled my sweater over my head before tossing them on the cot. I pulled out a wipe and ran it all over my face and upper body, lingering on my underarms the longest. Then I removed my jeans and repeated the process, focusing on my nether regions.
It wasn’t the same as a proper bath or shower, but it was still a relief to feel somewhat fresh again. I hadn’t showered since Thursday morning, so I was well aware of how ripe I’d begun to smell.
“Should I put my old clothes back on?” I asked.
Nora nodded. “Yes. I thought about bringing you fresh clothes from Cerina’s room, because you’re about the same size, but I realized that could backfire quite badly on me,” she replied. “When the police find your body and get your mother to identify it, she might notice that the clothes aren’t yours, and then a whole new can of worms would be opened.”
“Right,” I murmured, lowering my gaze to the grimy floor.
She snapped her fingers. “Hurry up, please. I don’t have all afternoon to spend in here,” she said. “I have to get ready for a dinner party.”
I picked up my clothes and slipped back into them, heart hammering painfully in my chest. “I’m done,” I said.
Nora turned around and gave me a onceover. “That’s better,” she said. “Your face looks a lot less greasy now.”
“Um… thanks,” I replied, though I didn’t feel grateful at all. I just didn’t know what else to say.
Nora crossed the small room and sat on the end of the cot. She patted it and raised her brows, silently gesturing for me to join her.
I quietly padded over and sat down, clasping my hands in my lap. Nora pursed her lips and stared at me. The calculating look in her eyes sent chills up my arms. “Has Matthew told you the plan yet?” she asked.
“Who’s Matthew?”
A small smile stretched her lips. “Sorry, I should’ve said Mr. Blythe. Your English teacher.”
“Oh.” My stomach lurched. “Are you talking about the plan to kill me?”
“Yes.”
“He told me it was happening,” I said. “But he didn’t tell me how or why. Or when.”
“I see.” Nora’s forehead creased. “Would you like to know?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll do it on Monday or Tuesday, depending on how things pan out,” she said. “Right now, the police are all over the place searching for you. But a couple of days from now, they’ll start to think you’ve left town, and the search will expand from Crown Point to other areas. There’ll be less police presence around here then.”
“So you’ll find it easier to dispose of me without anyone noticing anything,” I said softly, twisting my hands in my lap.
