suspended from the high ceiling, at least twelve feet up. A wooden door—the only exit—sat in the middle of the opposite wall; the lack of visible hinges indicated that it opened outward.
In movies, Marnie reflected sourly, doors always opened inward, so that imprisoned people could hide behind them and attack whoever took a few steps into the room. Of course, in movies imprisoned people didn’t lie as if paralyzed, afraid to cause more pain by moving, longing for ginger ale.Lack of a toilet never seemed to trouble them. They jumped briskly up despite any number of injuries and conceived clever plans.
Marnie was not capable of a clever plan at this moment, but cautiously, as if this too would hurt, she began trying to think.
Initially, after Skye died, Max had been very concerned about possible kidnappers. He’d conducted careful interviews about security at the first school Marnie attended, gotten references from the rich parents of current and previous students, and even consulted with Skye’s old bodyguard firm. Security was vital, he had said.
But over time, the danger of kidnappers had somehow slipped down on the list of things to consider—if not entirely out of the picture. Marnie herself had not given it a thought in years. There’d been no reason; nothing to trigger any alarm.
Ms. Slaight. Who’d have guessed it? Did she have coconspirators? Was this truly a kidnapping, or just some comedy of errors? Maybe Ms. Slaight had lost her mind temporarily. Given the whole sequence of events, this seemed most likely to Marnie. Everyone at the Halsett Grille had seen them together.
Nothing about this felt like the professional kidnapping operations that had been described to her so thoroughly. She wasn’t in handcuffs or blindfolded or even tied up.
Marnie was suddenly possessed by the desire to laugh hysterically. Simultaneously, her stomach contracted again, and she rolled instinctively into a ball, even though her head hurt more from the movement, as she’d known it would. She panted alittle, and after a minute or two the pain retreated again to an intense background throb. Then, slowly, she became aware of feeling cold.
She unlocked her knees and tilted her chin down to look in the direction of her feet. There was a folded blanket at the end of the cot. She snagged it with one foot and dragged it upward. She huddled beneath it and began to feel warmer. That was another mistake she’d made, getting into this dress instead of staying in her jeans and wool sweater. Not that she was counting mistakes.
She wondered what was happening back at Halsett Academy. Had she been missed? It wasn’t like anybody would care that she wasn’t there. Jenna Lowry, for one, would rejoice.
To think Marnie had actually believed she had a problem when she couldn’t find a computer to e-mail the Elf. What an idiot she was.
She retched again over the side of the cot, though this time nothing actually came out. Looking distastefully away from the area, she spotted something out of the corner of her eye, on the floor near the head of the cot. Was it a bottle? A plastic bottle?
By dint of heroic effort, Marnie reached out and grabbed her prize. Not ginger ale, but President’s Choice lemon-lime seltzer. It was ridiculous how weak she was; the bottle felt as if it weighed twenty pounds. Somehow she heaved it up onto the cot with her. For a minute, it was enough just to hold it. Then she began to think about having a drink.
The best way to do that would be to sit upright. Marnie’s throbbing head told her she had exerted herself all she could right now. But her mouth andthroat were desperate. She managed to prop herself up against the wall. There was one awful moment when her fingers couldn’t grip the twist-top sufficiently well to break the seal and open the bottle. Somehow she succeeded. She drank quite a lot, then firmly re-capped the bottle. But then she was attacked by a wave of dizziness. She dropped the bottle and
In movies, Marnie reflected sourly, doors always opened inward, so that imprisoned people could hide behind them and attack whoever took a few steps into the room. Of course, in movies imprisoned people didn’t lie as if paralyzed, afraid to cause more pain by moving, longing for ginger ale.Lack of a toilet never seemed to trouble them. They jumped briskly up despite any number of injuries and conceived clever plans.
Marnie was not capable of a clever plan at this moment, but cautiously, as if this too would hurt, she began trying to think.
Initially, after Skye died, Max had been very concerned about possible kidnappers. He’d conducted careful interviews about security at the first school Marnie attended, gotten references from the rich parents of current and previous students, and even consulted with Skye’s old bodyguard firm. Security was vital, he had said.
But over time, the danger of kidnappers had somehow slipped down on the list of things to consider—if not entirely out of the picture. Marnie herself had not given it a thought in years. There’d been no reason; nothing to trigger any alarm.
Ms. Slaight. Who’d have guessed it? Did she have coconspirators? Was this truly a kidnapping, or just some comedy of errors? Maybe Ms. Slaight had lost her mind temporarily. Given the whole sequence of events, this seemed most likely to Marnie. Everyone at the Halsett Grille had seen them together.
Nothing about this felt like the professional kidnapping operations that had been described to her so thoroughly. She wasn’t in handcuffs or blindfolded or even tied up.
Marnie was suddenly possessed by the desire to laugh hysterically. Simultaneously, her stomach contracted again, and she rolled instinctively into a ball, even though her head hurt more from the movement, as she’d known it would. She panted alittle, and after a minute or two the pain retreated again to an intense background throb. Then, slowly, she became aware of feeling cold.
She unlocked her knees and tilted her chin down to look in the direction of her feet. There was a folded blanket at the end of the cot. She snagged it with one foot and dragged it upward. She huddled beneath it and began to feel warmer. That was another mistake she’d made, getting into this dress instead of staying in her jeans and wool sweater. Not that she was counting mistakes.
She wondered what was happening back at Halsett Academy. Had she been missed? It wasn’t like anybody would care that she wasn’t there. Jenna Lowry, for one, would rejoice.
To think Marnie had actually believed she had a problem when she couldn’t find a computer to e-mail the Elf. What an idiot she was.
She retched again over the side of the cot, though this time nothing actually came out. Looking distastefully away from the area, she spotted something out of the corner of her eye, on the floor near the head of the cot. Was it a bottle? A plastic bottle?
By dint of heroic effort, Marnie reached out and grabbed her prize. Not ginger ale, but President’s Choice lemon-lime seltzer. It was ridiculous how weak she was; the bottle felt as if it weighed twenty pounds. Somehow she heaved it up onto the cot with her. For a minute, it was enough just to hold it. Then she began to think about having a drink.
The best way to do that would be to sit upright. Marnie’s throbbing head told her she had exerted herself all she could right now. But her mouth andthroat were desperate. She managed to prop herself up against the wall. There was one awful moment when her fingers couldn’t grip the twist-top sufficiently well to break the seal and open the bottle. Somehow she succeeded. She drank quite a lot, then firmly re-capped the bottle. But then she was attacked by a wave of dizziness. She dropped the bottle and
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