Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 128488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
“The jury thought otherwise.”
She stared at him for a minute, and he sensed something churning in her. But whatever it was, she held it back, obviously deciding that it didn’t matter or this was not the time. “Listen,” she said, “if we have any hope of getting out of here, we’ll need to work together. Anything else is pointless.”
He gave a nod, acknowledging that that was probably easier for him. She clearly held deep animosity toward his family, whereas he’d mostly been curious about her. To be perfectly honest, the thing that had decimated her life had been more of a tragic blip on the radar for him, an extremely unfortunate accident that his father had had to manage. He hadn’t even been at home that summer. He’d been staying with his mother in the Hamptons. And in any case, from his perspective, before the . . . tragedy, both her mother and his father had been at fault. Perhaps Noelle was right about privilege. He’d moved on, while she had not. Her mother died, though. “You’re right. We need to work together.”
Unfortunately, at that particular moment, there was no “work” to be done. No tools within their grasp. No person to appeal to. For the time being, all they could do was wait. For what, he had no idea.
CHAPTER FOUR
She was running along a path, following it as it twisted and turned, someone hot and heavy on her heels. Vegetation surrounded her. Not a forest, but a garden, full of bushes trimmed into monstrous shapes. She had the vague notion that they were watching her, whispering her whereabouts to whoever was chasing. She’d never get away. Not here, where there were eyes everywhere. Suddenly, something hot tore into her chest, agonizing pain ripping through her, and she was falling, falling—
“Noelle!”
She sat up with a jolt, a scream on her lips, looking around wildly as she attempted to get her bearings. Bars surrounded her. She lay back down, letting her head hit the cement floor. Oh God. This is real. I’m still here.
The horror that swept through her each time she woke would never diminish. How could it? Tears threatened. For a moment she considered praying to die. She’d had the thought several times since she’d first woken in darkness but stopped herself each time.
“Food delivery,” Evan said from beside her.
She sat up again, smoothing her hair back. She’d been dreaming of her mother. Of the night she died. She’d been her mother, a bullet tearing through her flesh. She pulled herself to her knees, looking at the tray sitting inside the small compartment on the wall behind her cage. The sound of the door opening had been what woke her from her dream. A quick glance told her Evan had a compartment just within his reach as well.
She crawled toward hers. This was the first time she’d been able to see her food, and unlike all the other times, when she’d reached for the bread and water, this “meal” came served on a tray made of soft plastic. A yellow children’s tray. She reached, grasping it with her fingertips, and then carefully pulled it forward, her hands confirming what her eyes had already told her. It had rounded corners, nothing that might be filed into a weapon, even if she broke it into pieces.
There was a slice of plain white bread, a paper cup half-filled with water in the corner, and sliced peaches in the portion of the tray that curved into a small bowl. Her eyes widened, and she put her other hand through the bars, dipping her finger into the pale-yellow peach juice and licking it off. She moaned, picking up one of the four pieces of soft, syrupy fruit and bringing it to her mouth. The sweet taste burst on her tongue, and she took a moment to savor it. It was the first thing she’d been served that contained any real flavor in what felt like years. She reached for another one, eyeing the white fabric napkin on the side of the tray. Her first peripheral glance had made her think it was unfolded and just sort of crumpled in a messy pile. But upon closer inspection, it appeared to be sloppily wrapped around something.
“What’d you get?” Evan asked.
She glanced over at Evan, who was holding his own piece of white bread. He brought it to his mouth, practically inhaling the whole thing in one bite. “Peaches,” she murmured.
He stopped chewing. “I didn’t get any peaches.”
“And I think there’s something under my napkin.”
“Napkin?”
He crawled toward where she was in the back of her cage and placed his head between two bars to get a closer look. And now that he mentioned it, she’d never gotten a napkin before. Why would a jailer, keeping her in a cage and feeding her bread and water, add the nicety of a napkin? She eyed it for a moment, almost expecting it to move. It didn’t, but still, fear filled her, and she reached out tentatively while holding her body as far away as possible.