Big Bad Academy

“Kill the lights,” I say to Gaston. “Someone will see.”

“We’re surrounded by forest,” he points out. “And this is at the end of a private drive. The nearest neighbor is half a mile away. No one’s going to see.”

He’s right, but I kind of hate that he’s right.

Why does Heather live all the way out here by herself?

Doesn’t she get lonely?

“She just lives here with her cats?”

It seems almost...sad.

But these cats don’t look neglected or evil. They look very well taken care of, and as I look around the little living room, I can see pictures of cats on the walls. There are paintings and drawings. I wonder if Heather made these pictures herself. There’s a big sofa in the center of the room, and once the cats realize that Gaston and I aren’t going anywhere, they scurry up to the sofa and jump up on it. They turn around a few times before sitting down.

Neither one of them goes to sleep.

They don’t close their eyes and they don’t turn their backs. They’re still wildly suspicious of us, but they wait patiently.

“Let’s search the house,” I say, warily eyeing the cats. “I don’t want to be here a minute longer than we have to.

“Understood,” he says.

“I’ll take the second floor.”

“I’ll start down here.”

I move toward the little staircase and head upstairs.

Let’s see what Heather Smith is hiding in her bedroom.

Chapter Three

Heather

The sound of the door slamming wakes me up.

I’m groggy, and my entire body hurts, and everything is dark. I’m lying flat on a hard surface. Where the hell am I?

And then it hits me.

Everything comes rushing back in one swift, horrible wave of emotions and memories.

He took me.

The man from the book signing took me.

My hands are bound, but they’re in front of me, and my ankles are free. Crap. He tied me up and shoved me somewhere. I roll around. I’m in...a trunk, maybe? Yes, definitely. Fuck. I feel like I can’t breathe. Suddenly, the world around me starts to feel like it’s closing in. Is the trunk getting smaller?

It’s definitely got to be getting smaller, right?

“Think,” I mutter to myself. I know he drugged me somehow. I feel a little groggy still, but I’m otherwise okay. I don’t think he hit me on the head or anything serious, and my legs are free, so he didn’t bother taking the time to tie them up. Apparently, he didn’t think I’d try to get out of the car.

He was wrong.

We’re stopped. The sound of the car door slamming is what woke me up, so I have to act quickly. I can tell that there’s no way for me to get the actual trunk open, but what about the backseat? Can I break into the backseat?

Some cars have an emergency level that let you easily access the backseat. The way my hands are bound, I could probably grip one. The problem is that it’s just so dark, and I don’t have a lot of time for messing around. Still, I try, but I can’t seem to reach or find any suck lever.