The Woman in the Wrong Place (Grassi Framily)

There were many flaws in the system and in the laws that it protected.

But I did think that murderers should be behind bars for what they did.

Yes, even stupidly handsome Matteo Grassi.

I wasn’t going to bite my tongue about what I’d seen just because he asked me to. And he was kind of an idiot if he thought I would. But maybe that would work in my favor, right?

If he was just stupid and expected me to pinky promise I wasn’t going to say anything, then maybe I could get out of the basement and to the police who could protect me.

I could play dumb.

A lot of people assumed I was dumb before getting to know me anyway. I don’t know if it had to do with my age or my career choice or that I was bubbly and friendly. But whatever it was about me, people constantly underestimated me.

It might have been annoying, but it could also work in my favor in a lot of ways as well. I mean, I once made it on a road trip all the way from Jersey to West Virginia without once having to pump my own gas by simply grabbing the gas nozzle thingy and freezing. Lo and behold, someone was quick to rush over and help the poor, clueless girl who actually just didn’t want to have to do the task herself. It worked for putting air in my tires and changing out my windshield wipers as well.

It had worked for me in the past.

It could work for me again.

Like getting some mob guy to trust me.

I listened to him upstairs as he seemed to move something big and heavy from one side of the house to, eventually, push up against the basement door, effectively locking me in. I mean, I didn’t like to think of myself as small or helpless. I was just being realistic. If someone much bigger and stronger than me struggled to move the damn thing, I sure as heck wasn’t going to be able to do it.

After he finished moving whatever it was, I could hear the sounds of his feet across the house, the garage door groaning up and down again, then nothing.

I was alone.

This was where I could go ahead and panic.

But that wasn’t going to do me any good.

I needed to focus.

I needed to figure out if there was anything around to cut the duct tape away from my wrists that were bound behind my back. And then maybe look for weapons.

To be perfectly candid, I wasn’t sure I could use them.

I mean, I was someone who couldn’t even kill a spider.

I couldn’t fathom plunging a makeshift knife into someone’s body.

But that said, I imagine we are all capable of really uncharacteristic things when our backs are up against a wall.

Decision made, I started to walk around the half-illuminated space. I couldn’t help but wonder how the heck one managed to have an entire basement without anything in it. No old moving boxes you forgot to unpack or a collection of Christmas presents you hated but were too kind to tell anyone you didn’t want. Heck, even just a pile of laundry next to the washer that you hadn’t gotten to yet.

Who had nothing at all in their basement?

Psychopaths who kidnap women, that’s who. He probably knew that anything could and would be used against him if given the chance.

After a lot of searching in the dark side of the room near the utility stuff, I did eventually find one random piece of metal that must not have been attached right because it was sticking out and just sharp enough to use as a somewhat blunt knife.

I was sweating down the back of my neck by the time I finally felt the duct tape give a little. But I wasn’t sure any moment had felt quite as good as feeling my wrists yank free of that confine.

There wasn’t even a second of hesitation before I reached upward and yanked the duct tape off my face.

“Shit shit shit shit, double shit,” I hissed, realizing that all those people in movies who made a fuss about their tape getting pulled off their mouths were actually downplaying how much it stung. “Okay. Get it together,” I said, tossing the tape and trying to shake some life back into my arms.

I moved back toward the lighted side of the basement, again seeing nothing but the washer, dryer, and utility sink, as well as the small room to the side of them.

Curious, I made my way in that direction. After a little feeling around, I found the switch that lit up a very, well, primitive bathroom. Meaning it had a toilet that seemed to be operational, but nothing else.

I shouldn’t have felt a rush of relief. But at the end of the day, no one wanted to be left in a space for an unspecified amount of time without access to a bathroom.